Five

Malfoy Manor

Severus knelt at the feet of the Dark Lord, awaiting his command.

They were alone in the garden, save for an albino peacock parading itself along a hedgerow. Severus focused on the neatly manicured lawn of Malfoy Manor and listened to the sound of late evening birdsong, allowing it to pervade his senses and block out his thoughts.

His disciplined mind shut down the hatred he felt towards his Master, and he ignored the creeping nausea spreading through his gut. He wore a face of calm servitude. The only way to survive.

"Arise, my faithful servant," the Dark Lord hissed softly. "You have done well."

Severus let out a breath as he stood slowly, hoping this meant he could forgo punishment for not providing the location of the Order of the Phoenix Headquarters.

"It's a pity about the Tongue-Tying Curse, but I doubt the Order will use the old Headquarters again. Knowing that you can still gain access will deter them, I suspect."

The Dark Lord's reasoning was sound, and Severus found himself breathing easier as a result.

"Who is your new contact?" the Dark Lord asked.

Severus knew this question was coming and what would follow. He brought forth an appropriate memory and opened his mind to the Dark Lord.

"The woman is known as Contessa Marchbanks, my Lord. A member of the Order of the Phoenix," said Severus smoothly. "I have placed her under the Imperius Curse."

The Dark Lord looked at Severus appraisingly, before focusing his stare on the Death Eater's cold black eyes.

Severus called forth his memory of Contessa, her wand raised in defence, confusion spreading across her face. Her question: "Trust? What do you mean?" Then her expression softening as she stepped backwards, lowering her wand.

The Dark Lord seemed satisfied.

"Ah, yes," he said, impressed. "A direct descendant of Griselda Marchbanks?"

"That is correct, my Lord."

"That old witch was my Dark Arts examiner at Hogwarts," the Dark Lord said repressively.

"As she was mine," Severus replied.

"No doubt her great-granddaughter has inherited her prodigious skill?"

"Indeed, my Lord, she was an exceptional student," Severus said calmly.

"But of course, you would have taught her yourself at Hogwarts."

There was a pause in the conversation as the Dark Lord assessed the implications. He beckoned Severus to fall into step at his side.

Severus remembered his first year as Potions master at Hogwarts. He had spent most of the year in a haze of pain, grief and self-loathing. Memories were sparse.

His students had suffered his scathing outbursts and endured humiliating punishments. It was a pattern he had repeated throughout his career. Severus knew he had used it as a way to vent his anger, and he made no apology for it; some students had flourished under his tuition.

Marchbanks was one of them. He had inherited her from Horace Slughorn in her final NEWT year. She was bright and intelligent, but had been distracted by the Slug Club. Marchbanks had achieved a mediocre 'E' in her Potions OWL and had been allowed onto NEWT level on Slughorn's less discriminating criteria for entrance.

Severus mused that she had 'exceeded expectations' but that, in his opinion, those expectations had been set too low. She was capable of much more, as proven by her successes under his tutelage.

Of course, the girl did not understand or appreciate this, and Severus doubted she ever would.

Severus watched the sun sinking low on the horizon, casting its warm red glow on the surroundings. The peacock glided from the hedge onto the lawn and strutted with a supreme arrogance, befitting of its owners. Although, perhaps, less so now.

The last time Severus had seen Narcissa, she had looked pale and wan with dark circles around her eyes. She had thanked him for keeping his vow to protect her son. The Malfoy family would continue to pay heavily for Lucius's failure in the Department of Mysteries, that much was certain.

When the Dark Lord turned to face him, Severus recoiled slightly, admonishing himself for letting his mind wander in the presence of this dangerous and skilled Legilimens. It was most unusual for this to occur, and not at all like him. Severus would not allow himself to let it happen again; he would have to be more careful. Survival was crucial.

"I'm sure I'm right in recalling the Marchbanks woman was engaged to be married to another Order member," the Dark Lord began. "I do not remember his name."

"Nor do I, my Lord," said Severus, keeping the curiosity out of his voice.

"Yes, well, Dumbledore will have ensured his Order contained well-placed people who did not necessarily know of one another." The Dark Lord's forgiveness of Severus's lack of knowledge was unusual in its generosity.

"He certainly didn't keep all his eggs in one basket," Severus replied, knowing the frustrating truth behind his words.

"Indeed," the Dark Lord agreed.

They walked towards a large ornamental pond containing several elegant freshwater fish with fancy fins and long tails. Looking down into the surface of the water, Severus could see the red glow of the Dark Lord's eyes reflecting back at him.

"Ah, yes," the Dark Lord remembered out loud. "It was Dolohov."

"Dolohov, my Lord?" Snape enquired.

"Dolohov. He captured Marchbanks' fiancé in the spring of last year and tortured him for information on the Order. He resisted well. Dolohov killed him in a fit of frustration." The Dark Lord shook his head in displeasure. "A shame; he would have been a useful hostage. Much could have been learned, but still, no matter. We are in a much stronger position now." The Dark Lord inclined his head towards Severus.

The veiled compliment bounced off Severus's rigid composure. He would process this news later, when it was safe to do so.

"What news of the Order?" asked the Dark Lord.

Severus recalled the memory of Contessa placing the newspaper on the table, before meeting the Dark Lord's eyes.

"They will meet the day after Dumbledore's funeral to make plans for Potter when he comes of age," Severus replied.

"The protective enchantments will lift when he turns seventeen?" the Dark Lord asked.

"Yes, my Lord," Severus said smoothly. "He shall be leaving Privet Drive by the end of July."

"So, we must turn our minds to the task of capturing Potter before the Order finds new protection for him." The Dark Lord looked away into the distance. "There is much to do. Go now, Severus, you've provided useful information."

"Yes, my Lord." Severus nodded.

"Your lodgings are safe?" the Dark Lord asked as an afterthought. "It would not do to be captured by the Ministry at this stage."

"They are, my Lord," Severus replied. "It would be better if the details remained hidden from the others, however. My work will be more, ah, effective alone and uninterrupted."

"Of course, Severus, you make a good point. Enjoy the Marchbanks woman; she will make for stimulating company, I am sure."

"Thank you, my Lord," he said as he bowed to his Master.

Severus Disapparated in a graceful swirl of black mist, evaporating into the crimson sunset.

---

Thread of Hope

The following day, Contessa arrived home after a long day at the Ludicrous Patents Office. The Ministry of Magic had been a wonderfully cool underground escape from the heat of the summer. Contessa relished the glow of the late evening sun warming her skin as she made her way across the garden.

The rosemary bush was now a twiggy stump in the earth and, by the looks of it, Fawkes had started on her thyme plant. Contessa wondered how long the phoenix would be staying; she realised she was enjoying having the bird around.

The only sign that Severus had returned from his meeting with Voldemort were the drawn curtains in the window. She entered the living room to find the space neat and tidy. Fawkes was dozing with his head under his wing in the cool shade. He clucked softly, welcoming her home. Contessa noticed the phoenix had a couple more bald patches and was starting to resemble a half-plucked turkey.

At the top of the stairs, she knocked on the guest room door.

"Severus?" she asked gently. "Are you there?"

There was a moment's pause and the door opened slowly.

"I am," Severus said softly, squinting in the light of the hallway.

"Good," said Contessa. "I've brought dinner. Have you eaten?"

"Not yet," he answered quietly.

"Fifteen minutes?"

Severus seemed to deliberate before replying.

"Fifteen minutes it is." He nodded curtly and closed the door again.

On her way downstairs, Contessa noticed that Dumbledore's portrait was empty. She wondered if he preferred to make himself scarce at meal times, and she secretly wished he would spend more time at the cottage. It might make the awkward conversation with Severus a little easier to bear if Dumbledore was around.

A quarter of an hour later, Contessa and Severus sat down for dinner without speaking. Contessa found the silence unnerving. How were they to survive the next few weeks together like this? Dumbledore had intimated they were to help each other, but how?

She willed herself to open the conversation and asked, "How did your meeting go with He Who Must Not Be Named?"

Severus met her gaze before answering lazily, "Well enough."

Contessa nodded and realised there was nothing else forthcoming. "What did he want?"

Severus chewed his mouthful of food slowly and looked her in the eye. "A report on my activities."

Contessa returned his stare steadily. "An update?"

"Yes." Severus took another bite of food.

She waited and then asked, "What did you tell him?"

"That I've placed you under the Imperius Curse and you're now acting as an informant."

"The Imperius Curse? I hadn't noticed." She smiled ruefully.

Eyes like wells of black ink seemed to contemplate her, and Contessa wondered if the man in front of her had any trace of a sense of humour. Severus returned his focus to the meal in front of him.

"He Who Must Not Be Named believes me susceptible to the Imperius Curse?" she asked, attempting to hide the indignation in her voice.

Severus didn't look up. "The fact that you are a former student of mine would suggest that I have a certain advantage."

Contessa felt her eyebrows rising in provocation and she was tempted to disagree. "Really?" she asked with a trace of sarcasm.

"I cannot speak for the Dark Lord. However, I presume he believes I have an understanding of your strengths and weaknesses, and know how to manipulate you."

Contessa bit back a retort. "I see," she replied. "Thank you, Severus. I feel much more at ease about having you in my home."

Severus raised his head and made eye contact again. Contessa regretted her sarcasm instantly.

"You have my gratitude, Contessa." The calm sincerity in his voice was unmistakeable.

Contessa realised her eyes had widened, and she winced slightly. An apologetic smile played out on her lips.

"Actually, it makes a nice change to have some company," she answered truthfully.

Silence lingered again for a short while. Contessa watched the pale angular features of her once formidable opponent; she had never noticed the sadness in his face until now.

"My condolences about your fiancé," Severus said quietly.

Contessa felt a flurry of butterflies and a familiar dull ache in her abdomen.

"Thank you," she replied as her eyes dropped to the table. Putting her knife and fork down, she reached out for her wine glass. Taking a sip, she considered her response.

"Alex went missing fifteen months ago. He was on a mission for Dumbledore, seeking help amongst the goblins."

Severus's brow furrowed.

"He worked in the Goblin Liaison Office," she explained.

Severus nodded in understanding.

"I think he underestimated the danger he was in; he went alone and unarmed, so as not to prejudice the talks. Wandless, he couldn't defend himself. The evidence suggests he ran into a Death Eater. A few weeks after his disappearance we were forced to concede that we had lost him." She paused. "It's been so long now... I accept he must be dead." She looked down at the engagement ring on her finger and played with it absentmindedly.

Severus waited for a moment before responding. "You are right," he said gently. "He is dead."

His voice was compassionate, kinder than she had ever heard it. As she looked into his eyes she felt a fleeting connection between them. The contact was lost as she was engulfed in the reality contained in his words.

"You have news? Confirmation?"

"Yes," replied Severus.

"Tell me, please."

"He was murdered by Dolohov," Severus answered. "He proved resistant to the Cruciatus Curse. Dolohov killed him by accident rather than design; the Dark Lord was not pleased," he added, unthinking. "I'm sorry," he finished quietly.

Tears leaked down Contessa's face as she rose abruptly from the table.

"Thank you, Severus."

He nodded once.

"More wine, I think." She left the room.

Alone in the kitchen, the news swept through her like a whirlwind. Propping herself up against the work surface, she took some time to let the information register. Although Alex's death had been declared by the Ministry, a body had never been found. A memorial service had been held and the whole family had grieved, but Contessa must have still been holding on to a thread of hope. She still wore his ring.

Severus had confirmed the worst case scenario. Maybe now, at least, she could start to move on.

She took some time to regain her composure.

When calmness arrived she felt a wave of enormous gratitude towards the bearer of bad news. She doubted Severus would understand how much he had helped her.

Contessa picked up the bottle of wine and walked back into the living room. Severus had almost finished eating. She poured out two more glasses of wine before sitting down again.

Severus was quiet and subdued, but somehow the silence seemed less awkward.

"I'm not working tomorrow," she said after she swallowed her last mouthful. "The Ministry has given me the day off to attend Dumbledore's funeral."

Severus nodded once, his eyes were downcast and his lips pursed.

"It's being held at Hogwarts tomorrow afternoon," she continued.

Severus arose from the table suddenly, picking up his plate and reaching out for hers.

"Oh," said Contessa, "I'm so sorry...I wasn't thinking."

Severus left the room and she heard the clinking of crockery in the kitchen. He was clearing up, in order to avoid talking to her. How could she not have realised?

Contessa approached the kitchen door and spoke to his back. "Perhaps you could accompany me, under a Disillusionment Charm?" she offered uncertainly.

"Hogwarts will have security in place, it would be unwise to enter into the company of Ministry officials," he said, bringing an end to the discussion.

Contessa helped to clean up the kitchen at Severus's side. There must be a way for her to help him grieve. The funeral would be hard for him, undoubtedly, but nevertheless an opportunity for Severus to say goodbye. She searched her brain for a solution to the conundrum.

Lost in her thoughts, she jumped when Severus wished her goodnight and made his way back to his room. Contessa fiddled with her engagement ring as she watched him climb the stairs. A wave of inspiration hit her.

"Severus, wait!" she called, walking towards the bottom of the stairway.

Severus stopped midway up the stairs, looking down at her patiently.

"I have an idea," she offered.

"Go on."

"There is a pair of rings in my family, I think Uncle Hector has them."

"And?"

"They are linked by a Protean Charm. When placed on the finger, Colligomens can be cast," Contessa explained.

Severus showed the first signs of interest. "A complex bit of magic."

"Yes, but I've done it once before; I'm sure I can do it again."

Severus seemed impressed. "It could work, I suppose. Protean Charms are effective within the grounds of Hogwarts."

"I agree." Contessa felt a flush of excitement. "I shall speak to Hector tonight."

Severus inclined his head in acceptance and ascended the stairs, closing the door to the guest room quietly behind him.

Contessa hastened to the fireplace. With a sprinkle of Floo Powder and a flick of her wand, she placed her head into the warm green flames.

Above the fireplace, Dumbledore reappeared in his frame, smiling.

---

Tiger's Eye

On the day of the funeral, Severus arose in the late morning when boredom finally propelled him from the dark guest room. He picked up the torn photograph of Lily from beside his bed and tucked it safely inside the front pocket of his black shirt.

Severus wandered downstairs into the living room, squinting at the daylight streaming through the window. It was another beautiful summer's day. He half drew the curtains to accustom himself to the light.

The house was empty, save for the frail-looking phoenix perched in the corner of the room. Fawkes rasped a greeting at him, looking more old and forlorn than ever. As Severus studied the bird cooped up in the cottage with him, he felt a sense of hopelessness engulf him.

With no appetite for breakfast, Severus slumped on the sofa picking up the new edition of the Daily Prophet. Once again, a photograph of Albus Dumbledore graced the front page.

He leafed through the pages and read a small article confirming that the Ministry still wanted to question him over the 'mysterious' death of the Headmaster. The Potter boy's evidence against him was no doubt being misrepresented by the Daily Prophet, which meant the Dark Lord's influence over the media was increasing.

Severus knew that Potter's hatred of him was likely to be monumental in proportion, and the rest of the Order would respond the same way to his apparent betrayal. Contessa was the only one who believed in him now. Or at least, she was trying to.

He turned to the middle pages and saw a picture of his colleague, Charity Burbage, next to the emblazoned headline 'Muggles Need Your Protection'. Severus shook his head. The woman was making herself a target in these dangerous times. She had obviously felt the need to take up the mantle left behind by Dumbledore, championing Muggle rights. Severus admired her tenacity but was concerned about her tactics. Professor Burbage would be no help to the Muggles if she got herself killed.

Dumbledore's soft cough brought Severus out of his reverie.

Standing up, Severus addressed the portrait with a good morning.

"Tess?" enquired Dumbledore.

"Not here," Severus replied.

"She is still at Hector's, I take it?"

Severus shrugged nonchalantly. "I haven't seen her."

"Avoiding her?" Dumbledore asked shrewdly.

Severus felt irritated by Dumbledore's sharp perception, but had to concede the truth in it. His eyes narrowed and his lips thinned as he stopped himself from responding.

Dumbledore smiled patiently. "She'll be back. Tess is a resourceful witch who can be relied upon. She won't let you down."

As usual, Dumbledore saw right through the façade, getting to the nub of the matter quickly. Severus felt some unease that he had become so transparent.

He replied to Dumbledore's assertion with a stiff nod and went into the kitchen to escape further conversation. Upon realising he was still not hungry, he made himself a mug of black coffee.

Severus felt strangely unsettled as he awaited Contessa's return. He was not accustomed to placing trust in someone; vulnerability was not to be encouraged, he had learned. To depend upon another person meant exposing himself to the risk of ridicule, loss and pain.

The crack of Apparition sounded outside and the Doorbell Charm rang in the tone of a wind chime: Contessa had arrived home.

The front door opened. "Severus?" she called out.

He stepped out of the kitchen, noticing how tense he suddenly felt.

"Good morning," he greeted her. The cold formality in his voice covered up the apprehension he was experiencing.

"I'm glad you're here." Contessa smiled hesitantly. "I've got them." She held out her hand, in which two silver rings glinted in the sunlight. "Hector kept me talking; I'm sorry I'm so late. He was asking a lot of questions."

She obviously felt the need to explain her long absence, and Severus did not want to appear as though he cared. He threw her a supercilious look.

Hiding a cringe, Contessa looked away. "I convinced him they were for a dear friend who was too sick to attend the funeral."

Severus moved forwards to get a better look at the items in her hand. The rings were set with an oval yellow and brown stone, with a lustrous golden sheen. The rings were quite small in size. Contessa held one out for him to examine.

"Tiger's Eye," she said. "The stone, I mean."

"Ah yes, I see," he replied. Severus studied the ring closely and noted several tiny Arithmantic inscriptions on the inside of the band.

"Try it on," said Contessa. "It's for your little finger."

Severus doubted it would fit, but he attempted anyway. Pushing the ring down his finger, he was thwarted at the finger joint.

"Oh!" said Contessa, clearly surprised. "Not to worry, that's easily remedied."

Without looking at him, she took hold of his right hand and raised her wand.

"Engorgio!" Contessa gently tapped the ring with the tip of her wand and the metal expanded instantly. She gently pressed the silver band further down his little finger, until it set with a perfect fit.

Severus became increasingly aware of her soft touch against his skin. The sensation was not unpleasant.

"There," she said, satisfied. Contessa held his hand upwards, examining the fit of the ring with a gentle caress of her fingers. "You have beautiful hands... I have never noticed before."

Meeting his gaze, she flushed slightly, and Severus felt her hand withdraw from his in a swift, embarrassed movement.

Severus was not accustomed to physical contact; his hard demeanour usually afforded him ample personal space. No doubt the icy cold exterior of the former Potions master had caused her sudden change of heart.

Realising that their endeavour would not be successful if she was a gibbering wreck, Severus held the ring up closer to his face and studied it further.

"It is a handsome cut," he remarked.

Contessa seemed to relax a little.

"So, how does this work?" he asked.

"After the Colligomens Charm is cast, our minds will be linked. You only need to clasp your hand, as if holding mine, and shut your eyes," she explained. "You shall see, in your mind's eye, what I am seeing."

"Ingenious."

Contessa slipped the other ring onto her little finger. "Let's give it a try," she said nervously. She held out her hand to him.

Unthinking, Severus placed his hand lightly in hers. Her fingers were trembling a little.

"The rings need to touch," she said, avoiding his eyes.

Severus grasped her hand more tightly and felt a cold tingle as the rings came into contact.

"Alright," said Contessa, more confident now, "we must look into each other's eyes whilst I cast the charm."

Severus complied. He met her gaze and was momentarily taken aback by the brilliance of the greyish-blue eyes looking back at him. Her pupils widened in response. Concentrate, he told himself.

"OK, ready?" she asked.

"Yes," he replied.

With one small movement her wand tapped their clasped hands.

"Colligomens," she whispered.

The rings grew warm in their grasp. Out of the corner of his eye, Severus caught sight of the silver bands shining on their fingers. He did not, however, look away from Contessa. Her steadfast blue gaze had anchored him in place.

Moments passed in silence.

"Did it work?" Severus asked as he pulled himself back, letting go of her hand abruptly.

"I think so," she answered. "We'll have to test it."

Contessa walked out of the room through the front door and disappeared out of sight. Severus let out a breath he hadn't realised he had been holding.

He gave himself a little time before cautiously reaching out to grip an imaginary hand, and was aware of a cool tingle on his little finger. He closed his eyes and was met by a flash of daylight. Mentally, he squinted, before realising that the vision was not his.

Severus watched two squirrels performing daring feats of acrobatics from the roof of the cottage onto a nearby oak tree. Impressive. He let out a small laugh.

He opened his eyes again and hurried out of the cottage, shielding his eyes from the midday sun. Contessa stood, smiling, watching a squirrel descend a tree trunk in pursuit of its mate.

"It worked!" Severus proclaimed, reverence in his voice.

Contessa turned to face him, a grin spreading across her face. He felt the corners of his mouth curl into the beginnings of a smile. The muscles felt like they hadn't been used in a long time.

"Excellent!" Contessa beamed back at him.

Severus was about to respond, but at that moment the Dark Mark burned into his arm. His spirits sank instantly.

Taking out his wand, he changed into the robes of a Death Eater and mentally prepared himself for what was to come.

Contessa's smiling face faltered before him, but this time he noticed that she didn't flinch. Instead, her expression was one of panic.

"No! Not now!" Her voice pleaded with him in desperation.

Severus placed the mask on his face and stored his emotions safely away in a locked box. There was no place for disappointment or sorrow at the feet of the Dark Lord.

Contessa reached out and grabbed his hand, holding him momentarily so that he couldn't Disapparate.

"I must go," he said sharply.

"But you'll miss..."

"I must leave now." Severus cut her off with snarling impatience. "If I stay, the Dark Lord will send his Death Eaters to find me."

Contessa seemed to process this briefly. "I understand," she said dejectedly, her own sadness and regret evident in her features.

Severus felt the pang of her feelings as they were reflected back at him. He attempted to shake them off.

"If you see Charity Burbage, tell her to watch her back," he instructed her sternly.

Contessa nodded and reluctantly let go of his hand. As she did so, the rings came into contact and Severus was flooded with emotions which were not his own. He felt a wave of fear and concern, which must have emanated from the woman before him.

Without knowing if such transference was supposed to happen, Severus Disapparated, leaving Contessa looking shaken and bewildered.

---

Close My Eyes

The Great Lake gleamed like a sapphire in the afternoon sunshine.

The atmosphere was subdued in the grounds of the castle as the guests filed solemnly into their seats. A chorus of beautiful birdsong surrounded the gathering, and the Hogwarts ghosts glimmered overhead.

Contessa was seated next to her great-grandmother and Augusta Longbottom. The two old women were talking quietly, commenting upon the superb weather and glorious scenery which seemed to honour the fallen Headmaster on his burial day.

Down the aisle, Contessa watched the students arriving in dress robes and sitting down sombrely. She had not felt Severus reach out for her hand and was starting to feel a growing sense of restlessness in his absence.

"Eh, Tess?" Griselda nudged her gently.

"Sorry, Gran. I was miles away."

"Over there." Augusta Longbottom pointed towards her grandson, Neville, being helped into his seat by a young witch with long blonde hair and large eyes.

"Oh, yes," said Contessa. "I see him. Was he badly injured?"

"Poppy says he'll make a full recovery within a few days," said Augusta, a large measure of pride in her voice. "He ran headfirst into the barrier cast by the Death Eaters... threw him up in the air, the force of it." She winced as she shook her head. "Brave boy, my Neville," she said as she watched her grandson approvingly.

"Just like his parents," commented Griselda.

Contessa felt glad that Augusta had finally seen some worth in her grandson, after years of being down on the boy. She sensed a shift in Augusta's perception at last.

Suddenly, Contessa felt a hand brush against hers, and the Tiger's Eye ring cooled instantly in her hand; Severus had made it in time for the funeral.

She smiled inwardly as she raised her eyes away from Augusta and Griselda and absorbed the scene around her, wanting Severus to see as much as possible.

Looking towards the marble table by the lake, she saw Cornelius Fudge and Rufus Scrimgeour being seated, whilst the Hogwarts staff arrived to take their seats on the front row.

A chorus of otherworldly music arose from deep inside the lake. Looking over and searching for the merpeople, Contessa's eyes found Harry Potter, sitting with his arm around a pretty young witch with striking red hair.

Contessa tore her eyes away from them, with a marked sense of irritation that was not hers, to see Hagrid walking carefully down the centre aisle with a bundle of purple velvet and gold stars held gently in his arms.

Silent tears were running down Hagrid's face as he placed Dumbledore's body on the marble table. Fumbling around for a colossal handkerchief, Hagrid blew his nose loudly before proceeding back up the aisle.

Griselda shook her head and Augusta tutted conspicuously. Contessa was overcome with an urge to chuckle at their reaction. Outpourings of grief were not welcomed in the wizarding world, or indeed by the Muggle community. It seemed paradoxical that people's behaviour was so distinctly incongruous to the occasion.

Looking towards the forest, she saw the centaurs standing in the shade at the edge of the trees, their bows hanging at their sides. The merpeople finished their song and broke through the surface of the water to listen to an old wizard dressed in black, tufts of white hair poking out of his black pointed hat.

The eulogy to Dumbledore was lengthy but held great beauty in parts, celebrating a life lived to the full. Dumbledore would no doubt have been mildly embarrassed by all this attention and somewhat amused by the supposed grief of certain Ministry officials.

Severus's hand shifted in hers but did not pull away as the man dressed in black robes resumed his seat.

Bright white flames erupted suddenly, encasing Dumbledore's body, and white smoke spiralled above the marble table. Contessa thought she could make out a magnificent phoenix flying gracefully into the cloudless sky.

Suddenly, Severus's hand was gone, and Contessa jumped a little in her seat as the fire vanished.

The gasps and screams of the crowd subsided as a white marble tomb was revealed. Severus's presence returned, encircling her hand. She felt a reassuring calmness.

A tribute of arrows fired from the centaurs' bows landed safely, far short of the funeral party. The centaurs retreated into the Forbidden Forest and the merpeople sank slowly into the water.

As the gathering began to break up, Contessa spotted Charity Burbage talking with Professor Sinistra as they left their seats. A sense of urgency washed over Contessa, compelling her to rise from her seat.

"Excuse me," she said to Griselda and Augusta, who nodded at her departure.

As Contessa approached Professor Burbage, she felt Severus's hand tighten, and then he was gone.

---

Contessa arrived home in the early evening to find Severus sitting under the shade of the oak tree, his nose buried in a book.

He didn't look up as she approached him.

Contessa cast a Summoning Charm. A bottle of elf-made wine and two glasses glided out of the open cottage door. With a flick of her wand, the wine poured itself into the glasses. Taking one for herself, she directed the other towards Severus. It hovered in the corner of his vision until he could no longer ignore it.

Snapping his book shut in an aggravated fashion, Severus scooped the glass into his hand and looked up at her intolerantly. Contessa was startled at the contrast with his manner from earlier in the day.

She met his gaze resolutely as she raised her glass.

"To Dumbledore."

Severus capitulated to the request with a sigh and rose to his feet with his glass in hand.

"Dumbledore," he said, his voice muted.

As they both took a sip, Contessa allowed the warmth of the wine to spread through her body, and she felt herself slowly relax.

Severus sat back down under the tree, put down his glass and picked up his book. Acting on impulse, Contessa gathered up her dress robes and joined him in the cool shade.

Severus threw her a sidelong glance of annoyance, designed to provoke her departure. She bristled slightly, but ignored his gesture and continued to sip her wine, settling back against the tree trunk. She didn't want to be alone after the funeral.

Severus placed his book back down on the ground in an exaggerated movement, resigned to the conversation that was about to follow.

"You spoke to Charity?" he asked acerbically.

"I did," Contessa replied calmly. "I'm not sure she really heard me, but I tried."

"You should have tried harder then," Severus said.

Contessa gasped in indignation. "We aren't in the classroom now," she said huffily.

Severus seemed to bite back a retort.

Eventually, after a long silence he replied in a veiled low voice, "Her life is in danger."

"I know," Contessa cut him off crossly. "I can work that one out for myself."

"You must make sure the Order of the Phoenix protects her."

Contessa looked back at Severus seriously and saw a flicker of regret across his face.

"What is it?" She asked him. "What did He Who Must Not Be Named want with you?"

Severus paused momentarily before saying, with a trace of apprehension, "The Dark Lord wanted to know where Professor Burbage lives."

Contessa's intake of breath was distinctly audible. When she recovered herself, she looked back at the man sat beside her, unable to hold back the next question.

"What did you tell him?"

Severus looked away towards the cottage with an air of acquiescence.

"I told him she lived in a Muggle town in Yorkshire, but I didn't know which one."

Contessa attempted to hide the revulsion she felt; Severus had disclosed information that could put Professor Burbage's life in danger. However, watching his grim features closely, she sensed his discomfort. Contessa started to understand the inevitable consequences of Severus's role as spy. With a pang of sorrow, she wondered how many other times he had been in such a position.

"He Who Must Not Be Named could've obtained that information from the Ministry of Magic with very little difficulty," she said reassuringly.

Severus nodded stiffly, took a large sip from his wine glass and resumed reading his book.

They sat in silence for a long while. Contessa felt content enough to sit, recalling the memories of the day and processing the emotions the funeral had roused in her. Butterflies fluttered past in the warm evening sunshine, and a curious blackbird approached them several times, lured in by their stillness.

"Did something happen during the funeral?" Contessa asked suddenly. "I felt your absence," she explained.

Severus looked up at her, annoyance back on his face. A memory registered in his eyes and he snapped his book shut, sweeping up off the ground in one swift movement.

Contessa looked up at him in confusion. Severus jerked his head towards the cottage impatiently, and she got up off the ground and followed him in through the front door.

The curtains were drawn once again. Severus gestured her over to the corner where the phoenix's makeshift perch stood.

Realising that she had not seen Fawkes at all since she had arrived home, Contessa approached slowly, her eyes adapting gradually to the gloom.

In the basin below the perch, there was a pile of ashes. Underneath the ashes, a baby phoenix poked out its head and squawked quietly.

"Ooh," said Contessa, a feeling of trepidation creeping through her.

Dumbledore spoke softly to her from his frame. "It wasn't before time. Hanging on for the funeral, I suspect."

Contessa was struck by a sense of wonder. "A baby phoenix!" she said in awe, lifting the baby bird's golden beak with her index finger. Fawkes looked back at her affectionately, rubbing his head on her knuckle. Contessa smiled, before laying Fawkes' head gently down in the nest of ashes.

Feeling struck by the enormity of the event, she looked at Dumbledore and said nervously, "I have no idea what to do..."

Dumbledore was about to reply when Severus cut in. "You don't know what to do?" he asked with pointed sarcasm. "I wonder what the Ravenclaw Revolutionary was actually doing in her Care of Magical Creatures lessons?"

Contessa turned on her heel to face Severus, a surge of old aggression and contempt building inside her. Her hands went instantly to her hips and she shot him a look of daggers across the room.

"Probably plotting a rebellion against the new Potions master," she said nastily.

Severus's eyebrows travelled further up his forehead as he opened his mouth to speak. Dumbledore, however, interrupted.

"Moths," said the Headmaster stoically.

Contessa turned to face the portrait.

"Moths?" Contessa asked, trying unsuccessfully to keep the animosity towards Severus out of her voice.

"Baby phoenixes eat moths," Severus gloated from behind her.

Contessa prickled with indignation but didn't turn around, effectively cutting him off from the conversation.

Dumbledore continued to speak, apparently unaware of the conflict in the room. "You must catch them before dusk falls. Fawkes will be self sufficient within a week."

Despite her hostility towards Severus, Contessa felt a bubbling surge of excitement and responsibility. She smiled at Dumbledore and turned towards Severus, who appeared surprised to see her looking happily at him.

Contessa knew he was on the back foot, and she approached him with mock playfulness. "Come Severus, let's see what we can rustle up for dinner!"

Taken aback by her change of composure, Severus looked towards Dumbledore's portrait with an expression of perplexity as Contessa skipped past him and left for the garden in a flurry.

---

A New Memory

Severus stood in the living room momentarily stunned as he watched Contessa bounce merrily into the garden. He was finding her mood changes rather unpredictable and infuriating.

Dumbledore's portrait coughed quietly at him from across the room. Severus met the Headmaster's gaze with exasperation. Dumbledore's eyes followed Contessa's path out of the house, and he inclined his head towards the front door for emphasis.

Severus was about to reply, but thought better of it. He knew Dumbledore was expecting him to find some way to repay Contessa for her help with the rings. There was no point in arguing.

With his shoulders hunched he slouched out of the cottage.

Across the garden, Severus could make out the figure of his hostess running around the apple orchard. In one hand she held an empty flask, the size of a jam jar. He watched her as she flicked her wand with increasing annoyance.

When he could no longer wait without intervening, Severus approached her with caution, not wishing to stray into her building temper.

"It's too early. The sun has not quite set," he told her with cool rationality.

Contessa flashed a look of irritation towards him before resuming her pointless task.

"Stop," he commanded her forcefully, grabbing out for the arm which held the glass jar and pulling her to face him.

For a fleeting moment the rings touched and a rush of anger and frustration engulfed him.

Contessa seemed to sober instantly.

Placing the jar on the ground, she straightened, looking down at the Tiger's Eye ring on her little finger. Severus noticed suddenly that her engagement ring was gone. A feeling of sadness took him by surprise and he shook it off habitually.

Contessa carefully removed the silver ring and pocketed it.

"We don't need these now," she said with a trace of hardness in her voice.

"No," Severus agreed, taking off his ring and holding it out towards her.

She looked at it briefly before turning away. "Keep it," she said stiffly. "It might come in useful."

Severus watched her tight features as he tucked the ring inside his robes and followed her to the wooden bench at the back of the garden.

Contessa sat, facing the sunset, her features heavy with the weight of the day's events. Severus stood next to the bench, facing the same pink and orange skyline, wondering how he was going to find a way to help this woman. And the sooner the better, if he wanted to be released from his obligation.

As he stood watching the sun sinking on the horizon, he could smell the heady scent of jasmine in the air. Bats started to poke their heads out of their nests in the roof of the cottage and swoop around the garden silently. Severus watched them darting gracefully and was reminded of Fawkes. The phoenix had renewed himself after his master's funeral.

Suddenly an idea came to him.

Unexpectedly, Severus was pulled out of his thoughts by a question.

"Will Death Eaters be frequent visitors?" Contessa asked him, fidgeting nervously on the bench.

"Why do you ask?" he replied, unsure of what had prompted her query.

"I was thinking about what you said earlier – that the Dark Lord would send them to fetch you." Contessa shuddered. "What should I do if they arrive?"

Severus paused to consider his answer. He sat down next to her on the bench.

"Death Eaters are unlikely to come to the cottage," he said with conviction.

"How do you mean?"

He sighed. "The Dark Lord believes you to be under the Imperius Curse."

Contessa nodded at this, but without comprehension.

"I've asked him to keep my location secret so that we are not disturbed..."

"I don't understand," she said with a hint of impatience.

Severus turned away from her and faced the setting sun. "The Dark Lord believes I am enjoying more than just your company," he said quietly, ignoring the scoffing sound emitting from the woman beside him. "It is my reward for loyal service."

As soon as the words left his mouth, Severus felt his cheeks burning, and he was infinitely grateful for the ambient glow of the sunset hiding his discomfiture.

"Enjoying more than just my company?" she repeated incredulously. "Unbelievable." Contessa shook her head and rose from the bench, striding away until she was out of reach with her back towards him.

"Surely the Imperius Curse cannot perform such a remarkable feat!" she pondered. "Or can it?" she rounded upon him, but her expression suggested she wasn't entirely sure she wanted to hear the answer.

Severus watched her as the sun dipped below the horizon, her redoubtable profile bearing down on him with indignation. He knew that the answer he gave would be judged instantly, but he also felt compelled to give her a truthful reply. He took a deep breath.

"It can," he responded, his voice clipped in the twilight.

Contessa blanched and her eyes narrowed. Turning away from him, she picked up the glass jar and stalked towards the orchard.

Severus watched her for a short while as she gathered Fawkes' first meal. It was no surprise that Contessa thought him capable of such coercion, but her implied rejection of him gnawed at an old wound. Memories of a swirl of red hair disappearing behind the Fat Lady's portrait flashed before him.

Severus had long ago become accustomed to being alone; he felt certain it was his destiny. No one would accept him for what he truly was. Dumbledore was the only person who knew him well, but the Headmaster had been prone to judging him. Severus had a sense that he never lived up to the Headmaster's expectations, despite his well intended actions.

No, Severus had learned he fared better if he kept himself hidden. His talent and flair were of more importance; sharp intellect was a worthy value.

Deciding it would be better to leave Contessa alone, Severus gathered up the remnants of the wine and glasses and picked up his book. He returned to the cottage, moving twitchily through the descending darkness.

Fawkes was chirruping softly in the living room. Severus went over to the perch and stroked the baby phoenix gently. "Supper is on its way," he reassured him.

Sinking into the armchair, Severus reopened the book he had been reading. Contessa had a small but excellent library with which he could while away the long hours alone.

Darkness had fallen completely by the time she returned inside. The glass jar was full to the brim with Stunned moths. Contessa appeared calmer now; it seemed she had taken out her frustration on the poor creatures and had procured enough moths for a whole week. Severus admired her pragmatism.

Contessa walked past the armchair and fed the baby bird by hand, until it was full to bursting. Fawkes clucked happily back at Contessa and then settled down in his nest of ashes. Contessa watched the phoenix as it fell into a deep slumber.

Turning to face Severus, she looked at him uncertainly.

"You have another question?" Severus asked evenly.

Contessa shifted uneasily on the spot. "What happens if the Dark Lord himself pays a visit?"

Severus had not anticipated this question and his eyebrows crept slowly up his forehead. "That is unlikely."

"But not impossible?" she pressed.

Severus sighed inwardly. Contessa needed to feel prepared for all eventualities. It was a Ravenclaw trait.

"Act as though you have been Confunded," Severus suggested, "a vacant, glazed expression."

She snorted quietly. "I know the Dark Lord is an accomplished Legilimens," she began, some trepidation in her voice.

"You wish me to teach you Occlumency," Severus surmised.

"No," she replied, shaking her head. "I'm an adequate enough Occlumens. However, should the Dark Lord seek access to my memories... how do I know which ones to show him?"

Severus sensed immediately that she had a point; he might need such a memory himself. He searched his own recollections for an appropriate scene.

"Well, this evening we shared a glass of wine in the shade of the oak tree."

"Very romantic," she sneered. "The Dark Lord expects you to woo me?" Her voice was scathing.

"No," Severus conceded. He placed his book down and rose to his feet.

They looked each other up and down, sizing each other up. Dumbledore's portrait let out a soft chuckle.

Contessa's eyes flashed viciously and she turned to face the picture frame with her hands on her hips.

In one swift movement, Severus gripped Contessa's forearm and roughly pulled her back towards him. The force of the about-turn sent her body colliding into his. He held her tightly and noticed a wave of surprise and fear in her eyes.

"Let go of me!" she demanded, struggling against his pincer-like grip.

Severus held her firmly. "It will be better for you if you do not fight." His voice was hypnotically soft and low.

Contessa relaxed a little in his arms; she seemed to have realised his plan. Severus inclined his head closer and closer, until their noses almost touched. Her pupils dilated and she held her breath in suspense.

Severus's head turned slightly to the left and his black hair grazed her cheek. Into her ear, a voice of dark velvet whispered, "Close your eyes."

Contessa let out a little gasp, but Severus felt her compliance as her eyelashes brushed against his cheek.

Holding her still for a moment, his breath warm on her neck, Severus closed his eyes too.

Then, gently, Severus let go of Contessa and walked quietly away.

He watched her for a short time and took in her rigid, tense posture, her hands clenching furiously at her sides. She didn't open her eyes.

Severus saw her now as a woman; no longer a student, with a striking beauty in her unsettled features. The moment he realised his appreciation of her, he quickly reminded himself of Lily and customarily shook off the unwanted feelings.

He clapped his hands together once.

Contessa jumped and opened her eyes, surprised to see him so far away from her.

"That memory should suffice," Severus said coolly.

Contessa shivered as though waking up.

Severus picked up his book and made his way to the stairs, pausing briefly at the bottom. "Goodnight."

Contessa stood gazing at him, but did not return his parting gesture. She seemed unable to speak.

Severus ascended the stairs and closed the door of the guest room on her discomposed face.

---

Part of the Plan

Contessa and Severus spent the following week giving each other a wide berth. Work at the Ministry kept Contessa busy by day, and she attended regular Order meetings to keep abreast of developments. Along with Kingsley Shacklebolt and a few others, Contessa continued to act as the Order's eyes and ears at the Ministry, passing on intelligence which would help to decide the date and method of transportation for Harry Potter's move from Privet Drive.

She had been delighted to hear the news of the recent marriage of Remus Lupin to the Auror, Nymphadora Tonks. It was high time the pair got together and nice to have some good news in the weeks following Dumbledore's death. However, Severus greeted the news with disparagement, and Contessa had the distinct impression that Severus held some sort of grudge against the werewolf.

Usefully, Severus had been able to feed titbits of information back to Voldemort which would not prejudice the Order's plans to protect Harry. In turn, Severus had proved a valuable resource for the Order, providing reports on Voldemort's attempts to infiltrate the Ministry.

Contessa noticed that Severus was spending more and more time away from Squirrel's Leap, and she suspected it was not all on the Dark Lord's bidding. When she questioned him he remained evasive. Contessa had wondered if Severus was simply avoiding her, but in the end decided she should respect his privacy, whatever his reasons might be.

They settled into an unspoken pattern, taking turns to feed the baby Fawkes, who was growing at a fast rate under their care and was now the size of a woodpigeon. Conversations centred on the care of the phoenix, and discussions about the books which Severus was devouring from her bookshelf. Contessa was learning to appreciate the sharp intellect of the man lodging in her home.

At the beginning of the second week, Severus had read the entire contents of her library and was growing restless and tetchy, cooped up in the cottage with nothing to do. Together they had set up a cauldron in the cottage's out-house, and he spent some time brewing potions and experimenting to pass the long hours alone. Contessa had procured some Polyjuice Potion to allow him to leave the confines of Squirrel's Leap, but he had shown little interest in doing so. It seemed he preferred to be alone, as long as he had something to occupy his mind.

On one evening the Order of the Phoenix met in the Headteacher's Office at Hogwarts. Professor McGonagall looked a decade older, the strain of the past two weeks apparent on her lined face. Snape was referred to once or twice; Alastor Moody had searched Severus's quarters at Hogwarts three times over, looking for clues to his location. He had found nothing. Contessa offered to dispose of Professor Snape's belongings, and it was agreed that this was now appropriate.

She had been surprised upon entering Severus's personal chambers to find them sparsely furnished and bleak in decoration. Moody had searched the quarters roughly with little regard for the contents, and the room appeared quite messy. Contessa packed as many belongings as possible into a trunk, upon which she had performed an Undetectable Extension Charm.

When Contessa arrived home that evening, she met Severus at the door and levitated the trunk across the threshold. She slumped, exhausted, onto the sofa and the trunk dropped with a resounding thud on the floor.

Severus raised his eyebrows enquiringly.

"Your belongings," she explained.

"From Hogwarts?"

"Yes," she replied. "I was expected to burn them, I think, but I thought you'd appreciate a few more books and a change of clothes."

Severus lifted the lid of the trunk to find his personal library stacked neatly inside, the rolls of parchment he had been working on the night the Death Eaters arrived in the castle, and his entire wardrobe of teaching robes, neatly pressed and folded, along with his grey nightshirt and a pair of boots.

"Thank you," he said quietly, lifting out a freshly laundered, high-collared, white shirt.

"I took the liberty of pressing your shirts for you," said Contessa, aware of the bemused expression on Severus's face. "I think Alastor was a little heavy-handed; your room was very untidy."

Severus regarded her in surprise for a moment. "No doubt," he replied, a curious smile curling his lips.

"I'm afraid there's not much choice, though. It's mostly all teaching robes." Contessa paused to consider that she had never actually seen him wearing anything else during her time at Hogwarts.

"These are sufficient for my needs," he replied, levitating the trunk and sending it towards the open door of the bedroom.

Contessa heard a fluttering of wings and felt the soft warmth of Fawkes land on her shoulder. She looked around at the bird and was met by a mouthful of warm feathers, as the young phoenix rubbed his head against her face. He looked back at her and gave a soft chirrup into her ear.

Severus sat down in the armchair, looking down at his hands.

"You have news?" Contessa asked.

"There will be a meeting at Malfoy Manor tomorrow evening. I shall be expected to provide the Dark Lord with information."

Contessa took a deep breath, as she paused to consider her response. "The Order has set the date for Harry's departure from Little Whinging." She hesitated as Severus watched her expectantly.

His eyebrows arched. "When is it?" Severus asked, his dark eyes glittering dangerously.

"I don't know if..." She faltered and looked away from Severus in embarrassment.

"It's alright, Tess," said Dumbledore, stepping into his portrait and regarding them both seriously. "Severus needs to know and it's best it comes from you."

Contessa swallowed. "The twenty-seventh of July at nightfall," she said reluctantly.

"Ahead of Potter's birthday?" Severus asked.

"Yes. The Order plans to set a false trail through the Ministry, however. They're convinced the Ministry has been infiltrated by He Who Must Not Be Named, and won't seek their help in moving Harry."

An uncomfortable silence stretched out across the room. Fawkes hopped down her arm and landed on the small coffee table, proceeding to tear strips from the Daily Prophet. Contessa sighed and arose from her seat, padding wearily into the kitchen to make a hot drink. Pausing at the sink, she reached out for a second mug for her guest and listened to Dumbledore's voice drifting through the open doorway.

"You will have to give Voldemort the correct date of Harry's departure from his aunt and uncle's," said Dumbledore. "Not to do so will raise suspicion, when Voldemort believes you to be so well informed. However you must plant the idea of decoys. That I think ought to ensure Harry's safety. Try Confunding Mundungus Fletcher. And Severus, if you are forced to take part in the chase, be sure to act your part convincingly...I am counting upon you to remain in Lord Voldemort's good books as long as possible, or Hogwarts will be left to the mercy of the Carrows."*

Contessa walked back into the living room and handed Severus a mug of steaming hot chocolate. He accepted it with a curt nod before turning again to face Dumbledore's portrait.

"Why Fletcher?" he asked.

Dumbledore considered him for a moment.

"Contessa could plant the idea," Severus suggested.

Dumbledore shook his head. "No, Contessa is best kept out of it as much as possible. We do not want the Order turning up at Squirrel's Leap, as will happen if she becomes too involved in the planning. No, Mundungus is the one, easier to Confund and capable of thinking up such a piece of skulduggery."

Severus nodded his acceptance.

"Tess." Dumbledore turned to face her. "You will need to set up a meeting with Mundungus, and take Severus along with you."

"I shall find him and arrange it," she replied.

"Do you have any news on the contents of my Will?" Dumbledore asked Contessa.

"It's still impounded and I expect they'll keep it for the full thirty-one days before releasing it," she said, weariness creeping into her voice.

"Godric Gryffindor's sword?" asked Dumbledore.

"As you know, it's still at Hogwarts. From what I can gather, Scrimgeour has overridden Professor McGonagall's authority and decided it won't be released."

Dumbledore sighed. "Ah well, I was half expecting it. Tess, I think the time is coming for you to resign your post at the Ministry."

Severus's head turned sharply in surprise.

"I think so too," Contessa replied, ignoring Severus.

"But first, I have one more request," said Dumbledore.

"Of course."

"The Ludicrous Patents Office should have a copy of the patent for Gryffindor's sword. Find it and take a copy."

Contessa nodded. "That should be easy enough."

"Try as well to find out what you can from the Goblin Liaison Office – who made the sword, and their descendants. Ask Griselda too; she might have some useful contacts."

"Goblins are notoriously secretive," Contessa commented. "It will be difficult."

"I know, but we must try," said Dumbledore.

Severus peered enquiringly at Contessa, but she felt too tired to give him a full explanation. He was going to find out soon enough, anyway.

"The Ministry is becoming more dangerous every day," Contessa said wearily. "I need to get out of the Ministry before it falls to the Dark Lord. I have another position to take up in the coming weeks which will be of more use to the Order in the long run."

Contessa saw some understanding in Severus's face and decided she had told him as much as necessary at this point in time.

She turned to leave. "I'm off to bed; there's a lot to do tomorrow."

Contessa shuffled upstairs, leaving Severus alone with the phoenix and the shredded copy of the Daily Prophet.

---

Author's Note:

Where I have quoted dialogue from the original Harry Potter books, I have marked it with an asterisk.