Waiting in Darkness

The best-laid plans often go awry, and the first signs of this came when the venue for the Order of the Phoenix meeting changed to Grimmauld Place.

Snape decided that the evening's activities could still be conducted if the meeting did not overrun, so long as he and Tonks could make their way to the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom undetected.

He arrived at the scruffy Georgian terrace at six o'clock in the evening, determined to be the last person to arrive, as was his custom. Snape believed punctuality to be a virtue; however, early arrival was also to be avoided, so as not to offend or to impose unwanted company upon others. Arriving after everyone else also conveyed a sense of his importance to the Order.

It was also true that Snape did not want people to notice he had time on his hands, and this was something he rarely admitted to himself. When he was not occupied with his duties, Snape spent his time reading, researching, honing his intellect and talent, and keeping abreast of current affairs. The less time he had to dwell on the past, the better. Conducting an illicit affair with an Auror had been the most recent distraction from his times of yore, and it had been an agreeable diversion.

The yellow glow of street lamps lit the grotty terraced houses, and the light reflected on shiny black bin bags dotting the pavements, in open invitation to vermin and other forms of city wildlife. The sound of loud Muggle music pumped out of a nearby window, lending the street an unwelcoming and inauspicious air. It was truly ironic that the noble House of Black resided in such impecunious surroundings.

The peeling paint of the battered door to Headquarters revealed itself the moment Snape thought of number twelve, Grimmauld Place. The serpent-shaped silver doorknocker gleamed as he tapped the door with his wand, and after a few clunking sounds of grinding metal, the black door swung open to reveal the gloomy, dusty hallway within.

It had been months since Snape had visited the late Sirius Black's family home, and the musty smell of ageing décor and decaying parchment accosted his nostrils.

The kitchen was already buzzing with the sounds of the assembled Order. Alastor Moody was standing in a corner near the window, smoking a pipe, and Dumbledore was seated at the head of the long, narrow table, conversing animatedly with Dedalus Diggle, whose violet-coloured top hat kept slipping down his forehead.

Snape surveyed the remaining members: Minerva McGonagall conversing primly with Mundungus Fletcher, Hagrid sitting in front of the large fire, effectively stealing its heat, Arthur Weasley without his wife, and finally, tucked away in an alcove, Snape recognised the long leather coat of a mousey-haired Auror blocking his view of another Order member, Remus Lupin.

Snape felt a cavern of emptiness swell inside his stomach, and moments later his fists rolled into balls. The werewolf had returned.

By now most of the people in the room had turned to greet Snape, and he forced himself to maintain his composure, smoothing his face into his usual sphinx-like mask. He nodded brusquely to those welcoming him, but he could not prevent his eyes from boring into the back of Nymphadora Tonks' head, willing her to turn around and acknowledge his presence.

Lupin found Snape's gaze first and nodded his greeting, prompting Tonks to turn around. At first her face was sad and serious, but when she saw Snape she flinched gauchely and quickly looked away.

Snape felt a red-hot lump forming in his throat. It seemed as though he had intruded upon something private, and yet they were all here, in the company of others, as if everything were normal. Snape shut down his feelings, swallowing the fist of fury burning his windpipe.

"Severus! Excellent!" Dumbledore called, waving for silence. "We are all assembled. Shall we begin?"

The gathering moved to assume seats, and Snape pulled up a chair closest to the door. He watched as Minerva and Alastor moved to take seats next to him. Tonks tried to avoid Snape's gaze as she sat down, insisting that Lupin sit beside her, and then she focused her eyes on the Headmaster.

After the usual opening remarks, Dumbledore called upon Snape to deliver his intelligence on the plans and movements of the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters. Snape imparted the information he had gleaned from the meeting on New Year's Day, providing a list of witches and wizards who had been selected for special attention. It was agreed that some of the more vulnerable families on the list should be protected or given a tip-off to go into hiding, whilst the members of wizarding society considered more capable of defending themselves could simply be warned of the dangers. Snape felt satisfied that his contribution had been of value, and he sat back in his chair to listen to the tales from the rest of the Order.

Dumbledore explained that his absences from Hogwarts would be continuing throughout the next school term, but he remained cagey regarding his intended whereabouts. Snape wished the Headmaster trusted him enough to confide in him; however, at least the old wizard was uniformly secretive with the entire Order.

The Ministry had agreed to continue with their commitment to provide Hogwarts with a complement of Aurors, and Tonks, Dawlish, Proudfoot and Savage were resuming their posts at Hogsmeade. It appeared that the Minister for Magic had leaned heavily on John Dawlish to tail the Headmaster over Christmas, and Dumbledore had once again been forced to jinx the unfortunate Auror to maintain his privacy.

Dumbledore reported that the Ministry had allowed a one-off Floo connection to Hogwarts Castle, to enable the students to return quickly and safely for the start of term.

Lupin relayed his report on his time spent with the werewolf pack, which had come to a natural and unsuccessful end. Fenrir Greyback's supremacy continued unabated, but this did not mean that the Order's tame werewolf was ready to give up on his mission; Lupin intended to attempt another infiltration by moving further north and finding a way into a disparate pack, rumoured to roam in the Scottish Highlands. It would be a dangerous mission, since isolated communities of werewolves were known to be more feral than their socialised counterparts, but Lupin was insistent upon his choice, despite the concerned murmurings of the Order.

Tonks' horrified expression caused Snape's stomach to twist and churn; he wished she would show as much disquiet whenever he was summoned to serve at the Dark Lord's side. His undercover work was just as perilous as Lupin's, if not more so. It riled him to think that the werewolf was worthy of more attention than he.

Snape tried not to stare at the young Auror, but he accidentally caught Lupin's eye more times than usual etiquette would allow. Lupin, who looked thinner and shabbier than ever, did not seem perturbed by Snape's glare and acknowledged him with his customary half-smile which conveyed patience and tolerance.

Snape had abhorred Lupin's calm composure during the werewolf's time as Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, and he had tried many ways to incite the Marauder to anger or ignominy, but had never been successful; Lupin's even temper and gentle disposition had always prevailed. It soon became a game to Snape, but when his methods of provocation had failed to force Lupin out of the school, Snape resorted to the tactic of revealing the professor's werewolf status directly to a Slytherin student. If the insufferable Miss Granger hadn't kept her suspicions to herself, Snape would not have had to win the game by cheating.

Not that he had anything against cheating, per se. He was a Slytherin, after all.

As the meeting drew to its conclusion, Snape was beginning to notice a burrowing resentment residing in his gut. He begrudged the attention that Lupin was receiving from Tonks, despite the fact that the object of her affection appeared uncomfortable in her company. Tonks had glued herself to Lupin's side for the duration of the meeting, and now that the Order had vacated their seats, she showed no signs of leaving him alone. Snape tried once or twice to gain her notice, but she refused to grant him audience.

Torn between leaving without his prize and staying to lay claim to it, Snape eventually left the room, leaving a reluctant-looking Lupin and his Auror companion alone. He said his goodbyes to the others in the hallway and lingered behind, listening in through the closed door to the kitchen.

"Don't do it, Remus," Tonks was pleading. "It's too dangerous."

"I have to, Dora," Lupin replied. "I'm the Order's only hope with the werewolves. I have to try."

"But you've tried already. It's hopeless. We both know it."

"I refuse to argue with you," Lupin stated mildly. "We all put our lives on the line every day in the fight against You-Know-Who. You would do the same, if you were me."

Tonks did not reply. Snape strained at the doorway, desperate to hear what was unfolding.

Eventually, Tonks voice was a discernible, weakened murmur. "I love you, Remus. I don't want to lose you. Please stay."

"We've been through this before," came Lupin's harsh reply. "We cannot be together. I'm not the right man for you; associating with me will only cause you harm, and I cannot give you what you deserve. That is why I ended our relationship."

"Just because you can say those things... it doesn't make them true, Remus. I miss you. I miss waking up to you in the morning, feeling you lying next to me, listening to your heartbeat. I'm incomplete, as if you took part of me with you. I'm still yours. I'll always be yours."

"I've told you already, Dora, our relationship is over. You have to move on."

Snape heard a sob and the pacing of footsteps towards the door. He ducked swiftly into the darkened front room and heard Tonks knocking over the troll's-foot umbrella stand as she ran down the hallway. The front door banged shut behind her as she left number twelve, Grimmauld Place.

The Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom awaited the arrival of Tonks like a carnivorous plant baiting its prey.

The room was deathly quiet, the illumination subdued to the level of dusk, and the furniture arranged in meticulous order. The atmosphere reflected Snape's persona in much the same way as the dungeons: dark and pensive, predatory and calculating, ascetic and disciplined.

His only preparation for Tonks' arrival had been the covering of the paintings on the classroom walls. Snape did not wish to have spectators during his encounter with the Auror.

And so he waited.

He waited long past nine o'clock.

Long past a time which he deemed fashionably late.

And long past a time which he could consider excusable.

And then longer still, into the dwindling hours of the evening.

Tonks did not deign to knock on his classroom door, or make any kind of contact with him, by owl or by Patronus.

Eventually, Snape had to accept the truth. She was not coming.

The following day, the sound of timid door-knocking broke Snape's already-fragmented concentration, and he impatiently shouted "Enter" towards the Potions office door.

He did not lift his eyes from the parchment on his desk containing his seventh-year lesson plan, but heard the creak of the latch and the click of high-heeled boots crossing the stone floor. Snape did not deign to look at his visitor; he wished to maintain an air of superior indifference towards the woman he expected to see.

"Severus," she said, a note of awkwardness present in her voice.

Snape dropped his quill into his inkpot and clasped his hands, raising his eyes slowly from his desk.

"Nymphadora," he replied, relishing her squirm of humiliation from the way he had enunciated her name.

The young witch stood quite still, illuminated by the amber glow of the afternoon sunshine streaming through the high windows of the dungeon. She appeared pale, with dark circles beneath her puffy, reddened eyes.

A knot of sympathy threatened to unfurl in his stomach, but Snape closed the feeling down and compressed it into a ball of steel. He would not be sorry for what had happened to her last night, not when she was the one who had stood him up.

He waited for Tonks to speak, assessing the witch's shrunken frame. Her eyes darted around the room. She was discomfited and weak, and he had her exactly where he wanted her.

"I..." she began hesitantly.

"Yes?"

Snape's reply was curt, and she flinched. Tonks appeared to take in a deep breath, straightened her spine, and looked him in the eye.

"I wanted to apologise for not coming last night."

Snape was ready to dissect her words one at a time, intending to make her pay for her discourteous behaviour. "You wanted to apologise? Have you now changed your mind?"

"No, I..." Tonks frowned, sensing his ploy. "I'm sorry I forgot to come."

"You... forgot?" The word stung Snape like an arrow to the gut.

Tonks nodded fretfully, then her rigid composure loosened, and she pulled up a chair.

"I did not invite you to sit," Snape observed.

The witch shot him a look of intolerance and promptly sat down.

"Really," Snape continued, "I should have thought you'd be on duty in Hogsmeade, now that the students have begun to arrive. When did you become so lackadaisical in your obligations, Nymphadora?"

"It's my hour off," she snapped in return.

Snape scoffed. "So you thought you'd visit the dungeons during your lunch-break for a bit of nookie? Perhaps you really do live up to your name, Nymphadora. How... charming."

"Shut up, Severus. You know I'm not here for sex."

The fizzing and whistling sound of the Floo Network made Tonks jump in her seat. Moments later the office fireplace roared into life, and its green flames delivered two sixth-year girls wearing cloaks and Slytherin scarves.

"Miss Bulstrode, Miss Greengrass, Happy New Year," Snape said, his tone more agreeable than usual. He couldn't help it. Their timing had been near-perfect.

The girls smiled at their Head of House, glanced suspiciously at Tonks, and returned his New Year greeting. The pair then left the office for the Slytherin common room.

Tonks appeared thoroughly disconcerted. Snape was starting to have fun.

"Then," he said, turning to face Tonks again, "why are you here?"

"I told you already," Tonks said, sighing. "To say sorry."

"Yes, yes, fake remorse duly noted. You may go now."

"My remorse is not faked."

"After your little display with the werewolf last night, you expect me to believe that?"

Tonks assessed him shrewdly, and Snape's collar suddenly felt rather tight. He didn't enjoy hearing her light laughter. Presently, her eyes became harder and her laugh turned into a smirk.

"You're jealous," she stated.

"I most certainly am not."

"Yeah, right." Tonks crossed her arms and raised one eyebrow.

Her dismissal gnawed at him.

"What evidence do you have of this so-called jealousy?" he asked tetchily.

"You're clearly annoyed that I didn't show up last night," Tonks replied.

"That is because of your ill-mannered behaviour; you failed to send word of your intention to cancel."

Tonks watched closely for a crack to appear in his demeanour, and Snape resolved to show no such weakness. He was not jealous. Her accusation was absurd.

"So, you're not jealous of me and Remus?"

The Marauder's name on her lips caused Snape's teeth to clench.

He fixed his ebony stare upon the Auror and affected a timbre of ambivalence when he spoke. "You and I are not attached, so why would I be jealous?" He shrugged. "Besides, from what I saw, there is no such thing as 'you and Remus', although there plainly has been at some point in the past."

Tonks fidgeted in her seat and picked at her fingernails.

The Floo hissed again, and this time two boys appeared, stepping over the fender and dusting black ash from their robes.

"Mister Baddock, Mister Pritchard, welcome back to Hogwarts." Snape noticed the greeting sounded a little strained in his ears.

He reprimanded himself silently, and then turned to cross four students from the register. The two Slytherins departed for their House, and Snape fixed his gaze upon the Auror again.

"For how long did you have sexual relations with Lupin?"

Tonks continued to stare at the floor. "Six months."

"And when did it end?"

"When I got out of Saint Mungo's last summer. Ever since the battle in the Department of Mysteries, he'd pretended we were still together... to help me recover from my injuries. When I was better, he ended it."

"How noble of him."

Tonks peered at Snape, clearly in pain. "Don't deride him, Severus. He's a good man."

"Then, perhaps I should deride you for your blatant delusions."

"I'm not deluded. We can't choose the people we fall in love with."

"You are deluded enough to believe he is a good man."

"You don't know him like I do."

"He is not the angel you paint him to be. You are fooling yourself."

Tonks' irritation spiked. "Perhaps you are jealous, Severus."

Snape's nostrils flared, and he noticed stab of heartburn rising in his throat. He recovered quickly. "And still you persist with your delusions."

"I don't know," Tonks pondered. "You seem to want to know all about me and Remus. Why is that?"

"Merely that he was the one preventing your attendance in the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom last night. I wish to ensure our arrangement remains mutually beneficial."

"You still sound jealous to me. Possessive, even."

This time the arrival of another student perturbed Snape more than Tonks.

"Miss Parkinson, good day to you," Snape said, attempting a cordial greeting.

The pug-faced girl smiled at her Head of House, lending her face a rather grotesque appearance. She then shot Tonks a supercilious look before heading for the door.

Snape was beginning to feel that Tonks' company had become rather irksome, and he wondered if the acid swirling in his stomach was due to the potency of the house-elves' onion soup at lunchtime. With several names left on the register and his lesson plan still incomplete, Snape wished to relieve himself of the Auror and her not-so-gentle probing.

"I am neither jealous nor possessive," he stated firmly.

"Prove it."

"I intend to."

When Tonks raised a half-smile, Snape dismissed her from his office and settled down to his afternoon's work.

One week later, when a naked and breathless Tonks screamed out his name, the tightness in his chest finally subsided.