Year Five: No Fury Nor Rage Denied

Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned

Nor hell a fury like a woman scorned.

The Mourning Bride (1697) by William Congreve.

Snape found himself in a dark, eerie graveyard under a starless sky. Himself shrouded in black, he blended into the night and shadows perfectly. But he knew that his presence had been immediately sensed, so there was no hiding or turning back.

He walked toward the silent beckoning and found the Dark Master standing before a tomb inscribed with the name 'Riddle.' There was no doubting the fact that he was now flesh and bone. The pale, almost corpse-like body moved with a fluid, animalistic grace as it turned to him.

"Severus," the Dark Lord purred in a dangerously deceptive way. "Better late than never, I suppose."

Snape immediately fell to his knees at the feet of his former master. "I came as quickly as I could possibly manage, my lord. My apologies for not being here as soon as called. It is my greatest pleasure to once again bow at my Master's feet."

It took effort to try and reenact the humbled groveling of a true Death Eater after thirteen years. But Snape knew his life depended on being believed and trusted. Showing up over two hours after the call of the Mark was not the best way to start off. He had prepared himself for the worst in any case.

"Yes, I'm sure catching Dumbledore's attention to attain permission to resume your old post was difficult amidst all the excitement set lose by Harry Potter." There was a cutting edge to the wizard's mocking.

Snape kept his head low and his mind sedate and clear. Carefully controlled images were allowed to ebb and flow in a natural form through his brain in case the Dark Lord chose to look.

"This has been a bittersweet reunion, Severus. For here I stand, flesh and blood at last. But at what cost? Potter was not supposed to leave this graveyard alive. I cannot express my displeasure on that." The Dark Lord's voice rose and fell in theatrical waves. "I was planning on making a much more dramatic, surprise entrance on the world. I suppose I will just have to adjust my plans." There was a dark chuckle. "Oh, if only I were a fly on the wall of Hogwarts tonight. Tell me, Severus, what chaos and terror has erupted in my alma mater on the news of Lord Voldemort's return?"

"There was great alarm, Master, within the faculty and staff. However, the Minister of Magic was reluctant to believe the testimony of the boy. Potter has been seen as a bit of an alarmist in regards to your return. And I'm afraid that Barty Crouch Jr. did not survive long after questioning by Dumbledore. Fudge brought in a Dementor."

"A truly valiant sacrifice, wouldn't you say, Wormtail?" the Dark Lord called out over his shoulder.

A lumpy, twitchy form shuffled from the shadows. "Oh, yes, my lord. Very valiant."

Snape would have recognized the pathetic blathering anywhere even after thirteen years. Peter Pettigrew was indeed as alive and well as the Dark Lord himself.

"You see, Severus," the Dark Lord continued in an calm, easy manner, "that is what I like from my faithful followers. Sacrifice of the highest cost if need be. And indeed giving up one's life, or one's limb, or even one's freedom in the service of their master is all very honorable."

A cold feeling began to spread through Snape as he knelt on the damp ground. But it had nothing to do with the chill in air or the grass. It came from inside him in the knowledge that the Dark Lord was just winding up for a truly vicious dissemination of vengeance.

"What do you say of your own honor, Severus?" The question was delivered as smoothly as a knife's edge. "How would you classify the last thirteen years of your life? Was it spent diligently searching for your lost master? Or confined in contemplative solitude, enduring endless agony while you conceived new, more horrible plans of revenge against your enemies and those of your master?"

Snape dared only to raise his eyes enough to see the pale, gnarled feet of the Dark Lord pace before him.

"Or did you spend the last thirteen years cozily tucked away under the protective wing of Albus Dumbledore, drawing a steady income and believing you were forever free of the shackles of obligation to Lord Voldemort?"

"My lord," Snape began with earnest, "I remained in the last post that you sent me to, following the very last order you gave me, patiently awaiting the next."

"Silence! Crucio!"

Snape felt his body curl up like a dead bug as the current of agony ripped through him. After a few seconds of gut-wrenching pain, the curse was lifted, and the Dark Lord again took to pacing in front of Snape's fetal, twitching form.

"How was it that you were in the most advantageous position of anyone to assist in my return, and yet you did nothing?" The Dark Lord's voice was beginning to hiss with anger.

Snape was still trying to catch his breath to answer when he was again hit with the Cruciatus Curse. After the violent charge was over, he lay on the ground twitching, his head nearly splitting with residual anguish.

"Get up and speak for yourself, man!" the Dark Lord shouted over Snape's prostrate form.

With energy he summoned from some unknown place, he managed to drag himself into a kneeling position again. Bloody saliva strung from his mouth and clung to the hair that hung in his face.

"I admit to my shortcomings, my lord," Snape uttered weakly. "I admit to listening to the theories that you were gone. I had no other clear information to follow. Everyone scattered. I was left to my own devices, and I admit to thinking first of self-survival." He stopped to swallow in an attempt to keep the vomit from rising further up his throat. "But my dedication to you and your ideals and plans never wavered. And I have much to show for my thirteen years of waiting, my lord. If you only allow me to prove myself once again."

Snape dared to look up and saw a pair of piercing red eyes gazing down at him with suspicious interest. The Torture Curse was not administered again. Instead the Dark Lord let out a smooth chuckle.

"This should be entertaining. Draw up a chair, Wormtail, for Severus is going to enthrall us with his adventures at Hogwarts." The cruel voice hardened. "Let us hope for his sake that it is more than just an amusing tale."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

At some point during the pale dawn of the next morning, Snape Apparated near Hogwarts. The world continued to spin long after his feet had found familiar ground. He stumbled and wove his way into the school, hoping to mercilessly go unnoticed. But before he had made his way to the safety of his dungeon, Dumbledore was at his side, guiding him with reassuring, firm arms.

The Headmaster didn't speak until they were safely inside Snape's chambers and Snape was able to collapse into a chair. From inside his robe, Dumbledore produced a vial, which he held before Snape. Obediently and without words, Snape took the potion and drank it, aware that it could be either a healing potion or a truth serum. A cool, soothing feeling immediately began to blanket him, taking the severe edge off the pain and dizziness.

"Tell me everything," Dumbledore said as he conjured a chair, which he placed directly in front of Snape.

"He wasn't happy," Snape managed with a dark look from between curtains of dirty, greasy hair.

"Obviously," Dumbledore said. "But I expected no less, as I'm sure did you. However, he did let you come back alive."

"I think his elation over being in a living, breathing body again overshadowed some of his fury. But he didn't plan on Harry Potter surviving to tell of his return." Snape spoke in careful breaths, trying to keep as still as possible and not disturb his tortured body.

"He intended to kill him last night."

"Of course. Still does, I expect. But the last thing he wanted was for you to know anything of his agenda. He's having to alter his plans, which he never likes doing."

"And what did he tell you?" Dumbledore edged closer in eager anticipation.

Somehow, Snape managed a pained chuckle. "You think he would tell me anything? He doesn't trust me. Especially after I spent the last thirteen years cozily tucked away under your wing, as he accused. But I was able to give him enough information about various things I have seen over the last few years to make him think that I could be of use." He gave Dumbledore a meaningful look with eyes empty of everything but soul-crushing exhaustion. "My leash is very short, Headmaster. I'm sure he thought more than once of disposing of me on the spot. It will take time before I'm allowed back to what I once was."

The old wizard stared hard at Snape with crisp blue eyes for a moment before he spoke. "If you say you can't do it, Severus, I won't make you."

"What, and leave myself forever in debt to you, sir?" His attempt at mockery was as weak as his body. "No, I would rather die honorably in my efforts."

"If you're afraid... "

"Who isn't afraid?" Snape spat. "What Death Eater has not looked at his family in the last 12 hours and wondered how long they are for the world? It's no wonder Lucius Malfoy was desperate enough to search out an old love potion maker and beg for something, anything to protect his wife and child. The only ones who aren't afraid right now are either fools or already dead."

"What of the Potter boy?" Snape asked quickly, wanting to drop all discussion of his own cowardice. "Will you tell him of his duty now?"

The energy seemed to spill from Dumbledore's frame. "In time, I'll have to. But he's been through so much. I can't in good conscience do it now."

"If you wait too long..."

"I know." The old man stood up and paced for a short while with hands behind his back, his eyes to the floor. "There are two things that must be done immediately if we are to gain any ground against Lord Voldemort. One is to have constant protection over Harry. He's our only hope, and Voldemort knows it. He will only double his efforts to get rid of the boy now. The second thing is to try to strengthen the Order of the Phoenix's numbers. We're alone on this, Severus. The Ministry will be of no help. In fact, I anticipate a fair amount of hindrance on their part. We will need to be exceptionally discrete."

"And so you enlist the help of a wanted criminal, a werewolf, and a few half-blood renegades?" Snape asked with another pained, sardonic smile.

"Who better at disguising their actions and whereabouts than those forced to do so every day of their lives?" Dumbledore returned the smile. "But there will be others. Even several from inside the Ministry itself. And of course, most importantly, we have you."

"For now," Snape murmured.

The Headmaster gave him a firm but slightly sad look over his half-moon spectacles.

"Would you like me to send Poppy down to tend to you?" he asked as he turned to go.

"No, it isn't necessary. Besides, I don't think either of us wishes to explain that much just yet."

Dumbledore nodded in agreement and headed for the door. "Rest, Severus. We need you well."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Snape considered just falling into bed fully clothed and filthy; his exhaustion was so overpowering. But the damp stench of old death and spent magic still clung to him, and he doubted he could rest easily in such a miserable shroud.

He stood under the scalding jet of his shower for a long time, just letting the water beat the grime and fatigue from his body. As he remained motionless, his mind rambled about, settling upon disjointed fragments of the last twelve hours. It seemed like it was a hundred years ago that he had dragged Davindra down to his chambers and devoured her young body. How he wished that all he need worry about was an illicit affair. Now, she seemed the very least of his concerns.

Snape realized that he was standing at the precipice of a raging field of fire. It wouldn't be long before he would have to plunge in head first. He had the sinking feeling that no matter if he dove in willingly or had to be bodily thrown, no one would ever think his sacrifice noble. There were two losing battles taking place: one to defeat the world's darkest and most powerful wizard and another to try to pull the name of Severus Snape up from the repellant cesspool of humiliation and cowardice it had stewed in for nearly fourteen years. Dumbledore forged ahead with faith that both causes could be victorious. In reality Snape doubted either could ever be accomplished.

Finally, when he felt as water-logged and shriveled as a prune, Snape emerged from the shower, dried himself, downed a heavy amount of a sedating potion, and fell into his bed to sleep without dreams or movement for nearly a day.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The end of the school year came with hardly any notice. Everyone seemed so consumed with their tasks, grief, and worries that the dismissal of Hogwarts for the summer barely registered. Snape managed to make it to the end of year feast, but was so overcome with exhaustion from all the work of getting the Order reinstated and answering to the Dark Lord's call that he hardly took note of the events around him.

He did allow himself the luxury of watching Davindra at the Ravenclaw table. She seemed as pensive and sad as everyone in the hall. There was no laughing and expressive gesturing as he had usually seen from her when surrounded by her fellow housemates. When she looked to him, her eyes seemed to ask so many unanswerable questions. They had hardly spoken since the night in his chambers. She must surely be left feeling very confused and afraid. But Snape had little room for sympathy when he himself wrestled with those same emotions. Their concentration on each other was broken by the beginning of Dumbledore's farewell speech.

After school was dismissed, Snape didn't get to return to Spinner's End, as he had hoped. Instead he ran between the temporary housings for the Order and the Dark Lord. The Order's first few participants met in Hogsmeade, then later at a spot near the Leaky Cauldron. Eventually Sirius Black had the grand idea to use his family home, which was in his possession but which he had not returned to since a very young man. Snape found it hard to believe that there was an inhabitable house more dismal and decayed than his own. It was hard to see how the Black family home could have ever been impressive. And it was no wonder that the youngest son left home at sixteen never to return until desperation forced him to.

The Dark Lord continued to change venues also in hopes it would keep talk of his return to rumors. The graveyard was abandoned and never used again, though it sat close to Tom Riddle's own family manor. Instead, he chose empty caves, abandoned houses, and deserted factories as the summoning spots for Death Eaters to come and pay their respects and serve their orders.

Snape was called back to answer more questions of his time spent in Hogwarts and to divulge more information about Potter and Dumbledore and the new formation of the Order of the Phoenix. He suffered from the Cruciatus Curse on occasion, but with less frequency as time passed. The Dark Lord was still suspicious of him, but he soon began to realize that of all his Death Eaters, Snape was not only the smartest but also the most brave and cunning.

Small bits of information began to trickle into the Order: estimates of locations, possible plans, names of Death Eaters, and their tactics for recruitment. It wasn't much, but it made them feel as though they were gaining some ground against the Dark Lord. Snape was just thankful to be able to appear useful to both camps. If he were ever to lose favor with one, the other would surely turn him out, if not exterminate him immediately. Sometimes he thought it too much work to try to stay alive.

It was near mid summer before he was finally able to take a few days and return to his home. The moment the door closed and he was immersed in the dark, dank silence of the house, Snape let out a deep sigh of exhaustion and relief. He was hardly three steps up toward his bedroom when a rattle at the door stopped him.

For more than a moment ,he considered ignoring whomever or whatever might be on the other side. But a nagging worry that it could be word from Dumbledore made him take the three steps back down and wrench the door open with impatient fury.

An owl sat at the stoop, a scrap of something red affixed to its leg. Snape couldn't remember the last time he had received a Howler. He stood holding the scarlet note in his hand, mentally listing the number of people who could want to yell at him, when it popped open and the unmistakable voice of Demelza Collins filled the hall.

WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?! I have been trying to track you down for days! I am positively sick with worry, and you are nowhere to be found!

Severus, you have GOT to do something! I beg you! You are her protector; you must do something immediately! And though I can assume you are quite "preoccupied" with all the new developments, I beseech you to give this matter your utmost attention. An innocent girl's life is at stake. I cannot bear to think the worst. You have to help us. I trust you above all others. Do not fail me, Severus! Contact me the moment you know something.

Snape slumped against the wall when the note was finally silenced and lying lifeless on the floor. This was the last thing that he needed. Another task that he was bound to accomplish under penalty of death. When his anger and annoyance subsided, Snape had to admit that there was a cold ball of dread in his stomach at the thought of Davindra being lost out there amongst the danger that now oozed from every dark corner. Could it be Malfoy? Or possibly just some derelict deviant who saw an opportunity?

Forgetting his tiredness, Snape rushed to gather the Vision Well and supplies. Hopefully, Davindra still had the binding amulet around her neck. It took a frustratingly long time to have the Well operational again. Snape feared that in the precious time that was squandered, any number of horrible things could have befallen her.

Finally, the smoky substance rolled about the bowl, and Snape placed the beryl crystal inside. He spoke the words that connected the twin stones and then concentrated on Davindra and the spell that would bring her to him. The room around him disappeared, and he felt the sting of being peeled away from his surroundings. Snape found himself in a heavy fog, which cleared only slightly to reveal a rundown street shrouded in rainy mist.

Just ahead of him a figure walked hunched forward, a jacket pulled tightly around her, her damp hair clinging to her body. The street was bordered on both sides by empty, rubbish-strewn lots, sagging fences, dilapidated houses, and closed store fronts. Everything was some shade of gray. A dingy film seem to blanket everything in an oppressive coating of permanent misery.

Davindra paid the scenery no notice but forged on with purposeful steps. She also hadn't seen the two young men who had taken up pace behind her. They stayed back but didn't let her out of their sight as they scurried around the curves and corners of the buildings. Snape looked around franticly for signs of where they could be. It could be any depressed, industrial town in England. Turning a corner, they passed a weathered street marker. The crossing of Shinbone Alley and Blue Avenue. Why was that familiar? Snape focused all his concentration on remembering, though he watched the two youths watching Davindra from half a block back.

Suddenly the realization hit him. It was his town. But on the opposite end from Spinner's End. He should have recognized the depressed aura of the place immediately. Snape flung himself out of the vision and back to his home, not even noticing the routine sharp sting. Outside his home, he Apparated to the corner of Shinbone and Blue. Davindra was now several blocks ahead and moving further away while the two thugs closed in.

They looked like so many of the youths who populated the dried up mill town: hollow, bored, and hopeless. But there was an edge of keen hunger as they eyed the young girl ahead of them. It could be that they wanted just a bit of entertainment, or perhaps they assumed she had money. Worse yet was the idea that they planned to take what Snape had already had of her.

Snape clutched his wand firmly within his cloak and hurried his steps until he was directly behind them. Within a flash, both hoodlums had turned to see who had so swiftly and silently snuck up behind them. One was thin and pale with dirty blonde hair and straggly facial hair. The other had dark skin, eyes, and hair, cropped close to his head. They seemed surprised to see a man clothed in head to toe black, looking even more menacing than them.

"Who are you, Count Dracula?" the dark one asked with amusement.

Snape narrowed his eyes back at them. "Sort of."

Giving an icy, sinister glare, he moved smoothly between them to catch up with Davindra. He heard no more approaching footsteps from the set and assumed that his appearance had thwarted their plans.

She was only steps ahead. Snape quickened his stride. Finally, he was close enough to reach out and grasp her shoulder. With amazing reflexes, Davindra let out a small shriek and spun around to attempt to drive the heel of her hand into the face of whoever stood behind her. Snape caught her wrist just in time.

When she saw him, she seemed to go limp with relief. "Oh, Professor, I'm so glad to see you."

"So it seems," he hissed. "Miss Collins, I am going to want the whole story of how you came to be so far from home and in such a dangerous place, causing no end of worry to your family, but not just yet. Right now, I want you to say nothing. I am still recovering from the screechings of your grandmother's Howler."

Snape grabbed her arm and began the march toward a better district of town where he hoped he could procure a taxi for them. It was growing dark, and the rain seemed to be coming in intermittent bursts of spray.

When they finally reached the safety of Spinner's End, they were both soaked through and tired. Davindra shivered and tried to find shelter and warmth against Snape's body. But he held her a hand's-width away from him at all times.

"Where are we?" she asked weakly as they climbed the worn, creaky steps to his door.

"The place I assume you were headed all along," he answered in an equally weary voice, "my home."

Still keeping a firm grip on her arm, Snape led her through the door, then closed it behind them and secured it with anti-intruder charms. It was almost as dark and damp inside the house as out.

"You live here?" Davindra's voice came close to him.

'This is why I don't have guests.'

"Yes, this is where I live," he spoke with clipped words.

Leaving her near the door, Snape started a fire in the fireplace and lit a few candles with quick flicks of his wand. Davindra took timid steps toward the living area as her eyes surveyed the dim surroundings.

"Actually, this is very YOU," she yielded.

"As soon as you are dry, you are going to your grandmother's," he snapped, ignoring her comments.

She made a disparaged sound. "I just got here! And I'm not leaving until you talk to me."

"I am not the one who needs to do a lot of explaining!" Snape shouted from across the room as he lit the last of the candles. "What in God's name did you think you were doing setting out alone during a time like this? Look at you. No proper coat, no bags. Do you even have your wand with you?"

"Yes," she hissed back. "But I don't know what good it would do me because I'm not allowed to use magic outside of school."

"You could defend yourself. Expelled is better than dead." Snape spun around to summon tea from the kitchen and a bottle of Firewhisky. "Did you even know that you were being followed by two delinquents who were only steps from overtaking you?"

"I saw them! I was just ignoring them, hoping they'd go away."

"Oh, good plan." Snape let his voice and his eyes ooze sarcasm, then took a long pull from the bottle in his hand.

The tea came to rest on a table near the fire, and Davindra took Snape's usual chair near it. He continued an angry pace about the room as he watched her pour herself a cup of tea and huddle around it for warmth.

"I was worried about you," she finally spoke. "You haven't answered any of my owls, you haven't spoken two words to me since... that night. And I know that if You-Know-Who is back, then that must mean..." She stopped and looked over her cup at him with haunted, weary eyes.

Snape stared back blankly. 'The pathetic, stupid, misguided, sweet child.'

"Miss Collins, I am a grown man. I can take care of myself in most every situation," he stated. The Firewhisky had now soothed his jangled nerves enough for him to speak reasonably. "I have been extremely busy and doing a great deal of traveling. I did not receive your owls. And yes, the Dark Lord is back and that means a great many things to a great many people. Taking off and telling no one where you were going is the most foolish thing you could have ever conceived. I don't have time, especially now, to go chasing after you."

Davindra lowered her eyes and ran her fingers through her still damp hair. She uttered a soft, "I'm sorry," into her tea. "I just needed to know you were alright."

Snape moved to sit on the couch across from her. "Tell me, what did you think you could do if you had managed to find me on your own and I was in some dire situation?" He cocked his eyebrow and drilled a grim stare into her.

She looked back with a tired but intense gaze, and her words were soft but determined. "I'd do anything I had to."

Taking another drag from the bottle, Snape then set it on the floor. He let his body come forward on the couch and magnified his cold expression. It was best to set things straight now rather than later, he decided.

"You know what happened was a mistake, don't you?" he began. "It was a terrible lapse in judgment on my part. I accept the responsibility for losing control, and you have every right to be angry..."

"Don't." Her voice was suddenly bitter and strong. "Don't you dare say you're sorry for it."

"It can't happen again, Davindra," he continued in an imperturbable way. "If it bothers you, I could Obliviate the memory, though it would be harder to do since some time has passed."

She stood up so quickly the cup in her lap fell to the floor with a sharp pop that sent the pieces scattering.

"You contemptible prick," she snarled. "You weren't so calm and matter-of-fact the night you dragged me to your bed. So, don't sit there and talk like it was a meaningless fling. The very idea that I let Draco Malfoy touch me sent you into such a jealous rage you couldn't even see straight! You couldn't bear the idea that someone besides you might have me."

Snape looked up at her blandly, through lank strands of damp hair, pursing his lips in an attempt to hide his surprise at her shrewd insight.

"Language, Miss Collins," he drawled. "That's a very romantic idea, but a bit fantastical. You have bombarded me with sexual advances for years now. I simply gave in, inappropriate and wrong as it was."

Davindra continued to glare at him with incredulous malice. "You think you are so cool. You think you have everyone fooled. Well, I haven't spent the past six years watching your every move and not learned a few things about you that I doubt even you are aware of." She leaned down to look him in the eye. "You can lie about a lot of things, Severus Snape, but not about this and not to me."

Snape stood up. "It's time for you to go. I'll let you explain to your grandmothers where you were and what you were doing, though I do still expect discretion about our little mishap. Tell Madame Collins no thanks is necessary."

Snape found his seldom used box of Floo Powder. He hoped it was still good. Holding it out before her, he continued his impassive blank expression. Davindra's eyes still smoldered darkly, and her lips stayed pressed into a thin line.

"This isn't the end of this. Not by a long way," she said with dangerous calm, taking a handful of powder. Throwing the powder into the fire, she gave him one last lethal look as she stepped into the fireplace and spoke the name, "Sparrow Manor." With a burst of green flame, she was gone.

Snape stood at his spot watching the now empty hearth. "Hell indeed hath no fury," he muttered to the silent house around him.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Bright and early the next morning, Snape sat in his armchair, nursing a hangover and a cup of strong coffee while listening to Madame Collins rant and rave as she paced his living room.

"Although I'm very grateful for your efforts in finding Davi and returning her safely to us," the woman spoke calmly but with clipped words as she sauntered about his living room, "I still can't help but feel rather perturbed with you."

"Oh?" Snape asked in a dull manner.

"Why, exactly, did my granddaughter lie to her family and take off walking halfway across the country in search of her Potions teacher?" Madame Collins's green eyes flashed as brilliantly as Davindra's as she stood awaiting his answer.

"I suggest you ask your granddaughter, for I really can't say."

"I have done everything but pour Veritaserum down her throat, but she won't talk." The witch's temper was rising. She grabbed the edge of her pale purple cloak and swished it around her as she again began her dramatic march about the room. "I want to know exactly what is going on between you two."

"I have spoken to you repeatedly about your granddaughter's misguided affections," Snape said smoothly. "You surely don't have any delusion that I encouraged her to run away."

"Frankly, I don't know what to think, Severus. Abigail said that she came home from Hogwarts very depressed and anxious."

"A student was killed and the Dark Lord has returned," Snape stated. "I'd be suspicious if she wasn't depressed and anxious."

Madame Collins gave him a deep look and sat down on the edge of the couch. "So it's true about the Dark Lord. You're certain? Have you seen him?" Her eyes flashed with a searing chill.

"I've seen enough to be certain," he replied coolly.

The woman continued to eye him with interest. "Strangely, Lucius Malfoy has not been back to see me. When I attempted to learn his whereabouts after Davi disappeared, he was nowhere to be found. I was almost certain he was involved, but now I fear the worst for him."

Snape swirled the last of his coffee in the cup. "He is no doubt out serving the Dark Lord, I expect," he murmured.

"But what of you, Severus?" She cocked her head to one side, a mirthless smile touching her lips. "Are you in service of him also?"

Snape stared back. There was something swimming below the surface of Madame Collins's question that appeared menacing.

"Would you really entrust your beloved granddaughter to me if I were?" he tossed back coolly.

Her joyless smile widened. "I've told you that it mattered not to me which side you were on. But I do happen to know that the Dark Lord does not allow retirement from his ranks."

"And how is it that you know this?" He kept his black gaze just as icy as her demeanor.

"That's a fact anyone who pays attention would have picked up on by now." Still her smile remained as unsettling as any murderous look could be. "But my concern today is for my granddaughter, who came from your home furious and crying and unwilling to say anything but that she was fine and she didn't wish to talk about it. This wouldn't be a lover's tiff, now, would it, Severus?"

"Lovers?" Snape scoffed. "Hardly. If I were in the market for a lover, I think I could find one my own age who wouldn't cost me my job nor my sanity. Your granddaughter is troubled, emotional, and prone to fantasies. I'm not blaming her. She's been through a great deal in the past year. I'm sure the death at school brought back a lot of unpleasant memories for her. But her latching on to me is just another cry for help, a desire for a father-figure in her life again." Snape sat back feeling quite pleased with his off-the-cuff diagnosis.

"Perhaps some time spent with her grandfather?" he added. "Or St. Mungo's has some excellent Healers for this sort of depression."

Madame Collins rolled her eyes and snapped herself off the couch. "Davindra is not mentally unbalanced! And Clive Sparrow never had the time for his own wife and children, much less Davi. No, Severus, I find this all very suspicious."

"Frankly, I'd say you only have yourself to blame for this, Madame," he pushed on casually. "You've made her dependant upon me. Year after year you find a way to keep her reliant on my assistance and guidance as though her life depended on it. Is it any wonder she has developed this attachment?"

She turned to look at him darkly. "I have put trust in you, Snape! How do I know that it isn't you who has taken advantage of the situation? It's not that I could blame you really. I am aware of how mesmerizing she can be when she tries. A beautiful, devoted, young woman would be hard for most men to resist."

"I am not most men, Madame," Snape answered with narrowed eyes. "And I grow weary of this ridiculous discussion and revolting accusations."

He stood to escort Madame Collins to the door. "I have great admiration for your granddaughter's talent and a devout desire to see her successful and contented in all her endeavors. I have done everything that you have asked of me, and then some. Incorrect interpretation of my efforts is not my problem."

Snape stood at the open door looking down at Madame Collins. She looked back with her usual reserved smile and suspiciously cool eyes.

"Forgive my impertinence." There was an edge of mocking to her voice. "But you must understand my reason for concern. Davindra is very special to us; irreplaceable, in fact. I don't anticipate that her life will ever be easy. But I just wish to save her as much pain as possible, especially while she is still so young and impressionable. It would be prudent if you agreed."

"I agree whole-heartedly," Snape replied. "And if that is all you require, then we are through."

Madame Collins continued to stare him down, though her dim smile stayed painted in place. "Again, my gratitude, Severus, for your efforts. We'll speak soon, I'm sure."

"I am sure, as well," he uttered miserably and watched her walk from his door and Disapparate.