61- Progress

Standard Disclaimer goes here.

Author's Note: After all the HP goodness in July, as well as travel and PotO and all sorts of things to make it officially my Month of Squee, I am finally back to normal schedule-wise, and I am SO glad to get this chapter done and up. Muchos smooches to my uber-faboo beta, Ladyofthemasque, as always. And thank you so much to all you fine folk who have graciously taken the time to read my labour of love, and for those of you who have reviewed. You all make me so happy! As always, check out my LJ for update info: http://pern-dragon.livejournal.com/ Enjoy! :)

--Nicole aka Good_Witch

Chapter 61- Progress

The rest of the weekend, Dumbledore kept to himself at meals...when he showed up for them, that was. Snape ignored him to the best of his ability, which was quite thorough, particularly as Snape had things on his mind to occupy him. Eventually, Monday at lunch, Snape icily placed his cutlery on his plate and pushed back into his chair, taking a deep breath and turning marginally toward Dumbledore.

"Headmaster."

Dumbledore twitched in surprise at Snape addressing him, and from his other side, McGonagall flicked a curious glance at Snape before pretending to eat, eavesdropping all the while.

Dumbledore hesitated, his lips parting to respond, but he closed them again and cleared his throat before finally saying, "Yes?"

Snape focused on a spot on the table and said, "I would have spoken to you this morning, but you weren't at breakfast."

Dumbledore winced slightly, brow furrowing as he nodded. "What can I do for you?"

"I must leave the castle for a meeting this afternoon, and I don't know how long I'll be. We are to gain permission to leave the grounds during term." The disdainful inflection of the word "permission" curled Snape's lip, and his nostrils flared.

Dumbledore's brows rose, and he cast a wavering glance at Snape, who refused to meet his eyes. McGonagall had stilled, her attention zeroed in on their conversation. Dumbledore, looking uncomfortable, attempted a warm tone, but his uncertainty broke through.

"Of course. Whatever you need, my b...," Snape's jaw twitched, "...Severus. Can I... that is... is there... anything I can do to help?"

At that, Snape's eyes snapped to Dumbledore's, the outraged hurt blazing. His voice was a strangled hiss as he ground out, "Help? A bit late for that, isn't it, old friend?" He caught sight of McGonagall's sad expression past Dumbledore's pained one. By way of heaping coals of fire, he narrowed his eyes and said, "I'm meeting with my estate agent. With or without your help, I'll not be returning next year. I'm taking back Spinner's End, just like you always told me I should. Consider this my notice of resignation. I'll send you an official letter soon."

With that, he pushed back from the table, his chair scraping the stones. Dumbledore jerked back, staring incredulously at Snape. Behind him, McGonagall rubbed furiously at her ear, turning her face toward them with the pretence. Snape shot to his feet, but as he made to pass Dumbledore on his way out, Dumbledore gripped his wrist, making him stop short and glare down at him.

"Wait, Severus. Please. ... Won't you reconsider?"

McGonagall, who had been surreptitiously listening with an air of suppressed hope, sagged in defeat and shaded her eyes with her hand, leaning forward on the table.

Snape gazed stonily down at the old man who was peering winningly up at him. His voice was flat as he said, "I'll be leaving right after my last class. Don't expect me at dinner." Then, wrenching his arm free of Dumbledore's grasp, he abruptly Disapparated, leaving Dumbledore to wilt in his seat, turning back to sigh morosely over his meal.

McGonagall gazed at him in disappointment. "Really, Albus, you could have apologized. Until you do, there's absolutely no reason he would ever reconsider."

Dumbledore frowned, sinking into his seat as if the burden on his shoulders pressed him back. Passing a hand over his eyes, he exhaled wearily and said, "Enough, Minerva."

McGonagall's brows shot up, and she pursed her lips, pulling back with an offended air. In a withering tone, she added, "I shall cover for Severus in the event he is needed this evening." Crisply dabbing at her lips before dropping her napkin on the plate, she rose from the table to stalk off in high dudgeon.

***** ******

As soon as his last class of the day was over, Snape retreated to his quarters to change into the Muggle clothes he had worn to visit Hermione's parents. He would be meeting with Graham Moore and visiting Spinner's End, and he needed to fit in. He had just changed, and was gathering his things, when he heard a knock on his door. Scowling at the interruption, he stomped over and flung the door open, jerking back in surprise to once again see McGonagall on his threshold.

"Minerva?"

She raked him with an approving gaze and smiled primly. "I merely wanted to tell you that I would be happy to cover your duties this evening, should anything come up."

Snape blinked, at a loss for words. Then, as the warmth stole through him, reminding him that she was on his side, willing to be at odds with Dumbledore for his sake, he closed his eyes and inclined his head in gratitude before saying, "Thank you."

McGonagall preened a bit, even as she stepped out of his way to let him leave. With a half-smile, Snape shut his door and offered his arm to her. Eyes widening in pleased confusion, she tucked her hand in the crook of his elbow and regarded him quizzically. Snape shot a furtive glance down the corridor and flashed her a mischievous grin.

"Hold tight." With that warning, he Apparated them to the front doors, his grin turning into a smirk at the convulsive grip of her hand on his arm as she staggered a bit on arrival. She glared at him accusingly and swatted him with her free hand.

"Severus!" Snape cocked an eyebrow at her and she huffed. "There was no need for that."

Snape stepped back as she released his arm, and he bowed low, smirking up at her from between his curtains of dark hair. "Merely being efficient." He straightened, checking the papers in the inside pocket of his trench coat. With an amused snort, he drawled, "I'm late, for a very important date."

McGonagall goggled at him for an instant before bursting into laughter. Pointedly giving him a once-over, taking in the unrelenting black of his attire and hair, she eyed him severely over her spectacles and said, "You're hardly a white rabbit, Severus." They both chuckled, then McGonagall continued, "Good luck with your meeting. Spinner's End will be hooked up to the Floo Network April 3rd."

Snape nodded, once again saying, "Thank you." Then, with another nod, he slipped through the front doors and down the steps.

McGonagall watched him leave, and as soon as he was on the lawn, he looked about him and Disapparated. Straining her eyesight, she peered down the grounds, snorting when she saw the small black figure appearing by the gates. Once he had passed through them, he disappeared again, and McGonagall turned back to the castle with a faint smile and a sigh.

***** ********

Snape stood in the toilet of the modest office building, waiting to be sure that no one else was around before he Disapparated.

His meeting with Graham Moore had been cordial and satisfactory, and quite educational, and now he was preparing to see Spinner's End for the first time in ages. Unsure of how the area might have changed in his long absence, he cast a Disillusionment Charm over himself and concentrated on the upper bank of the dirty river near his home.

He arrived on the sparse brown grass, steadying himself on the incline as he looked around. Memories assailed him, and he remained still for a long moment, struggling to calm himself enough to trek up to the rows of houses. The black silhouette of the factory chimney stood out in the deepening twilight. Sucking in a deep breath, he crunched up the riverbank and wended his way through the familiar maze of houses to Spinner's End.

He noticed that the neighbourhood had improved since he had left, and many of the homes that had fallen into disrepair had been fixed and tidied. So, Moore's tales of "urban rehabilitation" were true. Here and there, clumps of children played in the street or on a doorstep, and cheerful lights glowed from windows framed in neat curtains.

As he neared his home, he slowed. Images of his parents emerging from the door or him hurrying inside to avoid the taunts of other children flashed through his mind. His imagination conjured the Dark Mark over the house, and a shudder washed over him. Closing his eyes and scowling, he swallowed, determined to finish what he had come for.

The curtains were open in the front windows, and he carefully trod over the grass to peek in, trying to make no noise. The interior was as different from his previous home as could be. His eyes widened and he stared mutely at the cozy scene before him.

The only recognizable things were the floors and walls, and even the latter had been papered in a pleasant pattern. The darker, utilitarian look of his memories was washed away by the warm colours and inviting atmosphere of the sitting room. Knick-knacks and plants filled shelves and corners, complementing the comfortable furniture and afghans that picked up the cheerful colours of the prints and photos on the walls.

Through the open doorway, he could see a plump woman with greying hair setting a table for dinner. Her bustling efficiency reminded him of Molly Weasley, and he half-expected to see a brood of children come running in for their meal. But, as he watched, the woman stepped out of sight, toward what he knew was the entry hall. A short moment later, she reappeared, and a correspondingly portly man with a comb-over appeared, sitting opposite her at the table for dinner. He pointed at a folded paper as they ate, and Snape decided that they were the only ones who lived there, as no one else had shown up, and there were no more place settings at the table.

Glancing around, he concentrated and Apparated into the back garden. Hastily stepping out of the expanded flowerbed he had landed in, he crept up to the back door and peeked in. The kitchen was deserted, and, through the doorway, he could see the end of the dining table where the couple sat. Looking up at the next level, he steeled himself and tried the back door. It wasn't locked, and he slowly opened it, eyes darting everywhere in search of witnesses.

As soon as there was room enough, he squeezed in, carefully shutting it. He could hear the couple talking, and he cast a nonverbal Silencing Charm on his boots, so he could sneak about unheard. Tiptoeing out of the kitchen into the corridor, he gazed about, drinking everything in as he listened to the couple's conversation.

"Hugh said he'd have more boxes for me soon. We need to get a move on packing." The man's voice carried out to Snape as he slunk along the wall.

"I know, I know. I just dread it. We've been here for so long, I almost felt as if we'd never leave." The woman's voice was wistful, and Snape dared to peek around the doorjamb at them.

"Well, I've looked at the moving services," and he jabbed again at the paper on the table, "and we need to decide if we're going to hire anyone or not. It'll be a lot of work moving everything out, and we're not as spry as we once were."

The woman stirred her tea absently and said, "I had hoped Robbie would be able to come help, but he can't get time off work. Such a shame that it's all in the middle of the week."

Snape saw a family portrait on the wall, showing a younger version of the couple, their hands resting on the shoulders of a smiling boy. Reassured that "Robbie" was not living here, he continued on to the stairs, hoping that the carpet that hadn't been there when he had lived there would muffle any creaks that the old boards might issue.

The conversation faded as he climbed the stairs, his pulse pounding harder with each step. Echoes of the shouts and wails of his parents fighting roared in his ears, punctuated by his heartbeat. He skulked through the corridor, peeking into the familiar-yet-not-really rooms as he went. Everywhere, the rooms were cheerful and cozy, inviting. Wide-eyed, he stared into them, trying to assimilate what he had known with what he saw before him. With each successive discovery of something pleasant to override his memories, he felt his stomach unclenching, and his jaw relaxed.

Still, when he came to the end of the corridor and looked up at the entrance to the attic, he swallowed hard and took a steadying breath. Without taking the trouble to pull the stairs down, he crouched low and Apparated into the attic room above him, right into the empty space he knew would be at the top of the stairs, lighting his wand.

This space was much like he remembered it. While the boxes and items stored up there were different from those his family had stored, the odour of dust and age once again filled his nostrils. Images flashed in his mind, bringing with them the feeling of hiding from his raging father, or the wistful loneliness of crouching near the vents to catch the thin beams of sunlight to read the old magic books his mother's parents had left her. He could still picture the folding cot he had spirited up there to lie on as he whiled away the torturously long school holidays, furtively practicing magic, praying that his mother would vouch for him should the Ministry claim he was breaking the Restriction for Underage Sorcery.

For several minutes, he stood there, seeing more in his mind's eye than what lay before him. Finally, he cast one last look about him and extinguished his wand, Apparating back to the floor below. Carefully trekking back down the stairs, he saw that the couple had finished their dinner, and they were sitting in the front room. The television was on, and the man was happily ensconced in his recliner, nodding at the telly as he dozed. On the couch, the woman was humming to herself as she crocheted another afghan.

Snape stood in the doorway, watching, and a pang of remorse struck him that he was going to uproot these people...people who had all but completely transformed the home of his childhood into something charming. A tiny voice in his head, which sounded suspiciously like Hermione, prodded him to at least introduce himself to the people who had been so kind to his property, taking such good care of it for so long.

At that thought, he scowled, but he found himself Disapparating onto the front step anyway. It was dark, and the street was deserted in favour of families spending the evening sharing dinner or children doing schoolwork. With a toss of his head, he smoothed his hair, tugged at the turtleneck jumper, and resettled the trench coat over his shoulders. Then, he reversed the Disillusionment Charm and knocked on the door.

Inside, the man woke with a start and exchanged a puzzled glance with the woman. Grunting, he heaved out of his chair and went to open the door.

Gazing blankly at Snape, the man inquired, "May I help you?

Snape regarded him soberly, clearing his throat before saying, "I do apologize for disturbing you, but I wished to introduce myself. I am Severus Snape, the owner of this property."

As he spoke, the woman appeared at the doorway to the sitting room, and she let out a crow of recognition. Her husband turned to look at her, puzzled.

She strode forward, smiling in welcome, and said, "Mr. Snape! How nice to meet you after all these years. I wondered about you quite often, seeing as we always met with Mr. Moore about the house." She extended her hand, reaching past her husband, and Snape quickly clasped her hand, feeling awkward.

Turning back to Snape, the man offered his hand as well, and when Snape gripped it, he shook it heartily, breaking into a welcoming smile. "What a surprise, I must say. Come in, please." He stepped back, gesturing for Snape to enter.

Hoping he wasn't flushing guiltily, since he had already entered their home, Snape inclined his head in thanks and crossed the threshold. They ushered him into the sitting room, and the woman fluttered over him.

"Shall I take your coat for you? Why don't you make yourself at home? Here, sit here, dear. Make yourself comfortable. Would you like some tea? Biscuits? You must take some refreshment..."

Snape tried to decline as politely as he could, but then the man jumped in with a counter offer.

"How about some scotch? Warm your blood after the night air. You sure we can't take your coat for you?"

Snape wrapped his trench coat about him even tighter and sat on the couch with a desperate air, protesting all the while.

"Madam, Sir, really, I am quite comfortable. Thank you. You needn't fuss over me." He perched on the edge of the seat stiffly, his posture ramrod straight.

Clucking at him as if to chide him, the woman shook her head and sank onto the couch by Snape. "Oh, I'm so sorry, please allow me to introduce myself. I'm Lucy. This is my husband, Edward." She gestured to the man who had seated himself in the armchair again. Then, she waved her hand at Snape and said, "And you're Severus Snape. Oh, but it's good to finally meet you. You know, dear," and she leant forward and pressed a hand against his forearm, "I've heard all about you from the older families in the neighbourhood."

Snape's eyes widened even as his brows drew together in a frown. The woman saw his expression change and hastened to add, "Oh, no, nothing bad, indeed. We were just curious about who owned the house, since you didn't live here and we hadn't ever met you. Gladys told me about the tragic deaths of the previous owners. I'm so sorry for your loss, dear." She pressed his arm again, her expression sympathetic.

Snape gazed stonily at her, his chest tight. Before the silence stretched on too long, the man spoke up. "We must say, Mr. Snape, we've quite enjoyed this house. We'll be sorry to leave it."

Snape tore his gaze away from the mournful eyes of the woman, mentally shaking himself to regain his composure, as the sincere sympathy extended to him from a complete stranger baffled him. He focused on the man, and said, "That's what I wanted to talk about. I wished to extend my gratitude for the obvious care you have expended on this house. It is in better condition than the last time I left it. I appreciate how well you've taken care of... my home." He gravely inclined his head in thanks.

Both Edward and Lucy beamed at him, and Edward smacked the arm of his chair and said, "Glad to do it! This house has been good to us, so it's only fair that we were good to it."

Snape forced a wan smile, attempting to respond to the couple's hearty cheerfulness. He started when Lucy bounced up and bustled into the kitchen, and Edward watched her go, leaning forward and saying, with a wink, "She's gone to get something to nosh, if I know her."

Snape opened his mouth to protest again, but Edward waved his hand and shook his head vehemently. "No use, lad. She loves her company, Lucy does. Better just to humour her. Besides, her baking is quite good!"

Blinking, Snape shut his mouth again, staring blankly at the door to the kitchen, through which Lucy presently appeared, bearing a tray of cake, biscuits, and cups for tea. "I put the kettle back on, and it shouldn't be but a minute. You simply must try my baking, Mr. Snape; I'm rather proud of my recipes." She smiled at him and he raised his brows in acknowledgement.

In an attempt to regain some control of the situation, he spoke up. "Madam, Sir, please call me Severus."

Lucy pressed her hand to her throat and sat up straight. "Oh merciful heavens, that just doesn't seem right, what with you being the landlord, as it were."

Snape snorted derisively, and the couple blinked at him in surprise. "I have hardly been a landlord, Madam. I am merely the owner of the property, having inherited it. Mr. Moore was the landlord, for which I am grateful, as I haven't the patience for such things."

There was a moment of strained silence, broken by the whistle of the kettle. Lucy jumped up to get it, and Edward said, "Mr. Moore is a fine fellow, he is. He's been helping us find another place."

Snape nodded gravely and said, "Indeed, he is a good man. I am indebted to him for his skills."

Lucy returned, apparently having regained her equilibrium with the domestic chore of making tea, and she smiled again as she poured their cups. "So, Mr....Severus...if it's not too impertinent to ask, what makes you want this house again after all this time?" She handed him a cup, and he stifled the urge to ask for honey and lemon.

The fleeting thought of their tonic, coupled with Lucy's question about his reason to come home, made his lips quirk in a faint smile, and he gazed into the tea as he quietly said, "Not impertinent at all... I am retiring from my current job, and I need to build a place for myself and..." he paused for a moment, picking his words, "...for the woman I love." At that, he looked up to see an indulgent look pass between the couple.

Lucy beamed fondly at him and pressed his arm again, saying, "How wonderful! Why, if there ever was a reason for us to have to move, that's certainly the best one! We do hope you'll be happy here, just as we have been."

Snape found it easier to return the woman's smile this time, and he retorted, "I hope so, too." He sipped his tea and gazed about the room again. "It's definitely a happier place now than it was last I was here."

Lucy made a moue of sympathy again and proffered the plate of cake. "I can imagine, dear. Try a bit of cake."

Snape suppressed a smirk at the persistent belief that women apparently had that tea and snacks fixed everything and took a slice, nibbling a corner and following it with a sip of tea. Inclining his head graciously, he said, "Thank you, Lucy. Quite lovely, indeed."

The couple beamed at him, the woman flushing with pleasure at the compliment, and silence fell. Edward cast a quick glance at the telly, and Snape caught the movement. Taking a polite bite and sip, he decidedly set the teacup down on the tray and brushed imaginary crumbs from his lap.

"I apologize for interrupting your evening, and once again, thank you for your hospitality. I must return to my duties." He stood, waving repressively at the man as he made to rise, but too slow to impede the woman's instant jump to her feet. "Don't get up! I do know where the door is, after all." He smirked and made a little bow. Smoothly stepping past the woman, he paused and said, "I do hope your new home will bring you as much pleasure as this one has. I can't thank you enough for all you've done for me... and for my home."

With another nod, he spun and strode to the front door, the woman in his wake. She held the door open after he exited and called after him, "It was lovely to meet you, Severus, and best wishes to you and your lady!" Snape raised a hand in acknowledgement as he walked, and a beat later, the door closed, leaving him alone on the street.

Furtively glancing about, he made for the shadows along the side of the house at the end of the street, where he cast a Disillusionment Charm over himself again before Apparating back to the clearing beyond the Hogwarts gates. Ending the charm, he entered the grounds and began his trek back to the school, preferring the walk as it gave him a chance to mull over the changes he had seen in his old neighbourhood and home.

A part of him was surprised that he had not only introduced himself to the couple, but he had admitted his plan for him and Hermione. But, he realized that the couple's easy charm and grace reminded him of how he had been welcomed by Hermione's parents, and he had wanted to stake his claim to someone, as it made it all more real. Now, if only the eventual revelation of his plans to Hermione's parents went as well, he would definitely be living a new, charmed life.

****** *********

Tuesday evening, Snape collected Hermione and took them to his quarters. Upon arrival, he gave her a quick squeeze and kiss and said, "Quickly... I have something important to tell you." Stepping back and tilting his head toward the bathroom, he eyed her with pent-up excitement.

Hermione's brows rose and she nodded, hastening to the bathroom for the hair products. When she took her place behind him at his chair, she said, "What's going on, Severus?"

Snape took a deep breath and licked his lips as she began brushing his hair. "I did it, Hermione. I've been to Spinner's End."

Hermione gasped and dropped the brush, rushing around to clasp his hands in his lap as she perched on the edge of the ottoman, gazing intently at him. "What? When? Are you all right?" She anxiously rubbed her thumbs over his knuckles as she gripped them.

Snape smiled fondly, his love for her welling up and tightening his chest. He twisted his hands around to squeeze hers in return and said, "Yesterday. I'm fine, love. Truly." She exhaled in relief and his smile widened. "Now, why don't you finish your task and I'll tell you about it?" He raised his eyebrows in mock-reprimand and she rolled her eyes. As she shot up from the ottoman, grimacing at him in pique, he snorted.

When she had picked up the brush and returned her attention to his hair, he continued. "I had a meeting with the estate agent, and then I paid a visit to Spinner's End. I was quite surprised to see that the entire neighbourhood had improved since I had left, and my house was no exception. The back garden had been expanded, and the house itself was in good repair...better than I left it. The couple who lived there had put down carpet and papered the walls, and it hardly looked like the same place! They were quite kind...although I was none too pleased to find out that neighbourhood gossips had been talking about me."

Hermione interrupted him, pausing in her ministrations. "What on earth could they have said? You haven't been there in forever!"

Snape voiced a grunt of agreement. "Indeed. Turns out that they had heard the tale of my parents' deaths and that I, the subsequent owner, hadn't been seen since. Apparently, I was the subject of much curiosity for the current tenants."

Hermione began slicking the pomade and huffed. "It's none of their business. Honestly! How rude..."

Snape smirked at her offended tone and waved a dismissive hand. "It's human nature, love. At any rate, Lucy didn't strike me as the malicious busybody type. Like I said, they were quite kind."

"Lucy?"

"Lucy and Edward, the couple who live there. They have a son, Robbie, although he has moved out."

Hermione paused again and leant around Snape's shoulder, eyeing him oddly. "Severus, how do you know all this? What do you mean they were kind?"

Snape smirked again at her suspicious air and said, "I introduced myself to them and they invited me in. I wanted to thank them for how well they had taken care of my home." Hermione's eye widened in astonishment, and her jaw fell. Snape added, "Lucy wondered about me, and she seemed quite sincere in her sympathy for my loss...and in her good wishes for my future with the woman I love."

Snape thought perhaps Hermione's eyes might fall out of her head, since they were widening even more now. She dazedly sidled around him to drop onto the ottoman again, staring at him.

Her voice was almost a whisper as she said, "You told her about me?"

Snape suppressed a grin and murmured, "She asked why I wanted the house after so long. I told them I was retiring from my current job and needed to build a place for us."

Tears welled up in Hermione's eyes and her lower lip trembled as she gazed at Snape in adoration. Snape slid forward, his knees framing hers between his chair and the ottoman, and he lifted a hand to mould against her cheek. His eyes locked with hers and he leant closer to murmur, "I do hope I'm not being too presumptuous."

Hermione sucked in a breath and shook her head. She breathed, "Never," before closing the gap and kissing him soundly.

**** *****

Snape and Hermione Apparated to the Hall for dress rehearsal, consciously adjusting both appearances and demeanours after their tender intimacy in the dungeons. While everyone prepared their costumes and props on the set, Snape proffered the repaired chain for Hermione to wear in the second act.

"Miss Granger, this should snap much more easily, and not hurt you in the process. Put it on so we may test it."

Hermione clasped the chain around her neck and faced Snape, who flicked a frowning glance at the assembled cast before reaching forward and tugging the chain from her bosom, nodding as it broke easily without leaving a welt on her skin.

Hermione inclined her head in gratitude and said, "Much better, sir. I barely felt a thing. Thank you."

Snape nodded again, casting a muttered Reparo at the chain before handing it back to her. As he turned away from her, he spotted Harry a few paces away with Ginny, and he called, "Mr. Potter!"

Harry spun in surprise. "Sir?"

Snape gestured toward Hermione as Harry approached. "Miss Granger's chain has been adjusted to break away easily. Therefore, you must be careful in your interactions during the Masquerade to not break it prematurely."

Harry glanced at Hermione, who was holding the chain up for him, and nodded understanding. "Right. I'll be careful." He watched Snape start to turn away and said to Hermione, his voice wry, "Brings new meaning to Professor Snape saving our necks, eh?"

Snape stopped, taken aback by Harry's play on words, and looked over his shoulder to see Ginny, hand clamped over her mouth to stifle her giggles as her dancing eyes darted between all of them. Hermione and Harry were both grinning, and Snape allowed a small smirk to surface as he twisted and drawled, "Indeed."

Snape's smirk widened at Harry's astonished expression that Snape would joke back. Leaving the trio to stare after him in varying stages of amusement and surprise, Snape swept away.

The rehearsal went on, with various moments feeling somewhat flat and almost rushed. During the intermission, Dumbledore frowned vaguely at the cast, wondering what indefinable element was missing or wrong. Hoping that the second act would be better, he didn't say anything as everyone regrouped in preparation for the Masquerade.

The Masquerade wasn't as smooth as the previous rehearsal, but at least Hermione wasn't hurt by the snapping chain. Eventually, as the second act came to a close, Dumbledore simply stood in the house, gazing up at the stage with a troubled look. Cast members slowly edged out from the wings to huddle in solemn groups as they watched Dumbledore frowning up at them.

Snape Apparated back onto the stage near the proscenium, glancing between the wary cast and their director. He, too, felt the curious apprehension at the night's performance. While he and Hermione had performed as usual, and up to their normal standards, the rest of the cast overall hadn't measured up to previous levels. He knew that was what had Dumbledore so worried.

After a long, heavy pause, Dumbledore waved his hand and uttered a flat, "Sit." Students dropped where they were, exchanging anxious glances, and the professors remained standing.

"I am dreadfully disappointed." There was a susurrus of squirming in response to Dumbledore's quiet statement. Suddenly, several students couldn't meet his eyes. After another pregnant pause, he said, "What happened?"

More squirming, complete with furtive guilty looks, followed his question. Snape saw his Slytherins casting knowing glances at each other, tilting their heads and sighing. Striding closer to the group, he said, "The headmaster has asked a question. Mr. Malfoy, perhaps you have an answer?"

Draco and Pansy gave a guilty start, and Draco scowled before grudgingly saying, "We're just tired." At Snape's warning glare, he tacked on, "Sir."

Pansy gave an apologetic shrug, and was taken aback to see others nodding throughout the group. Ron's ears were turning a spectacular shade of pink, but he spoke up in response to Susan's prodding elbow.

"Malfoy's right, Professor. We've been at this a long time, and it's just kind of wearing, you know? I mean," and he glanced at the encouraging faces around him, from others who were glad to let him be the spokesperson, "we've been rehearsing for months now, and it's not always on a weekend night, and..." He stopped, clearly struggling for the best words. Then, shoulders slumping in defeat, he grimaced and said, "Well, sir, it's just got kind of boring now."

At that, those who had been looking to Ron to state their case gasped, their eyes bulging. He looked around hastily again and lamely tried to make amends. "Not boring exactly, just...we've finally done all there is to do, and we've seen how amazing it's all going to be, and now there's nothing left to look forward to. And the time requirements and the stress...we're just kind of worn out, sir."

All eyes were trained on Dumbledore, waiting for his reaction to Ron's summation. Finally, Dumbledore seemed to relax, and his disappointed gaze softened to one of acceptance.

"Of course. I should have expected this. Of course you're all tired. But, we'll be done in less than three weeks." He looked at them in appeal. "We've only three more rehearsals before the performances. And that last one will be the school performance, so we really only have two more of just us. I know it's been long and gruelling, but we're almost there, and if you can bring yourself to perform as I've already seen you do, then we can win that trophy!" His eyes sparkled again and he smiled at them. "Don't give up now. We've got something amazing here, among all of you, and I know you can keep up the good work for just a little bit longer, until Hogwarts wins the competition."

Relieved, the cast seemed to take a brace and sit up straighter. Dumbledore's acknowledgement of not only their hard work but the fact that they quite rightfully felt worn out, followed by his pep talk, was enough to make them feel appreciated and give them new heart. Resolving to do better next time, they nodded gratefully at the headmaster as they stood.

Beaming fondly at the cast, Dumbledore clasped his hands over his belly and said, "Run along now. I know it's a weeknight. Get to bed, all of you, and come back refreshed and rested for Friday's rehearsal."

As they trekked out of the Hall, several students clapped Ron on the back or mumbled their thanks for handling the prickly subject with Dumbledore, glossing over the fact that he had very nearly offended the headmaster.

Snape watched the students leaving and glanced at Dumbledore, wondering if he would try to change Snape's mind again. But the headmaster avoided catching Snape's eye, and Snape Disapparated to his quarters.

**** *******

Friday evening before rehearsal, while Hermione was fixing his hair, Snape told her about his search for contractors to work on Spinner's End.

"I really have nothing to go on except the fact that they are listed in the businesses section of the Prophet's Supplemental." He sighed, feeling out of his depth. "And I don't know enough about how much things cost to know whether or not they're quoting me something reasonable or if they're going to try to take advantage of me."

Hermione let out a rather unladylike snort. Snape twisted to eye her in surprise.

"Severus, really, you may not be versed in particulars, but can you honestly tell me you're afraid someone will try to take advantage of you?" Snape scowled at her and she laughed. "See? That's exactly what I mean! Even people who may not know you and your reputation will definitely respond to your intimidation tactics. You're not quite a wilting flower, you know."

Snape's lips thinned even more and he shrugged forward again with a huff. "You're not helping, Hermione."

Caressing his shoulder, she said, "I'm sorry, love, but I do think you're worrying too much. Besides, why don't you ask Professor McGonagall for assistance? She said she'd help you."

Snape twitched. "I know. I know. I just don't like to have to do that. I've been on my own for so long now..."

Hermione leant forward and wrapped her arms around him, murmuring in his ear, "But you're not alone anymore. You've got me, and you've got friends who want to help you. Learn to deal with it, dearest." Planting a kiss on his cheek, she went back to her task.

Determined to wallow in his inadequacies, Snape said, "Well, I haven't found anything for a job yet either. There's nothing in my field right now."

Hermione sighed and retorted, "Severus, stop it. You'll find something. Term's not even over for another few months anyway. You needn't stress so much about it. Everything will work out, I promise."

A noncommittal grunt was all she got for a response. Knowing when to leave things be, she refrained from further comment.

**** ****

The dress rehearsal that night regained its previous energy, thanks to the combined effect of Dumbledore's pep talk Tuesday night and the fact that it was Friday again, with no classes to get up early for the next morning. The relief at the cast's return to quality was nearly palpable in everyone, but particularly in Dumbledore. Thus it was that he beamed at everyone as they took seats in the house after the end of the second act, curiosity piqued at his unusual direction that they remain instead of immediately heading to their dormitories.

"Well done, once again, everyone! I'm so pleased to see you all back on your game. Next Friday, you'll be performing for the school and for any family that may wish to come to the show. Now, that's what I wanted to speak to you about. For those of you whose families will not be able to come for the performance next week, I need to know where to send the mirrors so that they may watch it. And, if you know already that your loved ones may need a mirror to see the performance for the Ministry in two weeks, let me know now and I can make sure arrangements are made." He fished out a roll of parchment and a quill and laid it on the apron of the stage, gesturing for students to come up and fill out their information.

There was a rustle as several students moved up to the stage, and low conversations buzzed in the meantime. Harry craned his neck toward Hermione and said, "Are your folks coming next week?"

With an indulgent smile, Hermione said, "Actually, when I owled them to ask about all this, they stated quite vehemently that they plan to make it to both showings. I've already given Professor McGonagall my address to hook up the Floo."

Harry grinned and nodded before turning back to Ginny as she returned to her seat, having listed Charlie's address on the parchment.

When everyone had listed their information, Dumbledore faced them again and said, "Tuesday evening is our last dress rehearsal before the performance for the school and your families. Let's make it count." He winked at them, chuckling.

"Oh, and I may as well tell you now, as I'll be posting a notice for the school tomorrow: Afternoon classes will be cancelled Friday, so we may have an early dinner before preparing for the performance. But, since your families may be coming to the show, we will have a slightly different set-up in the Hall for dinner. Your families shall arrive that afternoon, and we'll have many small tables so you'll be able to sit with your families instead of having to spread out along the House tables. We'll also be outfitting one of the nearby classrooms as a lounge for them to use after dinner while we're setting up and getting ready in here."

All eyes were trained on him, absorbing the plans, and he snapped his fingers as he remembered one more thing. "Before I forget again, your families will receive post about what time they may Floo here. They'll be arriving in Professor McGonagall's office...yet another reason to cancel classes. Now, while the Floo is not as time sensitive as a Portkey, it can get a bit cramped if everyone tries to arrive at once. So, if you'd please stress to your families that keeping to the time schedule is quite important and very appreciated, I would be grateful."

With that, he bowed toward the group, then said, "Thank you all for your hard work. Time to run along to bed. Good night!"

Snape slunk away from the throng making its way up the aisle, flicking a glance at McGonagall where she still stood near the stage. She was rolling up the parchment while Dumbledore began restoring the Hall to its normal state. Snape strode up the aisle and leant against the wall by the doors, arms crossed, to wait for McGonagall.

He noticed that McGonagall was not ignoring Dumbledore as she had before, but he could still hear a note of the frosty attitude when she spoke. What surprised Snape was the almost weary tone of Dumbledore's voice when he spoke to her, and the fact that he looked rather melancholy now that the students were gone. Frowning, eyes narrowed as he stared at the older man's altered state, Snape wondered if perhaps Dumbledore was coming to realize just how badly he had hurt him with his high-handed tactics.

McGonagall tucked the parchment in her robes and made as if to assist Dumbledore with the transformations, but he waved her off, insisting that he could finish up and that she should go on. McGonagall raised her eyebrows but held her tongue, merely nodding before she turned up the aisle. After taking a few steps, she paused and looked over her shoulder at Dumbledore, who was working with a marked absence of his usual vigour. Her shoulders sagging a fraction as she sighed, she relented enough to call a polite, "Good night" through the house. Without facing her, Dumbledore said the same, and McGonagall shook her head as she turned to continue up the aisle.

At the back of the house, Snape waited, watching their interaction. When McGonagall reached the back row, he stepped forward and murmured, "Minerva."

McGonagall blinked up at him, starting in surprise. Casting a furtive glance over her shoulder, she kept going, urging Snape to exit with her. He quickly followed, and when they were out in the corridor, McGonagall looked up and paused, saying, "Is everything all right, Severus?"

Snape nodded solemnly, then tilted his head down the corridor, indicating that they should walk. As they strolled down the corridor to the stairways, Snape inhaled deeply and swallowed, clearly steeling himself to speak. Trying to look encouraging, McGonagall simply waited.

Finally, Snape spoke, his voice low. "You said that you were on my side..."

McGonagall nodded decidedly. "I am. Now what's on your mind?"

Cutting a sheepish glance at her, Snape paused, looking uncomfortable. "You know that I've reclaimed Spinner's End." She nodded again in encouragement. "I need to have work done on it to outfit it for my needs, but I don't know of anyone in particular with whom to contract for the work necessary. I know you've much more experience outside this school..." He met her eyes, his eloquent with appeal. "Might you have any recommendations on contractors? I would... appreciate your expertise."

McGonagall stood ramrod straight and beamed at him. "Nothing would please me more than to help you get your affairs in order to move on with your life, Severus. I can certainly give you some recommendations. Just let me make some inquiries myself, and I'll get back to you soon."

Snape exhaled heavily and inclined his head. "Thank you."

McGonagall gripped his forearm warmly, smiling at him fondly. "That wasn't so hard, was it? You needn't make such an event of asking for a favour or assistance, Severus. That's what friends are for, you know."

Before he could respond, they heard a noise down the corridor and turned to see Dumbledore closing the doors to the Great Hall. He saw them at the stairs and paused. They stared at each other for a moment, before Snape responded to McGonagall's prod.

His face stony, still gazing at Dumbledore, Snape murmured, "I thought I knew..."

At his remark, McGonagall looked back at Snape and felt a surge of sympathy. She squeezed his arm again, drawing his attention to her. He whipped his head around to face her again, and she grimaced. In a whisper, she said, "Everyone makes mistakes."

She would have gone on, but the black look he directed at her stopped her in her tracks. Coughing slightly, cheeks colouring awkwardly, she released him.

Snape stiffened and shook his head, his expression one of fleeting frustration when his hair didn't cloak his face as usual. "Good night, Minerva."

McGonagall nodded. "Good night, Severus." She watched him sadly as he stepped past her to descend the stairs to the dungeon. Glancing back down the corridor, she saw that Dumbledore was still standing at the doors to the Great Hall, gazing at Snape's retreating form. Shaking her head, she began the climb to her quarters, hoping that the two men would somehow manage to mend the breach in their friendship before it became irreparable.