Chapter 9

Disclaimer: All characters and settings of Potterverse are the property of J.K. Rowling and other sundry entities. Only the plot belongs to me. I am making no money. I play in this universe for the sheer joy of it. My only payment is the kind reviews and comments of those who read and enjoy my tale. This story is canon-compliant through HBP. DH has, for the most part, been happily disregarded, especially that sappy epilogue!

Special thanks go to my beta reader, JuJuJenn. She makes sure I stay focused.

Nine

Although Snape knew that his master was waiting, he took a moment outside Grimmauld Place to compose his thoughts before he Apparated away.

In spite of his dour looks and acerbic attitude, Snape had been the object of his share of student crushes over the years. It was something every teacher had to learn to deal with. It usually only took a few humiliating comments about the girl's (or, occasionally, boy's) lack of intellect, maturity, and desirability to turn even the most ardent student's infatuation into smouldering hatred, which was much easier to deal with. Yes, he understood that students sometimes fancied themselves in love, or at least in lust.

What he could not understand was his own reaction. Never, in all the years he had taught, had he ever felt the slightest bit of sexual interest in any of his students.

Technically, Granger was no longer his student. She was not currently enrolled in Hogwarts, and even if she were, he was no longer on staff there. This rationalisation did nothing to lessen the scorching shame of knowing he had nearly kissed her – would have kissed her if the burn of his Mark hadn't interrupted them.

He would just have to deal with her as he'd dealt with the others. Yes, he decided. He would convince her that she was a stupid, ugly child not worthy of his notice.

Satisfied with the decision he'd reached, Snape pushed all thoughts of Hermione Granger back into a deep, well-protected corner of his mind along with everything else he didn't want the Dark Lord to see.

He touched his wand to his left forearm, which had begun to burn again, and disappeared.

"Crucio!"

Snape felt the curse hit him almost before he fully arrived at his destination. He fell to the floor and writhed in agony, struggling to draw a deep breath.

When the curse was lifted, he was sweating and shaking.

"When you were teaching, I knew there were times when you could not immediately answer my summonses," Voldemort said. His tone was quiet and controlled with no hint of anger. "Now that you no longer bear that burden, I expect you to come immediately when I call you."

"Yes, my lord." Snape spoke in a ragged whisper.

"And now I expect a proper greeting," Voldemort said as he seated himself on the throne-like chair that sat on a raised dais.

Snape got to his feet as quickly as he could manage and made his way to the foot of the Voldemort's chair. He dropped to one knee and kissed the hem of his master's robe.

"Now, what news do you have for me, Severus," Voldemort hissed as Snape completed his obeisance.

"The filthy werewolf showed up at Order headquarters this morning," Snape said. "He was badly injured."

When he felt Riddle probing his thoughts, he brought the picture of Lupin – not breathing, heart not beating – to the forefront of his mind.

"He's dead, my lord. He collapsed when he arrived and never regained consciousness. Potter and his friends tried to help him, but it was too late."

"Crucio!" Voldemort shouted, and Snape fell to the floor again, twisting in agony.

"What did he tell them?"

"N ... nothing ... my lord," Snape gasped out when the pain eased enough for him to speak.

Voldemort stood and raised his wand again, and Snape braced himself for the next onslaught.

When the spell was lifted this time, Snape immediately felt Riddle enter his mind again. He'd been expecting it, of course, after the additional bout of the Cruciatus. His master believed that no one could resist his intrusions after such a relentless assault. He was usually right, but Snape's mind was powerful – and prepared. He directed Riddle's thoughts exactly where he wanted them to go. All Riddle saw were the remnants of Snape's pain, and the shocked look on Potter's face when he realised that another of his mentors was dead.

"Oh, the poor, dear boy," Voldemort said in a mocking tone. "Such suffering!" He resumed his seat. He said nothing about Snape's suffering.

"When you've recovered sufficiently, Severus, we must talk about the implications of last night's events," he said as he smoothed his robes.

Snape pulled himself to his knees and drew several deep breaths. He half-crawled, half-dragged himself to the foot of the chair where his master sat. Voldemort was holding his wand in one hand and tapping it lightly against the open palm of his other hand, as though counting out the seconds it took for Snape to make his way to his side.

"Feeling better?" Voldemort asked solicitously, as though he had no idea why Snape was unwell.

"Yes, thank you, my lord," Snape replied as he licked his dry lips. He forced himself to stand on shaky legs.

"We lost two valuable tools today," Voldemort said. "As you know, we often used your old friend to feed false information to our enemies."

"He was no friend of mine," Snape replied, "but he was occasionally useful."

"Oh, yes. He thought he was so clever – skulking around Greyback's tent and passing on the trivial and useless bits of 'intelligence' we needed to get to the other side. It's a wonder that no one ever noticed how utterly worthless he was."

"Dumbledore had a strange fondness for the beast," Snape said. "McGonagall had a similar affection for him. And, of course, Potter very nearly idolised him. He wouldn't hear a harsh word against him." Snape was careful to use the past tense as he spoke.

"Potter's foolish sentimentality works to our advantage," Voldemort stated.

"Of course, my lord; it colours his judgement. He hesitates to do what is necessary because he wants to do what is right." Snape said scornfully.

"A common failing of those who are weak. I am not weak."

"No, my lord."

"Still, it is unfortunate that he overheard something he wasn't supposed to hear."

Snape said nothing, waiting for his master to continue.

"Greyback made a terrible error. He didn't merely speak of something he was told to keep silent about, he actually boasted of it to a known member of the Order of the Phoenix. He intended to kill Lupin, of course, and had he done so, I might not have learned of his mistake. Once the werewolf escaped, however, he had no choice but to come to me, explaining what had happened and promising that it would never happen again.

"I assured him that I knew it would never happen again."

Snape didn't need to ask what form that assurance had taken. There was no way Greyback could have made such a huge blunder and lived to tell about it.

"It is only by the greatest good fortune that Lupin died before he could reveal what he had learned to my enemies. Still, I can take no chances. I will have to act.

"I will be calling you later this evening to assist me in a small endeavour. I trust I don't have to remind you to respond with alacrity?"

"No, my lord."

"I thought not." He paused a moment before he spoke again.

"So, Severus, now that we have all the unpleasantness taken care of perhaps we can indulge in some more ... satisfying ... activity."

His reddish eyes gleamed even brighter, and he rubbed his hand across the front of his robes suggestively.

Snape couldn't prevent the slight shudder of revulsion that moved through his body.

Voldemort merely smiled his terrible smile and pointed to the floor in front of him.

"Your servant, my lord," Snape said and dropped to his knees.

When Snape returned to Grimmauld Place, he was in a foul mood. He entered through the kitchen door and inwardly groaned when he saw Molly bustling about.

"Oh, Severus, isn't it terrible?" Molly cried out as she clutched his arm.

"Not now," he growled as he shook her hand off. "I need the loo."

"I think Harry just went up there."

Snape moved through the kitchen and up the stairs. He stood outside the closed door of the second floor bathroom and pounded on it, none too gently.

"Out, Potter!" he shouted.

"I'll be out in a minute." Harry's voice was muffled by the thick wooden door.

"If you don't open this door in three seconds, I'll hex it right off its hinges!

"One!

"Two!

The door flew open and Harry stood there, still fastening the buttons on his jeans.

"Bloody hell, Snape!"

"Fuck," Snape groaned. He made a lurch toward the basin, but didn't reach it in time. Instead, he vomited over the floor, the hem of his travelling cloak, and even Harry's trainers.

It took Harry a moment to react, but then he moved quickly. He reached over and closed the lid on the commode, and then he put his hand under Snape's arms and half-lifted, half-dragged him into a sitting position on the toilet. He filled the bathroom glass with water and handed it to Snape, and then he used his wand to clean up the mess.

Snape rinsed his mouth with the clean, cold water and then spit into the basin.

"Are you all right? I can get Mrs. Weasley or Hermione."

"I'm here." Hermione spoke from the doorway.

"Go away, Granger," Snape said through gritted teeth.

"He's sick," Harry said. "He just tossed everywhere."

"I'll get you something to ease the nausea," Hermione said.

"I don't need anything," Snape snapped.

It might have been more convincing if he wasn't shaking and clutching his stomach as he spoke.

"I'll be right back."

She was gone before Snape could protest again.

Less than five minutes later, she was holding out a small vial filled with a thick, pink liquid.

"Drink this," she said.

Snape wanted to refuse, but he could still feel his stomach roiling.

He took the vial from her hand and swallowed the contents. He could feel the effects of the potion immediately as the cramping and nausea eased.

"Better?" she asked as she took the empty vial from his hand.

Snape ignored her question and turned toward Harry.

"Lupin? Is he ..."

"He's been awake a few times," Harry said.

"Not really aware," Hermione interjected. "He's been mumbling and thrashing around a bit. He's been able to take a few sips of water, though.

"I have the other potions ready for him."

"Were you able to talk to Minerva and the others?" Snape asked Harry as he slowly got to his feet, still ignoring Hermione.

Harry nodded. "Professor McGonagall, Kingsley, and Mr. Weasley managed to get here to see him for a minute. Hermione told them what you said about it being safer for him if people thought he was dead. They agreed. As soon as they left, they started spreading the word."

"I informed the Dark Lord of Lupin's death, as well."

"Did he believe you?" Harry asked.

"Once he verified the information, he believed me," Snape replied.

Hermione bit her lip and swallowed hard. She knew how Voldemort verified things.

"Are you all right?" Harry asked.

"Better than Lupin," Snape replied. "We'd best tend to him, though, before his rumoured demise becomes reality.

"Potter, go ask Molly to come upstairs and help me give Lupin his potions."

"I'll do it," Hermione said. "Molly's in the middle of making lunch."

At the mention of lunch, Snape felt his stomach give another lurch. He clamped his mouth closed and swallowed, willing the sickness away.

"Do you need another dose of the anti-nausea potion?" Hermione asked with a worried frown.

Snape just shook his head. He brushed past Hermione and Harry and moved out into the hallway, heading toward Remus's room.

"What did you do to piss him off?" Harry asked Hermione. "You're the one he usually treats the nicest – nice for him, anyway."

Hermione hoped he couldn't see her slight flush in the dim light of the hallway.

"Maybe he was just embarrassed to be sick in front of us."

"He was fine with me for a change. It's you he was being a git towards."

Hermione just shook her head. "You know how he is – especially when he comes back from one of his meetings with ..."

"Yeah, I know."

"I'd better get in there before he gets even more pissed off," she said.

"Granger, get in here if you're going to help!" Snape's bellow resounded down the hallway.

"Too late," Harry said.

Hermione hurried down the hallway to Remus's room, and Harry turned the other way and went down the stairs.

Working together, Snape and Hermione eased Remus into a sitting position. He wasn't unconscious, but neither was he completely awake. He did open his mouth when they told him to, and he managed to swallow the potions they poured into him with only minimal spillage. Although his eyes were open, he didn't seem to recognise them or his surroundings.

After he'd taken the potions, Hermione cleaned the wound on his leg and put a fresh dressing on it.

Remus moaned softly as she worked. He also mumbled under his breath, but they couldn't understand what he was trying to say.

"Oh, Remus, I'm sorry," Hermione whispered as she worked. "I know this hurts."

"It's all right, Hermione." He spoke with sudden clarity and when she looked up, she saw that he seemed to be awake and lucid.

"Remus! Oh, Remus, you're back!"

"Where did I go?" he asked.

Hermione bit her bottom lip, uncertain if she should tell him what had happened to him if he didn't remember.

Snape had no such reticence. He leaned over Remus and grasped his chin, none too gently, forcing Remus to look at him instead of Hermione.

"Lupin, what did you hear?" he demanded.

"What did I hear?"

"From Greyback."

"Greyback?" Remus tried to turn out of Snape's grasp, but in his weakened state he couldn't escape.

"Stop repeating everything I say and think!"

"Stop it, Severus," Hermione said, reaching out and grasping Snape's forearm. "You're hurting him."

Snape turned away from Remus in disgust.

Remus fell back against the pillow, and his eyes closed.

"He might as well have died if he can't tell us what he overheard," Snape said.

"He can't help it if he doesn't remember. Maybe Greyback Obliviated him,"

Hermione said as she tried to reason with him.

"I'll find out what he heard," Snape said. He turned back toward the bed as he reached for his wand.

"No!" Hermione shouted. "He's too weak! Do you want to turn him into another Frank Longbottom?"

Snape's head shot around.

"I'm going to use Legilimency, not the Cruciatus."

"If he's been Obliviated, even Legilimency won't help."

"He knew who you were," Snape said, "and he found his way back here. If Greyback had used a memory charm, he wouldn't have been selective. He would have wiped out everything."

"Then maybe he's just confused and in pain. He's only had two doses of the healing potions, and they haven't completely kicked in yet. I'm sure that he'll remember soon. He was asking for you when he arrived; he would have told you then if he hadn't passed out. Will a few hours make that much of a difference?"

"Since I don't know what information he has, I can't answer that," Snape said. "But I concede your point. I'll be back in a couple of hours to see if he's making any more sense."

"Severus! Hermione! Lunch is ready." Molly's voice carried all the way up the stairs from the kitchen.

"Tell Molly I'll be back later," Snape said as he opened the bedroom door.

"Where are you going?"

"That is none of your business," he said as he moved down the hall toward the stairs.

"Severus, wait," Hermione said.

"What is it now, Miss Granger?" he snarled as he turned back and glared at her.

Hermione resisted the urge to snarl back. After all, he had just returned from Voldemort. She could see the slight trembling of his hands and the white line of leftover pain around his thinned lips. Doubtless he'd been punished for some imaginary transgression. His sickness indicated that he'd been subjected to even more than a bout of the Cruciatus, and she had no doubt that not all his pain came from the curse. Nor was it all physical.

All these thoughts went through her mind in a moment, and she pushed back her anger at his treatment of her.

"Do you need some pain medication, Severus? I've stocked up on the ibuprofen."

"I don't need anything from you except that you address me in a more respectful manner, Miss Granger."

"So that's the way it's to be, then?" she asked in a quiet voice. "I'm to be 'Miss Granger' again, and you're to be 'Mr. Snape, sir,' and we're to pretend that nothing happened between us?"

"Nothing happened between us," he hissed.

"I wanted you to kiss me."

"Do you really think I care about your foolish, romantic notions?" he asked.

"You wanted to kiss me, as well," she insisted.

"You. Are. Wrong." Snape bit the words out. "Now, get out of my way, you stupid, silly, little girl!"

With those words, Snape pulled his travelling cloak more tightly around his body and hurried down the stairs.

Hermione heard the front door open and then slam closed.

A moment later there was a loud crack of Disapparation.