Girl Most Likely
by LizBee

Act Three

Chapter Twelve

Everything came to a halt as Snape advanced into the room. Remus followed; he smiled at Harry, who did not return it.

"Lilith," Snape said quietly, "wait for me in my office."

" Father-"

Snape waved a hand, and the door to his office opened. "Now," he breathed. Lilith reluctantly obeyed, casting a worried look behind her at Harry.

"Potter," said Snape, "kindly take yourself and your entourage, and leave my home."

"I'm afraid I can't do that, Professor. We have a duty to protect-"

"As far as I'm aware, this is an unprecedented occasion - the College of Aurors taking responsibility for the safety of one insignificant individual. Under magical law, I am responsible for my daughter's actions and safety. And I neither want nor need your assistance."

"Severus." Enid paused at the top of the stairs, taking in the scene below. Harry was amazed to see Snape's face soften as she descended. "This is a serious enterprise. I would hardly commit my people to a frivolous or unnecessary operation."

"Then this is your affair, Enid? I was under the impression that this - protection - was being conducted under Potter's auspices."

Enid and Harry exchanged a look as Enid said, "It's a collaborative exercise."

"Really." Snape drew a newspaper from under his arm. Harry recognised the masthead of Wizard! before he identified his own face, possibly because his photographic self was busy shoving his tongue down the throat of a dark-haired girl who might have been Lilith. Harry snatched the tabloid from Snape's hand; his doppelganger had the decency to wither beneath his glare.

"Polyjuice journalism," he said in disgust.

"So why don't you take yourself off and prepare a lawsuit," Snape suggested, "or add it to your collection, or whatever it is you plan to do, and leave my house?"

"I have a job here," Harry said, skipping the article and going straight to the classifieds. "And if that means associating with you, then I suppose I'll just have to grit my teeth and bear it." The classifieds were filled with the usual drivel, but Harry could find nothing relevant to the case at first glance. He would turn it over to a College analyst later.

"Don't send him away," said Lilith, lingering in the doorway. "I don't care about the others. But I trust Harry."

This statement only made Snape regard Harry with more distaste than ever. He turned on his heel and swept into his office, gently pushing Lilith inwards and closing the door.

Harry silently handed the newspaper to Enid, who examined it with a frown. Hermione stood up.

"I need to get going. I have work to do at the Ministry."

"Coward," mumbled Ron.

"I know. Don't you wish you had that excuse?"

"Desperately." She kissed him on the cheek, waved to Lupin and Disapparated.

Harry leaned against a wall and contemplated all sorts of tortures for tabloid journalists. Starting with a friendly letter from his solicitors, and ending with something intricate involving thumbscrews, rusty safety-pins and ginger beer.

A resounding silence came from Snape's office.

Harry mentally substituted raspberry lemonade for ginger beer.

"How was Europe?" Ron asked Lupin.

"Fascinating. I learnt a great deal, being able to travel freely. I confess, I'm not looking forward to living under the restrictions here - but Europe is on the verge of becoming even worse. If I must have my movements controlled by a hostile government, I'd prefer it to be in my own country."

"How did you get your Potion in Europe?" Ron asked.

"It's sold rather more freely than in England. Though I found myself stealing a cauldron-ful, on one memorable occasion."

Harry stared at the wall.

Enid said, "Borgin's Inveritas will wear off tonight. Midnight, according to Thistlewight."

"We should have a party," said Ron.

"Yeah," said Harry, "a real celebration."

He wondered what Borgin would reveal once dosed with Veritaserum, and how much it would affect him.

Lost your temper the other day, eh Potter?

Could have been worse.

Is that going to be your excuse from now on, then?

Lilith's voice rose in anger in Snape's office, and something heavy thudded against a wall.

"Book," Ron guessed.

"The Rise of the Dark Order," Enid suggested.

"Darkness Over Europe, volume three," said Harry.

Glass smashed. Enid winced. "Sextant."

The door was wrenched open, and Snape stalked out, casting Reparo over his shoulder.

"Enid, I want a word."

"Of course," said Enid. Lilith emerged from the study as they entered, slipping past her father without making eye contact. She slumped onto the couch, drew her knees up to her chin and began biting her nails. To Harry's surprise, Ron gave her a grin.

"Did anyone ever tell you about the time your dad caught Harry sneaking down to Hogsmeade in his Invisibility Cloak?"

Lupin smiled slightly and said, "Let's not mislead her. He caught Harry just as he returned to the school."

"Anyway, Malfoy snitched on me," Harry muttered.

"What happened," asked Lilith without looking up from her hands.

"Malfoy reckoned that a disembodied head was throwing mud at him outside the Shrieking Shack." Harry snickered at the memory. "For some reason, he and the Professor seemed to think I was involved."

"You had no right to be away from school grounds," Lupin said softly.

"I know, I know." Harry grimaced. "I still remember the lecture you gave me."

A hint of a smile touched Lupin's eyes. "I'm very pleased to hear that."

Harry bared his teeth in something like a grin.

"You look well, Lilith," said Lupin, "Under the circumstances."

She didn't look at him. "Did you expect to find me tied to a rock, then, waiting for the monster while the Gryffindors threw a party?"

"Nothing so melodramatic. Though I gather your father is planning to lock you in an attic somewhere."

She gave him a look that Harry interpreted as, you're not my ally, no matter how friendly you seem now.

"I actually meant," Lupin added, "that you've grown since I saw you."

"Hmm," Lilith said neutrally.

Leaving Ron to deal with her, Harry led Lupin into the dining room.

"Thanks for retrieving Snape for us," he said, "even if your timing is lousy. Tough job?"

"Somewhat. The hardest part was in not tipping him off that I was searching. Still, with all the Dark wizards on the hunt, I blended into the crowd." Lupin frowned. "Look, don't let Severus scare you away from this."

"Not bloody likely."

"Good. He won't give me a reason for wanting you off the case, so I'm going to assume that it's nothing more than his famous ability to hold a grudge. And he's managed to earn the enmity of the entire Dark Order. Sooner or later, they'll send someone he can't deal with."

"If they haven't killed him yet, then they probably want something." Harry stared at the bookshelves on the far wall. "He was one of their best, once. Even after he turned on Voldemort, they still held out hope that he'd return to the Order. And if we discount Borgin's words - I guess we'll know tonight - no one would complain if he brought Lilith along for the ride."

"That will never happen. Whatever Snape's allegiances, he's fanatical about keeping Lilith free of it."

"I've noticed. And I don't blame him … the Dark Arts are incredibly addictive even with the pain that goes into learning them. Lilith already has a predisposition - has been half-trained by two of the most dangerous Dark wizards in the country. I wouldn't want to encourage it."

Lupin frowned. "Borgin has taught her, then?"

"Started lessons the same summer you quit. Which, you'll notice, she hasn't yet forgiven you for."

"Forgiveness is not in that family, Harry. Haven't you realised that by now?" Lupin walked out and retrieved his bag from the Apparition parlour. "I'm off - I should see Sirius, among others. Ron, Lilith, it was good to see both of you again. Give my regards to Hermione, Ron."

Ron leapt up to say goodbye as Lupin Floo'd out, but Lilith just curled herself into a tighter ball. Harry sat down beside her.

"It's not fair," she said softly, "he hates me. He's always hated me."

She wasn't talking about Lupin. Harry patted her shoulder, but couldn't bring himself to offer reassurances he didn't quite believe.

***

"I want Potter out of my house."

"It's nice to see you again too, Severus," said Enid.

"He has no place in this investigation."

"On the contrary, until Saturday, he was in charge of this investigation. I was dealing with Borgin."

"You're in charge now. Remove him."

Enid sat down, looking perfectly at ease in his space. "No. We're violating quite a few rules with this affair, and Potter's name has enough authority that no one actually cares."

"Typical."

"Not completely. I think Lux is hoping that this will mark a return to form for Potter. Anyway, Harry's not doing a bad job, considering that this is his first extended period in a position of authority."

Snape permitted himself a small smile. "You're an appalling liar, Zabini."

"Only because you've known me too long. Potter is annoying, high handed and - and strange at the moment. But he's saved Lilith twice already, and she trusts him." Enid became serious. "And you can't tell me that she trusts easily."

"No. I can't."

"Let Harry stay. He's the best person for this job. He's already surmised that Lilith is under a Memory charm."

"He is the very worst person. And a Memory charm should be the least of your concerns where Borgin is concerned."

"You owe him a great deal. Your daughter's life, for one thing. You can't possibly tell me you wouldn't like to see her uncle in Azkaban, safely away from her. Isn't that worth the trauma of undoing a Memory charm?"

Easy for her to say that, he thought sourly. She had no children, had worked hard to avoid that sort of entanglement. As for Potter…

Another Potter, another debt. Into eternity. Is there no escaping that family?

Enid's gaze was steady. "It is my professional opinion that unless the situation changes, Harry should remain on this case. If only because he is the only one of us who can have a civil conversation with Lilith." It was on the tip of Snape's tongue to point out that Lilith's comfort was a secondary concern to her safety, but he said nothing. Apparently feeling that the conversation was resolved, Enid leaned back and said, "How was France?"

"Dangerous. I … you should know that I encountered a former Death Eater in France. Went hunting for him, in fact."

"Why?"

"He'd been privy to some … events in the last months of Voldemort's life. Which he has shared with the Dark Order."

"What was the information?"

"Personal." Enid raised her eyebrows. "It related to some of Eugenia's … activities, before Lilith was born." Enid looked unsatisfied; to change the subject he said, "how have you been?"

Her smile was perfectly measured. "Fine. Thank you. I must admit, spending time with Lilith was … instructive. Provided a great insight into your character." Something he couldn't identify flashed in her eyes, quickly concealed. He did not speak, and after a moment she said, "Well, you'll be wanting all the particulars about this case…"

***

Potter cooked again. Lilith found him peeling potatoes by hand, as Ron and Enid showed her father the wards around the house and neighbourhood.

"You're a man of many talents, then," she said. "Thoroughly domesticated."

"My aunt made me cook a lot when I was growing up. It's soothing."

"Slave labour. Lucky you." Lilith played with a bit of potato peel. "The books always make it sound glamorous. A Gryffindor princeling in hiding."

Potter snorted. "Hardly that. I didn't even have a bedroom until I was eleven. You at least have a father who is alive and, um, concerned about you."

Lilith sighed. "My comments this morning notwithstanding, I think I'd prefer it if he cared about me from France."

Harry didn't bother arguing.

Over dinner, Enid said, "Severus, I want to assign you a guard. The Dark Order will have to keep a lower profile in England, but sooner or later they'll strike."

Lilith expected him to argue, but he merely took a sip of wine and said, "Whom do you have in mind?"

"I'll do it myself, as far as I'm able. Other than that, I'll talk to Lisa and Michael." She glanced at Harry and Ron, who gave her cheerful what, you don't want us? looks. "You two should pay more attention to your paperwork, if you don't mind."

"Hey, I'm up to date," Weasley protested.

"And I copy off him," Potter added.

"Just like Divination."

"Wonderful," said Snape, "the nation can sleep soundly at night, knowing that it has you two to protect it. Speaking of which," he turned to Enid, "I want to be there when you interrogate Borgin tonight."

"No," Lilith said without thinking. Her father pursed his lips and raised his eyebrows, as if to say, What are you trying to hide? "If you can go, then I should. He's my uncle." Defiantly she added, "anyway, the entire Coterie is supposed to be present for an interrogation, right? You can hardly leave me at home."

Enid began, "We were planning to leave you with the Second Coterie-" Harry cut her off.

"Let her come." He met Snape's eyes. "She should see what he is. What the Dark Arts have made him."

Lilith scowled. "I don't need a lesson. I just want to see my uncle."

Her father smiled thinly. "Come, then. It will do you good. Five years at school have certainly taught you nothing."

"I learnt enough," she mumbled.

"Really? Let me see, you barely passed your core subjects, including Potions. You failed to win the Quidditch Cup for Slytherin House. You did finally succeed in driving your Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher to resign, creating a great deal of extra work for me this summer - which I'll now have to co-ordinate around the Aurors. So tell me, Lilith," his voice dropped to a deadly whisper, "what have you learnt?"

Well, I learnt how to sneak into the Restricted Section without being caught. From there I learnt how to kill an animal quickly and silently, and extract their magical energy. I learnt how to cut Simon Leach and Margie Leary down with words instead of hexes, and which teachers would give me special treatment because of you, and which students fear me…

She said nothing.

Potter came to her rescue, saying lightly, "Of course, getting rid of unwanted teachers is a useful skill."

"But not," said Snape, "one I'd care Lilith to refine."

Dinner continued in uneasy silence.

As midnight approached, the Aurors grew quiet and tense. Lilith was reading, tucked into a deep, shadowed corner of the lounge room, when Snape entered. Zabini followed a moment later, and Lilith made herself unobtrusive.

Not seeing her, Snape touched Zabini's arm and said softly, "Do you intend to form a Circle tonight?"

"If I have to."

He scowled. "With witnesses?"

"As I said. If I have to."

Snape tilted his head. "I'd be curious to see how Potter and Weasley fare. Have they ever-"

"No. It's never been necessary."

"Perhaps you should ensure that it remains unnecessary. Or are you so infatuated with the Auror mentality-"

"Severus." Zabini's voice was gentler than Lilith had ever heard it. "I don't want to form a Circle. I'll bluff, I'll threaten, but I don't want it anymore than you."

Snape relaxed slightly, but Lilith could still see the tension in his jaw. "Good." He walked away and entered his office, still not noticing Lilith. After a moment, she followed.

Her father was sitting at his desk, leaning back in his chair and staring at his bookshelf. His mind was obviously far away, and when he looked up at her, his eyes were haunted.

"Are you all right?"

He blinked, and his face was closed once more.

"Of course I am." Before she could argue, he went on, "if you must come, at least put on some decent robes. And do your hair. You look like a street urchin."

Proper paternal distance once more established, he returned to his contemplation.

Lilith returned to her room and defiantly exchanged her Muggle dress for the oldest, thinnest black robes she could find. The long sleeves were artfully slashed in last year's fashion, with impractical trailing cuffs, but it had a high neckline and concealed her legs. She ruthlessly pulled her limp hair into a Victorian knot, but without magic, it would no doubt be falling down again within the hour.

After a moment's thought, she slipped her wand into its pocket on her skirt. Technically, she'd had no need of it over summer. But she had no desire to be vulnerable to attack. Again.

Snape was once again distracted when she came back downstairs, barely giving her a glance. He was flexing his left hand, a gesture she'd long recognised as a sign of worry.

Harry, though, gave her a small smile that lightened her heart. He too had changed into robes, dark green ones beneath a black cloak. He lit the fire, but rested a hand on Lilith's shoulder to hold her back as Zabini and Weasley threw the Floo powder on the flames and vanished. Only when they were gone did he allow her to move forward.

She knew the second that she emerged from the hearth that something was wrong. The room was dark and silent, and there was no trace of life anywhere beyond it. Weasley and Zabini both had their wands out, their eyes glittering in the semi-darkness. Zabini drew Lilith closer as Potter and Snape emerged.

"What's happened?" Weasley asked.

"Borgin," said Zabini grimly.

"You're leaping to conclusions," said Lilith's father.

"I don't believe in coincidence," Zabini snarled. "Who else would dare attack us? Who else would have the resources?"

"He's been in a cell for weeks," Weasley said quietly.

"Someone must have helped him, then," said Potter.

"An outsider couldn't have-"

"It would appear that you have a traitor, Enid," said Snape.

"Not in my Coterie," she said. "Never in my Coterie."

"Yeah, and how many others are involved in this project?" Ron said. "The whole operation is too big to control. We should have seen this coming."

"We'll sort this out later," Potter said. "First Coterie was assembling at Borgin's cell." A muscle jumped in his cheek. "Let's see if they survived."

"Severus, Lilith, wait here-"

"No," said Snape. "Borgin could be loose in here, and I think it's clear that the Aurors aren't to be trusted. I don't care to risk Polyjuice replacement. Of either party.

The three Aurors exchanged a look, and Enid nodded.

"Come on, then. Quietly."

They moved in through shadowed corridors, the Aurors taking front and rear, protecting the civilians. Zabini set a rapid, confident pace as they marched steadily downwards. An unnatural silence hung around the Tower. Lilith reached for her father's hand; without speaking, he wrapped his own around her wrist. Reassured by the rare, solid contact, she relaxed.

Two corridors intersected, and in the shadows of the smaller hall, something rustled. Everyone froze. Weasley and Zabini exchanged a look, and Ron moved towards the shadows.

"Shit," he said, and yanked a long, thorny spine off the wall.

"At least we know what we're up against," Zabini said.

"I don't understand," said Lilith.

"That's Soppora Vine," her father said. "It grows in the presence of certain Sleeping Charms."

"The long-term kind," added Harry, "though this one's young. Not even an hour old. Lumos!"

He shone his wand down the corridor, revealing writhing tendrils.

"Shit," Weasley said again.

"Ron," warned Enid, sounding like Aunt Arabella. Weasley moved back to the group as a tendril snaked towards him.

'They're still unaware," Snape whispered, "but they'll hear our voices. We need to move quickly, before they can sense our movements as well."

"Fire?" asked Weasley.

"Ice."

"Got your wand, Lilith?" She drew it from her robes. "The charm is 'Frigidaro'." Harry demonstrated the neat little flick, though she had learnt the spell in second year.

The vines withered under the charm, and they moved on. Every noise seemed to be magnified, and vines reached for them as they walked. Though her heartbeat sounded like a roar in Lilith's ears, she didn't make a sound, even when a vine wrapped itself around her arm.

"Frigidaro," snapped her father and Harry at the same time. The plant withered and fell off, leaving Lilith's arm cold and bruised. She allowed Harry to cast a Soothing Charm, while her father looked on and scowled.

The walls became darker as they moved downwards, absorbing what little light there was. The vines were thicker, more aware. They cast Frigidaro again and again, and when that failed to stop one very tough plant, Harry drew a knife from his robes and hacked at it.

"Need a bloody sword," he mumbled.

"Quiet," snapped Zabini and Snape together.

The lowest level was the darkest, filled with an odd aura that made Lilith's head throb. She saw her father's shoulders tighten, and wondered if he'd once been a prisoner down here.

Unconscious figures were strewn about the main chamber, arranged in a loose circle. She recognised Dennis, Marion and the other Aurors of the First Coterie. There were a few unfamiliar faces, no doubt Aurors of the Second and Third Coteries. Enid knelt to examine them.

"Just sleeping," she breathed. "I've seen cases where a Sleeping Charm is cast after everyone is killed … I remember fighting through the vines and finding a pile of corpses…"

Harry left the main chamber. "Borgin is gone," he called grimly, "but we knew that already."

"So he's just been playing us?" asked Weasley. "All this time?"

Lilith joined Harry outside her uncle's cell.

"No," said Harry. "I don't think he expected this. Someone came for him, and he went with them." He pointed to a series of gouges in the side of the wooden cot, and the shattered plate on the floor. "Eventually."

"Who, then?" asked Snape. "There are no major Dark wizards left in England. And nothing I saw in France implied that the Order is strong enough to attack the Aurors."

Harry and Ron exchanged a look.

"Malfoy," they said together.

Snape sneered. "I said major Dark wizards, not corrupt businessmen… Draco's entire adult life has been based on the precedent of his parents. And Lucius never dared imagine anything this audacious."

"Who else, then? A European?" Harry glared at Snape. "Malfoy has the money and the power."

"To suborn an Auror?"

"I wouldn't put it past him."

Lilith stared at the gouges on the bed. "It was Burke," she said. "He might have had help, but he did it."

"A missing Dark wizard emerges from hiding to rescue his partner from prison?" asked Enid sceptically.

"From interrogation," said Harry. "Because Borgin had something to reveal. And so does Lilith, even if she doesn't know it."

"We're not going to be able to break the memory charm until we find Borgin."

"If I could persuade Neville-"

"I wouldn't try that again, Harry."

"We're wasting time," said Enid. "We can worry about pursuit later - right now, we should issue a College-wide alert, and contact the Ministry. And get the others into the Infirmary."

"That's just the kind of delay they're hoping for," said Harry. "We might be too late already - we need to start the pursuit now." He straightened and adjusted his robes. "You take care of the others - I'm going after Borgin."

He Disapparated before they could stop him.

***

Rather to Harry's surprise, he was quickly admitted to Malfoy Manor. A human servant led him to a spacious office, where Malfoy himself joined him after several minutes' delay.

No trace of Lucius lingered in the room, but Harry fancied there was an angry ghost railing at him from the netherworld. He mentally flipped an obscene gesture at the wraith and smiled slowly at Draco.

Malfoy's eyes narrowed, and there was a flicker of the old rivalry, quickly concealed beneath a veneer of businesslike civility.

"What can I do for you, Potter?" he drawled. "You might be able to spend your nights chasing the miscreants of the world - though I believe Wizard! has some alternative theories - but I'd rather be sleeping in my bed. With my wife."

Want some salt to rub into that wound, Malfoy?

Harry swallowed his ire and said, "Had much to do with Janus Borgin lately?"

Malfoy didn't flinch. "Not for a few years. I paid for his legal team several years back. Friend of the family, you know."

"I know."

"Haven't heard from him since then. Not that I sought him out. Rather embarrassing connection, really. Why?" Malfoy's lip curled. "Has he finally broken out, then? And you came rushing to tell me about it, because you so value the role of the free media in our modern society." He leaned forward, his eyes cold. "Or maybe you thought that I had something to do with it. But that can't be the case, can it, Potter? If you really thought I'd had anything to do with Borgin, you'd have brought your Coterie, instead of showing up at half-past midnight, alone, and glaring at me across my desk. So where's your Coterie, Potter? Where's that hellcat Zabini, and why isn't she tearing up my house? Where's the Veritaserum? Where's the Ministry?"

Harry refused to be bated, simply saying, "And if we were to tear your house apart? What would we find?"

"Nothing. Gabrielle and I live simply, and the Ministry taxes heavily. And as much as I'd love to discuss my business interests with you over a cup of tea, I'm afraid I'm going to have to evict you from my home and go back to bed."

"Tired, Malfoy?"

"I'm afraid I'm not a glorified babysitter like you. I do have a career." He smirked. "I think, Potter, that you've gotten a bit carried away with this whole saviour of the world business. You've started to believe your own publicity. Hubris, Potter. It's the downfall of any hero. I don't need the Dark Arts to destroy you - I just have to wait until you do it yourself. And then make sure that the world knows. What is the Muggle term? 'In the public interest'? Tell me, O Great Saviour, what's stopping me from calling my reporters now and giving them the scoop of the decade - Harry Potter, invading the home of a reputable businessman, on the strength of suspicion and a schoolboy grudge?"

"Well," said a soft voice from the doorway, "it might be considered tacky." Gabrielle Delacour Malfoy leaned against the doorframe, clad in a pale dressing down that showed off her white-gold beauty to perfection.

Malfoy's breath caught audibly in his throat, and he rose to his feet to greet his wife. A husband bewitched.

Gabrielle gave Harry an enigmatic smile as she embraced Draco.

"Don't say anything about it, darling. For me?"

Malfoy kissed the tips of her fingers. "For you. Only for you." His eyes were angry when he turned back to Harry. "But you're treading on thin ice, Potter. Sooner or later, you'll slip."

Harry opened his mouth, but Gabrielle said, "Just go, Harry. You'll only make it worse."

He left, heart pounding and head throbbing.

I was so sure. So bloody sure.

And he'd come so close to self-destruction.

He couldn't think straight, still reeling from the heady, distracting anger of the day. He'd taken all his suppressed fury at Snape and directed it at Malfoy, and that had been a mistake.

But not a fatal one. Yet.

Snape gave Harry a disdainful look when he arrived back at the Tower, Apparating into the Coterie lounge.

"Enjoy your snipe hunt?" Enid murmured.

"Not particularly. What's happened?"

"The rest of the Coterie is in the Infirmary. Ron is watching them - I've called in Magical Law Enforcement to assist. I also owled Tenebreas Lux; he should be here at any moment." She gave Snape an exasperated look. "Please, Professor, I want you to reconsider about the safe-house-"

"No. I've seen too many people murdered in the beds of so-called safe-houses."

Yeah, he probably killed a few of them himself, Harry thought uncharitably.

"If I go into hiding at all," Snape added, "I certainly wouldn't let the Ministry know where I was going."

"We could use Fidelius-"

"For Merlin's sake, Zabini, have you no common sense? That would take weeks to prepare. Anyway, anyone I'd trust as my Secret-Keeper would be close enough to be included in the charm."

Which meant Snape himself, and Arabella Figg. What a rich life you lead, Professor.

Enid actually looked hurt, but she persisted, "At least allow me to prepare it. In case we need it later."

Snape waved contemptuously, but said, "If you must."

There were footsteps in the corridor outside, and Tenebreas Lux entered, looking dapper in spite of the late hour. Only the shadows under his eyes betrayed exhaustion. "Enid, Harry…" He paused, lips thinning. "Professor Snape."

"Sir," said Enid. Harry belatedly stood to attention. "The Tower is secure. The First Coterie is-"

"In the Infirmary, I know. I stopped in on my way up here." He brandished a parchment. "I have just received a rather irate owl from Draco Malfoy, asking that I - quote - 'exercise some control over the more volatile elements in my College'. Since Ron Weasley knew nothing about it when I saw him, I'm going to assume that Mr Potter has an explanation." He handed the note to Harry. In his haste to tell tales, Malfoy had abandoned his usual elegant script for an unbecoming scrawl, but the meaning wasn't hard to decipher. At least Malfoy had refrained from veiled threats this time; Lux was famous for being intolerant of blackmail.

"In light of previous connections between Borgin and the Malfoy family, I Apparated straight to the Manor. I'd hoped to catch him in the act - obviously, I didn't."

He expected an official reprimand; it had been a long time since Aurors were free to invade homes on a mere suspicion. But Lux merely said, "You will write a letter of apology to Mr Malfoy. And remind him, politely, that his position brings both privileges and responsibilities, and it would behove him to remember the debt he owes to the College of Aurors."

Snape raised his eyebrows. "For not killing him fifteen years ago?"

"We would have been well within our rights - Imperius or no, young Mr Malfoy was linked with several massacres." Lux smiled grimly. "Anyway, just look at his family background." He turned to Lilith. "And you must be the young lady we've gone to so much trouble to protect."

"Must I?"

"Lilith," Snape breathed.

She scowled. "I'm Lilith Borgin." Slowly, so there could be no doubt of the insult, she offered her hand. Lux took it without hesitation, his thick fingers enveloping hers. His hands were scarred, a legacy from his years as an Auror. It was a stark contrast to Lilith's pale fingers.

"Charmed." He peered at her. "You have your mother's eyes. Did you know that?"

She blinked. "I did. Actually."

"I doubt anyone lets you forget it.

She smiled mirthlessly, in perfect imitation of her father. "No one has any manners these days."

"Lilith. Enough." Snape didn't sound the slightest bit angry, though.

Lux smirked slightly. "A daughter any man would be proud of."

Snape ignored the jibe and said, "Enid, we're leaving. I don't particularly want to spend the night here."

"Wait - you shouldn't go alone. Harry, you go with them. Brief the Independents. I'll send someone to relieve you as soon as I can spare them."

He scowled, but moved towards the hearth, gesturing Lilith to follow.

"Go to bed," he ordered her as soon as they'd returned to Oxford.

"I'm not-"

"I am not in the mood for argument, Lilith. Now."

She fled, scowling. Harry drew his wand and began making coffee.

"Do you want something stronger?" Snape asked.

"A Potion? No. Don't care for them."

"You're certain? If I must have you in my house, I want you awake and capable of functioning." His tone implied that Harry was only capable of half the equation anyway.

"I'll do better without."

"Very well." Snape went upstairs to watch over Lilith. Harry patrolled the house, prowling through the rooms until he knew every creaking floorboard by heart.

Moving upstairs, he felt Snape's eyes following him. The professor sat on a chair outside Lilith's open door, reading Ars Potionis. A small light hovered over his shoulder, casting the other side of his face into shadow.

The past hung between them; they did not speak.

***

He'd say this for Zabini: she was perceptive. The next day, Potter was reassigned to hunt Borgin, and Snape was able to study his daughter without Potter's distracting presence.

Lilith had changed.

It wasn't obvious; the time with the Aurors had certainly done nothing for her manners. If anything, she was more obnoxious and sulky than ever, though she was losing the insolent adolescent slouch that normally aggravated him.

But she was angry, and behind the anger, he could see flashes of guilt. She had, after all, gotten herself into this mess, and she clearly knew it. Snape said nothing about her deceptions; the Auror supervision was a more effective house arrest than anything he could do himself. Unlike Potter's crowd, though, he didn't allow her to hide in her room, but forced her to stay downstairs. So much the better to observe her.

She was tired, he decided, watching her droop over a book. Her enormous eyes were shadowed and worried. Ignoring his disapproval - and there was no doubting who had taught her that defiant lift of the chin - she continually asked the other Aurors about Potter.

Her face was open when his name came up, and her eyes held a look Snape had never seen before. Not in Lilith, anyway, though forty years of teaching had given him ample opportunity to see it in other girls.

Not her. Not him. Not now.

He might have tolerated a schoolgirl infatuation with an unattainable, older Auror. Possibly. But this had too many implications, and he didn't care to think about the possible consequences.

The Department of Mysteries kept no offices in the Ministry buildings, but it was widely known that the 'Ministry researcher' Hermione Granger was housed in Politick Alley, one level above the Minister of Magic. Suppressing his misgivings, he left Lilith in the care of Robinson and Creevey and presented himself to the Ministry gatekeeper on Friday morning, asking to see Granger.

The gatekeeper - an Auror, Snape had no doubt, unaffiliated with any Coterie - gave him a suspicious look. Snape swallowed his bitter train of thought - they'd never have made Dumbledore wait, or even Minerva - and said, "I have urgent business with Madam Granger."

"Very well, Headmaster," said the gatekeeper. He waved his wand at the mahogany double doors on his right. "Down that corridor."

The corridor was the same, whatever one's destination, and the spells controlling access to the Ministry's restricted areas were heavily guarded. Snape stalked down the hall, ignoring the curious paintings and statues watching his progress. He considered knocking on the rosewood doors at the end; then he changed his mind and threw them open.

Granger jumped, much to his gratification. Her wand was in her hand before she recognised him and relaxed, but her voice was perfectly calm as she said, "What can I do for you, Headmaster?"

"Potter," he said, and paused, searching for the words to articulate his feelings.

"Is currently in Exeter, I believe, tracking Borgin. How is Lilith?"

"Very well. Why is Potter so interested in her?"

She raised her eyebrows. "What are you implying, Professor? Harry is careless about propriety, and the tabloid media make a sex scandal out of everything, but you surely don't think anything improper is going on." She glared at him. "I trust Harry."

"I simply want to know why he's so concerned with her."

Granger studied him, weighing her words. Deciding how far he could be trusted.

"Harry thinks he's a knight errant," she said at last. "Or rather, he is expected to be one, and he has always lived up to expectations. Surpassed them, even. But there are a lot of grey areas in the real world, and it's no longer a case of Dumbledore good, Voldemort bad. Harry saved Ginny when he was twelve, but he couldn't do it again when he was thirty. The College of Aurors is becoming increasingly political - I know for a fact that two of our Aurors were involved in the assassination of the Madagascan Minister for Magical Affairs last year. They were told he was involved in the Dark Arts, but I know for a fact that is a lie.

"And then Harry meets Lilith, and everything seems simple. He can save the girl again, and he can spend time with a product of the world he saved. Have you heard the term 'Potter's generation'? He hates it, of course, but it does sum up Lilith's peers."

"Typical hyperbole."

"Well, yes. But imagine what Lilith would be if not for Harry."

He could, all too clearly.

"And on a simpler level - Harry's life is littered with people who died because of him. Especially women. I mean, if you believe in real world archetypes and foreshadowing, I'm lucky to be alive! But Harry knows how many sacrifices have been made. He doesn't want to add Lilith to the list." She smiled. "I could also point out that her name is a lot like his mother's. Speaking of women who made sacrifices. But Neville has finally persuaded the wizarding world that Freud was a fruitcake - I wouldn't want to play amateur psychologist with discredited theories."

She chuckled. Snape didn't. "Why are you telling me this?" he asked.

"Because I trust you. More than most in the Ministry, I'd imagine."

"No doubt." No, he was no Dumbledore, trusted and liked by nearly everyone. Nor was he a populist like Minister Leach. He was a former Death Eater, and there were those who still believed he belonged in Azkaban.

"We all trust you, Professor. Me, Harry, Ron, Enid. The people who matter."

Snape sneered; he'd heard these platitudes before.

"I've taken enough of your time," he said.

"Not at all - I have a feeling we're going to need all the allies we can get, soon."

Snape nodded, and left. Once outside the Ministry building, he Apparated to St Mungo's.

Arabella waved a weak hand in greeting as he entered her room.

"Heard you were back."

"Are you all right?"

"Recovering. I've bullied my doctors into letting me leave in a few days. I had to make all sorts of promises about behaving myself."

"Which, of course, you've no intention of keeping."

"Of course." Severus sat down, and Arabella said, "how is she?"

"Thoroughly infatuated with Potter," he pronounced with disgust.

"But not-?"

"No."

"Thank God. I tried to get him to stay away. Before any of this happened."

"You'd have been better off asking him to do the exact opposite."

"I spoke to Weasley, actually."

"Granger might have been better. Or Enid."

"Ah. Enid." A half-smile touched Arabella's lips. "I thought she'd made her disinterest in Lilith abundantly clear five years ago."

Sweet Merlin, save me from inquisitive women. "I never told you that."

"Didn't have to. I do have friends, Severus." So had she heard via gossip, or from Enid herself? Snape decided it was better not to ask.

"Enid … should keep her own counsel where Lilith is concerned."

"You're not tempted to tell her everything?"

Snape shook his head. "I don't know everything anymore. Borgin and Burke have interfered, and now Potter is confusing the issue."

Arabella laughed painfully. "You're so determined to control everything. You can't stand the thought that someone else has power over you."

"I'm not-"

"You're afraid of losing Lilith. You've never appreciated her properly, and now you're terrified that someone will take her away."

"Shouldn't I be - concerned?"

"Well. It depends on the circumstances, doesn't it?" Arabella sighed. "Find Borgin. Find out what he's done. Then we'll know what to do with Lilith."

The interview was over, but Snape was filled with an unaccountable frustration. Arabella did that to him: she saw too much, and she spoke her mind.

Not wanting to return to his Auror-infested home, he walked through the hospital and out into the gardens.

The St Mungo's grounds had been designed in the eighteenth century, by a wizard who had apparently done his best work under the influence of hallucinogens. Or at least, that was the only way to account for the eccentric features. Snape stalked out to the Greek temple, tastefully decorated with the heads of real Gorgons (petrified with mirrors) and sat down.

His meditations were interrupted by an awkward cough. He turned, and found himself looking into Frank Longbottom's weak eyes.

"Snape. I thought it was you."

"You followed me."

"I saw you up here. I wanted to speak."

"Really."

Longbottom sat down, looking very much like his unbearable son.

"I heard your daughter was a patient here."

"Surely your son has some understanding of patient confidentiality. Even if they had to explain it with pictures and flashcards."

"Actually, it was in the newspaper. I read it a lot … I read it a lot, it, uh, improves my concentration span."

Silence stretched between them.

"I heard that you're Headmaster now."

Snape said nothing.

"I was surprised. You're not … who I would have expected, from your class."

"Well, Potter was unable to take the position. Dead and all."

"I know. I remember."

"How lucky for you."

"I remember … I also remember - you - the Circle-"

Snape's face must have been murderous, for Longbottom, one-time darling of the College of Aurors and scourge of Dark wizards, flinched.

"I barely remember anything," Snape snarled. "After the second day, all I can remember is the pain. You were probably too crazy to care, but Cruciatus pain like that lingers for days. And Dumbledore couldn't care for me, too many people would have noticed. So I made my way to Derbyshire and collapsed on Eugenia's doorstep. She nursed me back to health. And then she took her revenge for what you did to me." Snape swallowed, breathing heavily. "I didn't know what she and the others were planning. And I'm not sure I'd have stopped her if I had."

"I didn't - I know - what we did, it was wrong-"

"Wrong? To use Ministry-sanctioned torture on a prisoner - a prisoner who'd already proven cooperative and valuable? You admit that, now?"

"I admitted it then," Longbottom whispered. "You've never been able to forgive-"

"Do you expect me to pat you on the shoulder and tell you it's all right? That's never been my way."

"No. But you could have treated Neville better."

"Why? If not for me - and Eugenia - he'd no doubt be some low-level Ministry functionary, and the people who helped them find you would still be in power. I laid the groundwork for Eugenia to break his Memory charms-"

"You brutalised him. You bullied a boy in your care-"

"And yet, he thrives." Snape stood up. "I've had enough of your bleating, Longbottom. The ends are all to your advantage - and I don't care to debate the means with you."

He Disapparated before Longbottom could respond.

***

Lilith found her father in his study, reading through what looked like a job application. She paused in the doorway, weighing her options: he'd been in a worse mood than usual on his return from St Mungo's, and he probably still thought it was her fault he had to find a new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. Best to leave him be a little while longer…

"Lilith? What do you want?"

She turned back. "Nothing."

"You spent five minutes lurking in my doorway for nothing? I could find you something to do if you're bored."

"I was wondering … Potter's birthday is on Sunday."

"Yes. And?"

"His friends are giving him a party. Most of the Aurors will be there, so Weasley invited me, before you got back."

"Really."

"I want to go."

"The invitation was for their own convenience, surely."

Lilith shrugged. "Weasley just asked if I was still able to come. He said that Second Coterie and some Independents are taking over the Borgin hunt for a few days, so my uncle - so Borgin can't be certain of who is following him."

Her father studied her. "You hate parties. You usually spend them sulking in the corner."

"Those are Slytherin parties. With no one to talk to but people from school, and most of those are just an excuse for Isobel to sneak into her parents' liquor cabinet. They're boring."

"And you think a gathering of Weasleys will be somehow interesting? And their friends, of course. And their offspring."

"At least I'd be meeting people. If you had your way, I wouldn't even be allowed to talk to anyone at school."

She noticed he didn't try to deny it. "Very well, then. If nothing else, maybe Molly Weasley can teach you how to dress." He scowled at her sleeveless Muggle shirt. "Their children might be congenitally insolent, but at least their daughter never looked like a starving orphan."

"No, she married one instead," Lilith muttered as she turned away.

Relieved of his duties for the weekend, Harry let himself into his flat at ten-thirty on Friday night. There was a pile of mail and newspapers waiting for his attention on the table, but he ignored them and collapsed into his bed.

His dreams were filled with shadows; he walked down endless hallways, and someone was always watching him. He'd turn his head, and hear footsteps behind him, disappearing down a side-corridor.

He was still tired when he woke, as if he hadn't slept at all.

It was always strange to be alone again after a few days in the constant company of a fellow Auror. Harry would have preferred to go on longer; two days wasn't enough time to establish patterns, and it was dangerous to change hunters so quickly. But he was Harry Potter, and he was about to turn thirty-four, and someone had evidently decided that he should have a weekend off for his birthday, Dark wizards be damned. Ron and Hermione were planning what they fondly thought of as a surprise party. There was no escaping it.

Just think of it as another professional duty.

He very much wanted to see Lilith.

He ruthlessly suppressed that thought, along with every other emotional impulse he'd felt in the last few days. He would have a long talk with Hermione when this was all over, and accept her scolding if only he could somehow abandon this disturbing infatuation.

Sunday, his birthday, dawned hot, bright and humid, and a cohort of owls delivered birthday greetings. Harry skimmed them, penned a few responses, and awaited the hour he could Apparate to the Burrow for "a small family barbecue".

By eleven, he could stand the solitude no longer, and Apparated to Oxford.

For a second, he thought that his knock had gone unheard. The sun prickled on his skin, and he was about to give up and leave, when Snape opened the door.

"Potter. To what do I owe the honour of the occasion?"

"It's my birthday," said Harry shortly. "Is Lilith home?" Please, sir, can I come over to play?

"She's not. As a matter of fact, your cronies stopped by and picked her up about an hour ago. Judging by the suppressed laughter, I'd say they're planning a last minute surprise party." Snape leaned against the doorframe, pointedly not inviting Harry inside.

"That'd be Hermione and Ron, then."

"Accompanied by the less irritating Creevey brother, yes."

Harry sighed. "Can I come in?"

Snape considered it for a moment, and then moved aside. Harry caught a glimpse of Enid, looking up from a book as he and Snape swept past.

Snape Summoned two wineglasses with no concern for their evident value, but selected the wine with his own hands. Harry followed him out onto the back porch, overlooking a small, well-tended garden.

"This would be your thirty-fourth birthday," Snape said.

You know perfectly well what birthday it is.

"Yeah." Snape handed him a glass of wine; Harry tasted it thoughtfully. "The Malfoy Estate," he guessed, "2010."

"Why is it, Potter, that you failed to learn a single thing in seven years of Potions, yet managed to absorb everything I could teach you about good alcohol with no apparent effort?"

"Gryffindor mentality, Sirius says."

"At least you hold your liquor like a Slytherin."

"Parseltongue and a liver of steel. Voldemort's greatest gifts."

Snape stood and leaned against the railing. Without turning around, he said seriously, "Do you remember the discussion we had eighteen years ago?"

Remember? Harry could -- and had -- relived his sixteenth birthday in dreams. And in nightmares.

"Yes."

"And?" Snape turned. "Do you regret the choices you made?"

"You didn't give me choices. Except for life and death." Harry stared into his glass. "I made my decision. It wasn't easy, and it wasn't necessarily right ... except that I survived, and I healed."

Snape's hands twitched. "Did the ends justify the means?"

"I defeated Voldemort, didn't I?" Unaccountably irritated, Harry rose and joined Snape. "Look, I don't need to play the nostalgia game. I just came over to visit a friend."

Snape snorted.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means, Potter, that your friends have a tendency to find themselves in unpleasant situations. I would prefer that you not count Lilith among them."

"If this is about--"

"It's not."

"She was in danger."

"I'm aware of that. And your protection was..." Snape's mouth twisted and he reluctantly said, "invaluable. It's also over." Harry opened his mouth to speak, but Snape silenced him. "This is not about the tabloids; I know as well as everyone else that Malfoy controls the media. It's about you, and your tendency to fail where those closest to you are concerned."

"I don't know what you--"

"Sixth year: Hermione Granger was abducted by Lucius Malfoy. Seventh year: Ron Weasley and Neville Longbottom spent a month as Eugenia Lestrange's prisoners."

"I got Hermione out. I found Ron and Neville."

"Yes. But they only became targets because of you." Mercifully, Snape didn't mention Cho Chang, or Cedric Diggory. But next words were carefully chosen to wound. "And then ... there was your wife."

Harry stiffened. "Leave Ginny out of this. It's a separate matter."

"Really. Then you don't hold yourself personally responsible for her death? Dear me, Potter, I must have the other Boy Who Lived in mind..."

"Who the hell have you been talking to?"

"That's none of your concern."

"Like hell -- wait. Hermione told you that?"

"Is she wrong?"

"To discuss me with you? Yes!"

Snape took a step towards Harry; he was a good three inches taller, and far more intimidating.

"This is the pattern, Potter: those you care about become targets. Sometimes you're able to save them, sometimes not. Either way, the slightest failure eats away at your soul, and you have to retreat from the world to play Quidditch for a few years. And everyone allows it, because you're famous Harry Potter, and you deserve extra special treatment."

"I'm not going to fail."

"Of course not. Because after tonight, I'm ending your association with Lilith. Your colleagues can work with her. You track Borgin." Snape turned and walked inside. "I hear the Falcons are recruiting for the next season," he called over his shoulder.

Harry resisted the urge to throw his wineglass, or the whole bottle, at Snape. Instead, he grabbed his wand and Disapparated, landing in his flat just long enough to find his broom.

He spent the next few hours in the air, but there was no joy in flight that day.

***

Hermione hurried Lilith through the ramshackle halls and stairways of the Burrow.

"It's not the original house," she was saying, "that was destroyed in '96, but this is near enough. Molly insisted - the design is almost identical to that of the old house - just a bit more coherent." She paused for breath on a landing, and threw a door open. "You can leave your things here - this is just a guest room, now. It used to be-" Granger paused, then changed tack. "Thank you for coming early. We've so much to do - the Borgin case meant that everything was left to the last minute-"

"I don't mind," said Lilith. Most of the parties she attended were catered and well-organised, with none of the chaos she'd witnessed downstairs. Any dramas were concealed from the guests. This looked far more interesting.

Hermione led her downstairs, into the large kitchen. Like the rest of the house, it was new and well-built, but covered in clutter. A group of women were clustered around the bench and kitchen table, where a space had been cleared for bowls and food.

"Where's Molly?" Hermione asked.

"Outside," answered a woman with curly brown hair, "chivvying Charlie and Percy about the barbecue, and inspecting Fred and George's lights."

"Right. Lilith, this is Penelope." She quickly introduced the other women: Angelina, Marie and Diane. "Where's Fleur?"

Angelina rolled her eyes. "Preening."

"Never mind," said Penelope. "Too many cooks and all. Lilith, can you mix some drinks for the children?"

Unaccustomed to the company of large numbers of grown women, Lilith stayed quiet and listened as the Weasley daughters-in-law caught up on each other's lives. A familiar name caught her ear, and she realised that Penelope was the mother of her classmate, Steve.

"I swear, he gets more difficult every year," she was saying.

"Something to look forward to, then?" asked Angelina with a wry smile; she claimed possession of the bored eight-year-old who had slouched in to sample the cordials Lilith was mixing.

"I don't know if I'd say that." Penelope dropped her voice, and all the women, Lilith included, leaned in closer. "It's a bit … political."

"You're a Muggle-born," Hermione guessed.

"And Steve is the first half-blooded Weasley," said Penelope grimly.

"So?" asked Marie. "It's not like Percy would make a big deal of it - he wouldn't, would he? He doesn't seem like the type."

"Of course not. But Steve has developed a nasty inferiority complex, and guess who he blames?"

"Oh, Penelope," said Diane.

"It is a bit distressing. He won't listen to a word I say, and I know that's supposed to be normal for boys his age-"

"But you want to be certain that he'll start listening again when he's an adult," said Angelina.

"Precisely."

"Where does he pick these ideas up, anyway?" asked Diane, "what on earth are they teaching at-" She glanced at Lilith and stopped.

Hermione said, "I highly doubt Professor Snape could add Doctrines of Purity to the school curriculum without someone noticing. But he can hardly censor everyone Steve might come in contact with - and it's not unthinkable that he's developed this idea on his own."

"But how do I fix it?" demanded Penelope. "I can hardly put him under Imperius until he starts thinking the way I want."

"Oh, I don't know," said Angelina, "I wouldn't mind putting Fred under Imperius, sometimes. Just so he'd behave like an adult once in a while." She grinned at Diane. "Just you wait until you and George are expecting. You'll be eating and thinking for two."

"Wonderful," Diane sighed.

"Dennis has gone with Ron to get the drinks, hasn't he?" asked Hermione, carrying a bowlful of something white and squishy to the bench.

"I think so," said Marie.

"Good. Angelina, can you give me a hand? I need to get this calamari into the marinade before they get back." To Lilith, she added in a low voice, "Dennis has Views on the consumption of certain forms of marine life."

"I'm sorry?"

"It's a long story," said Ron, wandering in with a crate of drinks. "Don't worry, Dennis is outside, doing the lights."

"Oh, good." The conversation turned to other matters, people and events that Lilith didn't know. It was strangely comforting, to know that there was a world outside her father's house, and people who thought of matters beyond rules and restrictions. Lilith concealed her smile behind a curtain of hair, and slipped away to change.

Upstairs, in the privacy of the guest bedroom, she stared at her reflection in the mirror.

"Well," said the mirror helpfully, "they say candlelight has a marvellously softening effect."

"Thanks."

Her favourite dress had long lace sleeves, and dozens of tiny buttons in the back, charmed to do themselves up. The fabric was itchy, and the calf-length skirt was too hot for the unnatural weather, but it made her look dramatic and interesting, as opposed to merely gangly and ugly. Her buttoned Victorian boots pinched her heels and toes, but they were the only things that suited the dress.

A cry went up downstairs. A glance out the window revealed that the crowd in the backyard had swollen since she'd started changing, and Potter had just arrived. Which meant that when she went downstairs, all eyes would be on him and away from her.

She left her hair down, dramatically outlined her eyes with makeup, and slipped downstairs.

***

Harry made his way through the throngs of well-wishers, seeking Lilith. To their credit, Ron and Hermione had invited no one he didn't know and like, but so many of the people around him seemed more acquaintance than friend.

Or maybe you made them into that.

He searched for a pair of familiar dark eyes as the sun went down.

"Harry, dear!"

He paused in his search long enough to give Molly Weasley a hug and a kiss on the cheek. "Great party, Molly. I can't believe Ron and Hermione talked you into having it here."

"Oh, Harry, you're part of the family, you know that." She gave him a searching look, and he wondered how to respond. In the end, he settled for kissing her again. Over her shoulder, he could see Lilith leaning against the doorway. Harry moved towards her, leading Molly with him.

"I didn't expect to find you here," he said.

She smiled. "You weren't supposed to expect anyone here."

Harry shrugged as Molly scolded him, before she turned to Lilith.

"I knew you were coming," she said. "Ron let me know a few days ago. You poor thing, you must be having a dreadful summer…"

She was steering Lilith ruthlessly towards the refreshment table, her determined maternalism leaving Harry no opportunity to say more.

He went to get a drink.

"All right, Harry?"

He sighed. "Hullo, Colin."

Colin Creevey grabbed a drink of his own and followed Harry.

"Quite the party."

"Oh yeah." Harry forced a grin. "It was a real surprise."

"Yeah, right." Colin peered at the refreshment table. "I'm surprised to see Lilith Borgin, though." He gave Harry a sidelong look. "What does Snape have to say about all this?"

Harry eyed the camera around Colin's neck. "Are you here professionally, then?"

"Just curious."

"Right."

"Look, Harry, I'm a political journalist. I wouldn't touch a tabloid with a ten-foot-pole. And I'd love a comment from Harry Potter on the Borgin case as a whole, but I'm not going to waste my time pushing you at your own birthday party. I'm just curious."

Harry shrugged.

"I don't pretend to know Snape's mind."

"Right then."

"Still," a reckless idea took hold of Harry, and he dropped his voice, "if you really want a meaty political article…"

Colin's eyes gleamed. "Go on."

"This Borgin case has made me notice a lot of problems with the way the College of Aurors is run these days. There's a lot of bureaucracy, a lot of pointless rules that stop us from doing our jobs properly. And no one is brave enough to discuss it out loud."

"But you'll blow the whistle, Harry?" There was a gleam of the old hero-worship in Colin's eyes.

"Well, no. In fact, I don't want my name associated with this in any way."

"Oh, come on, Harry-"

"Look, this is my career on the line, okay? We're not supposed to talk to the media."

Colin scowled. "I think you're missing the point."

"What, to get you the kudos of bagging an interview with me? I think we have a different idea of what the point is."

"If you like. Personally, I think you just want to play Deep Throat."

"I'm sure that doesn't mean what I think it does. Or at least, I hope not."

"Modern American history. Muggle history, more like. An old girlfriend of mine is something of an expert." He grinned. "You'd like her, actually."

Harry sipped his beer. "Are you trying to set me up with your ex-girlfriend, Colin?"

"Guilty. Come on, Harry." He waited for Colin to say, Time to buck up and move on, but instead he said, "you two have a lot in common. She's very athletic and has a medal for bravery. Saved some kids from a gunman a few years back."

It's not meant to be an insult, Harry told himself. After all, Colin's father had remarried quickly after his wife's death; Harry had spent a week in that working class home, hiding from Voldemort when he was sixteen. It had been a happy, comfortable family, and Colin's stepmother had been a damn sight more maternal than, say, Aunt Petunia.

He laughed at that thought, and decided to accept the favour for what it was. "Yeah. Whatever. Set us up." A friendly evening with an adult woman was probably just what he needed.

"Great, then." They watched the party in friendly silence, Harry drinking while Colin snapped pictures of the guests. Seamus Finnegan was cutting a fine figure on the dance floor, and the Weasley twins were the centre of attention.

They might have been in the Gryffindor common room, but for the children underfoot. This wasn't one of the drunken blow-outs of House legend, this was a family party.

Across the yard, Ron wrapped his arms around Hermione, proudly showing off their near-imperceptible bump to Dean. Harry suppressed a stirring of jealousy, but he was keenly aware of the gulf between them: Ron and Hermione were starting a family, while he went on a blind date with Colin Creevey's ex and entertained an unwanted attraction to a teenage girl.

He was going to be the sort of godfather who became a mortal embarrassment to his charges.

Oh well, he thought, catching sight of Remus and Sirius, at least the company was good. He bid Colin goodbye and set off after them.

"You're looking well," said Remus, "considering."

"Considering?"

"Well, I thought Severus was going to kill you when he saw those Polyjuiced photos in Wizard!."

"Feed your testicles to the giant squid, at least," Sirius added.

"He talked Enid into assigning me away from his household. No mutilation necessary."

"Good," said Sirius. "I rather liked Lilith, but I can't say I was happy at the thought of you spending a lot of time with Snape."

"What, afraid he'll be a bad influence? Don't bother."

"Where's Enid, by the way?" Sirius asked. "I've seen the rest of the Coterie here - a bit slack, that. Would never have happened under the old Minstry."

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?" Harry asked rhetorically. "Enid's in Oxford. I saw her this afternoon."

Remus and Sirius exchanged an amused look, which Harry decided to ignore. He scanned the crowd for Lilith, and hoped he wasn't being too obvious.

***

Ron found Dennis contemplating a pastry with the wariness of a man who had spent two years sharing a common room with Fred and George.

"Don't eat that," he warned.

"Why, what does it do?"

"Nothing. But Penelope made it, and she's terrible with desserts."

"Thanks." Dennis selected something else, and Ron watched in silent amusement as he turned into a giant teddy bear.

"Sorry," he said when Dennis was returned to his natural state. "I probably should have mentioned that the twins did all the others."

"What about the birthday cake?" asked Dennis with as much dignity as possible. "What will that do to your hapless guests?"

"Absolutely nothing." They moved away from the food table, and the amused gazes of other guests. The best and brightest of the College of Aurors, that's us. Well, me. If anyone asks, we'll tell 'em that Dennis is the mascot. "The twins wanted to charm it to look like a naked Veela, but Mum put her foot down, and anyway, we did that for his stag night."

"So this is life with the Weasleys. A sordid world of naked Veelas and giant teddy bears. You know, I always secretly wished that I was part of your family."

"Well, that's-"

"But I think I'm finally over it."

"Um. Thanks." Ron sipped his beer and decided that turnabout was fair play. "So, what's this I hear about you and Marion?"

He was rewarded with a blush. "Nothing. Much."

"Nothing? So … you're not taking a quiet little seaside holiday together once this is all finished?"

"Who told you that?"

"Marion."

"All right, yes. We're going away together."

"I knew it! Hah, made you tell me! Dunno what they were teaching when you became an Auror, Dennis. What if I'd been an enemy under Polyjuice, asking questions about our current projects?"

"Well, I'd have been inclined to wonder why Ron Weasley, who usually knows more about these things than I do, would be asking questions. Especially when the current project is right over there." He pointed over to the apple orchard where Ron and his family had once played pick-up Quidditch. Lilith was having what looked like a verbal sparring match with Steve.

"Well, that's… all very reasonable. And I think you and Marion will make a very cute couple."

"Thanks."

"Not that I approve of office romances, mind. But I won't tell Enid if you won't."

"Thank you."

"And this seaside idea is just perfect. It'll be a great opportunity."

"Tha - wait, opportunity for what?"

"For Marion to save you from drowning, of course. That is your thing, isn't it?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Ron grinned. "So you and the giant squid…"

"Just friends."

"And those rumours about a mermaid in your seventh year?"

"Complete fabrication. Except for most of it."

"You can't deny that Jocasta Kostakeidis gave you a Love Potion while she was fishing you out of the sea."

"Why deny it? You were there. Although in my defence, we hadn't realised what a threat she was at the time."

"True. But still, there's a pattern."

"That's hardly a pattern," Dennis muttered. "I mean, for all you know, I've had loads of relationships that didn't involve water at all."

"Really?"

"Well, two."

Ron shook his head. "I don't know, Dennis. I think you need to find yourself a nice lifeguard and settle down."

Dennis chose to ignore this, possibly wisely, since Ron could think of an endless supply of variations on the theme. They made their way over to Dennis's brother, who snapped their photos, looking deeply happy with himself.

"What have you done?" Dennis asked.

"Reintroduced the Boy Who Lived into the great mating game."

While Ron deciphered this, Dennis said, "You set him up on a date?"

"Yup." Colin's eyes shone with wicked glee, prompting Dennis to ask, "What's the catch?"

"Well, she's a Muggle."

"That won't bother Harry," Ron pointed out.

"She's a Muggle journalist."

"Colin!" snapped Dennis and Ron together.

He laughed. "You won't tell him, will you? I didn't realise what I was doing until it was arranged."

"I don't even know why you felt like setting Harry up at all," Ron said. "He hasn't shown the slightest bit of interest-"

"It was his idea."

"Oh. Well." That was a bit odd, Ron thought, that Harry shouldn't even mention that he was thinking of returning from the social limbo of the last couple of years. But then, to do so would be to admit that he was over Ginny's death, and that wasn't necessarily the sort of thing he'd want to admit to Ginny's brother.

Anyway, we'd both know it was a lie.

"That's good, I suppose," Ron said. "Good for him to get out a bit … and meet good people…"

As if she sensed his bewilderment from the other side of the yard, Hermione approached. "Hello, Colin," she said cheerfully, linking her arm through Ron's. "What's happening?"

"Harry has a date," Ron said. "I mean, he's let Colin here set him up. With a Muggle journalist."

"How interesting." Hermione grinned, though Ron could see the curiosity burning in her eyes. "I'll have to interrogate him about this later. In the meantime, Colin, have I inflicted my pregnancy stories on you yet?"

In other circumstances, Ron might have felt sorry for Colin.

***

Lilith was unaccustomed to being mothered, and she slipped away from Molly Weasley as soon as the older woman was distracted. She lingered on the fringe of the crowd, watching Harry move through the people clamouring for his attention. She wondered if his desire to be elsewhere was obvious to anyone else.

"Borgin."

Lilith turned, and immediately wished she hadn't. Steve Weasley smirked at her over a bottle of Butterbeer.

"Didn't expect to find you here," he said, "queen of the tabloids and all."

She scowled, and he laughed. "Relax. Everyone here knows it's a heap of shit. This happens to Harry all the time." He frowned. "I remember when Aunt Ginny died. I was at school … I guess you were, too. We developed a pretty thick skin."

"I remember," said Lilith. Cautiously she asked, "did you know your aunt well, then?"

"Rather. She was pretty nice. And Harry was a lot more fun when she was alive." He scowled, took a swig from his Butterbeer and offered it to Lilith. She took a drink and choked.

"What in Hecate's name is in there?"

"I got into Grandad's Firewhisky."

"It's awful."

"I know. Want more?"

"No … all right." It was better on the second mouthful, or maybe she was just ready for it.

Steve led her further away from the house, to an orchard of withered apple trees.

"So," he said, "are you really a pawn in your father's plot to seduce Harry into the Dark Order?"

"Are you really trying to be the most obnoxious person on the face of the earth?"

"Yes. But only because it annoys my dad."

"Anyway, if I were a pawn, I wouldn't even know it."

"Maybe you're not a pawn, then. Maybe you and your dad are in it together." Lilith bristled, and he laughed. "Nah. If Snape were evil, school would be a lot more interesting. Though my dad reckons it's just a matter of time … once you turn to the Dark, you always want to go back."

Lilith stood up. "I don't have to listen to this."

"No, wait," he grabbed her arm. "You shouldn't be so sensitive. People say stuff like that all the time." He smirked. "Don't you read the papers?"

"I'm getting rather sick of hearing what people have to say." Lilith swallowed. "And I'm not looking forward to going back to school."

"Why not? People talk about you all the time anyway. Everyone knows about you."

"Oh? And what do they think they know?" The iciness in her voice was worthy of her father.

"That you're the Dementor Baby. That your parents were Death Eaters, and that the other Slytherins are scared of you. And that you're always sick."

"I get migraines."

"There you are." He drank. "And everyone knows you know the Dark Arts."

"So if you know all that," said Lilith, "why are you out here, tempting fate and making me angry?"

"Dunno. Guess I'm tired of spending time with my sisters. And you're the only other interesting person here."

"I think you overestimate yourself," Lilith said. She paused. "You think I'm interesting?"

"You're not as boring as my family. You know stuff."

"The Dark Arts."

"Well, yeah." He studied her. "Could you teach me?"

Lilith recoiled. "Do I look like I want to teach you?"

"Not hardly."

"Anyway, I can't do much. I've just read a lot." He grinned at this revelation, and she scowled. "Anyway, what do you want to learn the Dark Arts for? Looks to me like you have everything in the world."

"Yeah, like a boring dad and a Mudblood mother, and a heap of sisters. And the others, the fellows at school, they're always going on about how I'm the first half-blood Weasley.

"Simon Leach is a half-blood. His father was the first non-Pure-blood Minister."

"He's all right. The others are-" There was evidently no word to describe the other Gryffindor boys, and Weasley fell silent, brooding. Lilith watched him covertly. Her uncle had often lectured her about purity of blood, and a wizard or witch's duty to the family. Once, known half-bloods had been killed at birth, if not sooner. There were Dark spells that called for the skin of an infant half-blood; the only reason, her uncle Janus had said, that such a child would be willingly conceived.

Her father never spoke openly about the Doctrines of Purity, and the false philosophies which had once led him to become a Death Eater. But she had once worked up the courage to question Aunt Arabella, and had received a simple reply: "Pure blood? Load of bollocks. No such thing these days, whatever people might say."

"Harry Potter's mother was a Muggle-born," Lilith said.

"He doesn't count. The world just makes new rules for him." Steve scowled. "You don't know what it's like. Being the first half-blood in the family."

"You're talking rubbish. We're all half-bloods."

"Thought your parents were Pure-bloods. You-Know-Who thought so, too."

"Voldemort was wrong." Something stirred inside her as she said this, and she shivered. "He was a fool. And he paid for it."

"Yeah," said Steve. "I guess he did."

She shivered again.

"You cold?" he asked.

"On a night like this? No." Lilith wrapped her arms around herself and tried to stop shaking.

"Here," Steve said, and threw his summer cloak over her shoulders. Then he paused, leaned forward, and planted a kiss on her lips. He tasted like Butterbeer and Firewhisky, he was all together too sloppy, and the hands he wrapped around her were unpleasantly sweaty. But there was something, something in the force of his mouth on hers that made her gasp and kiss him back.

She didn't want him, she realised, but she wanted. She wanted very much.

It wasn't enough.

She ended the kiss and stood up, feeling sick. He made a grab for her, but she moved, leaving him staring at her with a kind of possessive dislike in his face.

"Don't ever touch me again," she said, shaking madly and throwing his cloak away. "Don't even come near me."

"Borgin-"

"You won't even call me by my first name," she hissed, turning and stumbling back towards the house.

She didn't see the branch until she'd tripped over it, but strong hands caught her, and she looked up into a pair of worried green eyes.

"Lilith?" said Harry, "what's wrong? What happened?"

She opened her mouth, but no words came.

***

He was going to kill Steve Weasley. Slowly and painfully. And then he was going to cut the body up into little pieces and feed it to one of Arabella Figg's Kneazles.

Come to think of it, Arabella and Snape would probably help him.

The worst part was that Lilith wouldn't cry. Her stoicism seemed unnatural and almost painful to watch. She simply sat on Molly and Arthur's couch and stared at her hands. She'd pulled away from Molly's hug and allowed only Harry to remain with her, while the party droned on outside.

"I feel so humiliated," she said eventually.

"So does Steve, I imagine."

Percy had dragged his son home, barely restraining his fury. The party was beginning to wind down, but enough people remained that the story was no doubt already halfway across England.

If Lilith weren't involved, Harry would have judged it a just punishment.

"He's in trouble. The Weasleys don't like it when one of their boys makes a girl cry." He tried for weak humour. "Tarnishes that chivalric Gryffindor image."

"Chivalry is dead."

"Okay, he was obviously insensitive-" and Harry wasn't at all thrilled that Steve was apparently willing to try his luck with a girl he didn't even like, "but he-"

"You don't understand. The things he was saying - he knows - he thinks I know the Dark Arts. He asked about it, and said some stuff about purity of blood…" A single tear trickled down her cheek, leaving a streak of makeup. "He only wanted me because I'm a Pure-blood."

Harry scowled. The Kneazles would be too good for Steve. He stood up.

"I'm going to have a little talk with that boy."

"No." She grabbed his hand. "Don't go."

"We'll have to leave soon."

"I know. I just - I just don't want to see my father yet. He'll know what happened."

"Will he?"

"He always knows." She sighed. "I never realised what people said about him. That they wait for him to turn back to the Dark. Vultures."

"Not everyone."

"Really."

Harry knelt down and looked up into her face. "Nothing would surprise me more than Snape turning back to the Dark Arts. He might walk a fine line, but I've learnt to trust him."

The tension in her hands eased slightly. "You truly believe that?"

"Yes. There's nothing for him down that road. Nothing but death."

Lilith shuddered. Harry slipped one hand out from under hers and rubbed her arm.

"Look," he said, "about your father. We had a talk this morning."

She became wary. "Go on."

"He's asked me to leave you alone. Not just with the case, though that's part of it…"

"He has no right," she spat, "no reason."

"He has every right. He's your father. And as for reason … my friends tend to become targets."

"And I can't defend myself," she said bitterly. "Because I'm too young."

"I'm sorry. I don't like it, but he's right. And then there's the tabloids-"

"I don't care."

"Liar."

She paused. "I care. But I wouldn't mind so much if I had a friend - I don't have friends, you see, not really. So people would talk - they've done so since you were a baby."

Harry watched their fingers entwine, and wished … he didn't know what he was wishing. That he was a different man, younger, less damaged, able to save her … able to look at her without wanting to destroy her…

"I'm sorry," he said. "But I won't go against your father in this."

"Why not? Nothing's ever stopped you before."

"No … but he's right." The memory of Ginny's body rose in his mind. "I won't put you in danger."

Lilith scowled, looking very much like her father. Harry stood up, releasing her hands.

"I'll get Ron and Hermione to take you home," he said.

"Very well, then."

Harry reached down, almost brushing her hair. "Goodbye, Lilith."

Her eyes were cold, furious and desperate.

Harry walked away before his nerve failed.

Most of the guests had gone, returned to tuck children into beds and prepare for work the next day. George and Diane were cleaning up, assisted by Arthur. Remus and Sirius were lingering in conversation with Ron and Hermione.

"Can you take Lilith home?" Harry asked Ron, retrieving his cloak from a chair. Grimly, he threw it around his shoulders. "I need a word with Steve."

Percy and Penelope lived in a comfortable house on the outskirts of London. Harry stormed out of the Apparition Parlour and upstairs, sweeping past Penelope and the girls without a word. Steve and Percy were in the messy bedroom at the top of the stairs. Harry pushed Percy aside, grabbed Steve by the collar and threw him against a wall.

"So," he snarled, "you want to know about the Dark Arts."

Steve choked, and Harry tightened his grip around the boy's collar.

"Were you really out to learn about Darkness, Steve, or were you just playing with a girl's mind?"

"Harry," Percy began.

"Shut up, Percy." He returned his attention to the boy. "You want to be a Dark wizard, then? You want to see the Dark Arts in action?" Harry drew his wand and pressed it against Steve's neck. He could feel the energy coursing through him; he had to fight to restrain himself. He was out of practice at handling this; he would pay for it later. But for now, all he had to do was ride the wave. Steve's eyes were huge; he looked like a scared child, not a sulky adolescent. "Let me give you a lesson…"

"Harry," Steve gasped, "Uncle Harry, please…"

Harry froze.

It had been so long since anyone had called him that.

Percy leaned forward and plucked the wand from his unresisting hand.

"Steve is my son," he said. "I'll deal with this. It's not your concern."

Harry was shaking uncontrollably as Percy pushed him toward the stairs. He made his way down unseeing, and wondered what was happening to him.

"Harry?"

"Penelope."

Her eyes were cool. "I think you've done enough here. Go home."

"I'm sorry-"

"Go