A Muggle in Wizard's Clothing

By clare009

Disclaimer: Harry Potter's universe and all it contains is the brainchild and property of JK Rowlings. No infringement or disrespect is intended.

Rating: PG13

Genre: A Severus Snape fic. romance/humour/drama/action/adventure...

Chapter 4: A Matter of Trust

Summary: With the question of the Muggle murders fresh in everyone's mind, who will believe Snape when he doubts himself.

She remained in her chair for a long time after the hall had emptied. The students had left in stoical silence - only a handful like Malfoy with enough gall to show their elation at the headmaster's news. It seemed that security at Hogwarts would now be stepped up several notches, and the fear of what could happen was creating more paranoia than if Voldemort himself were at the gates. But, Lilian thought that to let fear rule your actions was bad judgement, and so she set to thinking, alone in the cavernous room, about everything that had happened in the past few days.

Lilian knew that she was no expert on the matter, but she wondered if Voldemort had anything to do with the Muggle murders at all. With her mouth compressed into a thin line and her eyes narrowed against tears, she realised that her money was on someone a lot closer to home; a lot closer to her...

The look on his face when he had heard the news - it wasn't so much shock or horror as pain and guilt. And then the way he had literally fled the hall before anyone could see him - but she had seen him.

I thought that deep down under all that cynicism and pride was a man of worth... But they had all been duped by Snape, even Dumbledore.

Thinking about her grandfather made Lilian sit up. She had to tell him everything. Before the news of the murders, she had kept the information about the state she had found Snape in the previous night to herself. She wanted him to be able to tell her the truth in his own time, but now she realised why that would never happen; he had been leading her on. With bitterness she knew that this was her major fault - her inability to realise true deceit and her Muggle susceptibility to it. Dumbledore had to know the facts, however much it would pain her to say them and him to hear them.

Lilian finally moved out of the Great Hall in the direction of the headmaster's office, her speed increasing with every step. Why Snape would want to take her in was something she couldn't guess. Maybe he sensed her closeness to Dumbledore and thought he could twist that to get at the headmaster... He's a spy for the Dark Lord! That was the only thing that would explain everything - Snape was working for Voldemort, and in so doing, sold the confidences of her grandfather to the enemy.

The urgency of the situation struck her - Snape was a dangerous man, and he was trying to play a very clever game. She paled when she thought of the information she had given him - he knows I'm a Muggle! What else does he know?

She stopped in her tracks. I let him touch me...

The thought appalled her and excited her at the same time, and her breathing became shallow. She remembered the way his lips had felt against hers - warm, gentle, even. And when he had cried onto her shoulder - had that been an act of contrition, or just an act? Surely he wasn't capable of what she suspected him of?

But then she recalled how murderous he had been in his classroom and his cold words to her in the corridor. It was enough to set her feet going again.

The portal to Dumbledore's tower hastened open as she barged her way through and up the timeworn steps. She burst into the headmaster's office, her mind and her emotions in an uproar and her breath ragged. She had long since lost the ability for any rational thought and so, without taking time to calm herself, she burst out, "It's Snape, Grandfather. He murdered those people in the south."

Dumbledore, who was seated behind his desk, looked up over his spectacles with some surprise at his granddaughter and coughed gently. Without saying a word, his eyes slid off hers and in the direction of the window, where a figure was leaning.

Lilian's hand flew to her mouth as she realised her mistake could have been a very bad one.

The man at the window grinned at her and both his eyes focused on her in a way that always made her squirm. "Hello, dearie. Not a kiss for your ol' Uncle Moody, eh?" He patted the rough skin of his cheek with a calloused finger.

Swallowing to still her pounding heart and gain control of herself, Lilian walked over to Professor Moody. "You're not my Uncle, Alastor," she said, smoothly pecking his cheek.

"Don't think I don't know that, my girl." His grin was a bit lecherous. "You've grown I see, sideways as well as up." He patted her buttocks for emphasis.

"Alastor..." Her throat emitted a low growl that wasn't at all threatening. "If you weren't such a close friend of my grandfather's you would be regretting the use of your hand right now."

Moody chuckled. "Didn't I teach you everything you know, girl? You wouldn't stand a chance against me."

Smiling sweetly, Lilian acquiesced. "Of course, Uncle." Then, before Moody knew what was happening, she brought her knee up and struck him neatly in the groin. The scraggly man dropped to his knee in front of her while his good eye bulged in its socket. "Good to see you haven't lost your reflexes, my dear," he wheezed while the young woman stood over him with a glint of triumph in her eyes. "Although it appears you have lost your reason."

Lilian frowned. "What do you mean?"

As Moody winced and struggled to stand with his wooden leg, Dumbledore rose from his chair and said, "He's talking about Severus."

Lilian swung around to face him and found that her cheeks were warm, "Professor Snape is the perpetrator, Grandfather. I know it." She was calmer now, but her words were edged with anxiety.

Moody came up behind her, "Tsk, tsk - how easily you forget my tuition. How do you know it? Were you there? Did you watch him throttle the life breath from their lungs with his own bare hands? Did you see the psychopathic glow in his eyes as he ripped their innards outward and desecrated their bodies?"

"Is that how they were killed?"

"No, no!" Moody waved his arms. "I'm just painting a scene, damn it! What I'm trying to get at is that you can't know anything for certain unless you actually witnessed it, and even then you could doubt your own senses. Nothing is absolute!"

Lilian walked over to the window where Moody had just been leaning. "Thanks for the philosophy lesson, but if that were the case, then we'd all be living in anarchy."

"And I say we already are," Moody retorted.

Dumbledore sighed, and both Lilian and Moody were startled to see how weary he looked. "This is all very fascinating, and I would love to watch you debate the finer points at some other, less fraught time."

Lilian suddenly realised that her grandfather was an old man, and perhaps not as invincible as she would like to believe. She rushed over to him, throwing an annoyed look at Moody. "I'm sorry, Grandfather." Putting a hand on his shoulder she looked up into his resolute blue eyes with ones that were strikingly similar. "But, I can't deny the evidence in front of me. Severus Snape is not the man you think he is. I believe that not only did he kill those people, but he's also working for the Dark Lord."

"That's a serious accusation to make," Dumbledore said quietly. "Do you honestly believe Severus is capable of that?"

His words echoed the ones that Snape had said to her not several hours ago. Biting her lip, Lilian was again unsure of how to answer. She didn't know.

"Of course he's bloody capable," Moody stuck his head between the grandfather and granddaughter. "You know as well as I do what a nasty piece of work Severus Snape is. And he's done worse before!" Lilian shivered at Moody's words and he nodded. "Oh yes, lass, far worse than do away with a few Muggle vagrants. You know the Death Eater stories, the real ones - the ones not made up to scare children, but the tales too ghastly to even contemplate, yet they haunt your subconscious nightmares... Well, he was one of them, wasn't he?" Moody turned and spat onto Dumbledore's carpet. "Our black-eyed boy was a Death Eater!"

Severus... Lilian couldn't help the pain that stabbed through her heart. Up to this point, she had still hoped that her intuition was wrong, but now she couldn't deny the truth about him anymore. She turned to her grandfather and quickly shut the pain away. "Is this true?" Her voice trembled.

"Yes, child, it's true," Dumbledore sighed. He raised his hand to touch her face, but she flinched away.

"You knew something as important as this yet you didn't tell me?" Lilian accused.

"I had hoped that Severus would tell you himself. But it seems that events beyond our control have -"

Lilian cut him off. "Events? Grandfather, he murdered innocent people! Muggles like me, who had no chance of defending themselves. Are you so blind to him that you refuse to see the evidence?" It was Dumbledore's sad look that finally caused hot tears to defy her and roll down her cheeks. She tried to blink them back, but they refused to let up - just another mark of her weakness.

Dumbledore did not say a word or make a move to comfort her, but Moody clapped a hand on her shoulder. "Get over yourself," he growled. "Snape may be bad to the bone, but, as much as I hate to admit it, there is no evidence that links him to the murders, or even to Voldemort. I may not like your granddad's view of the man, but for the last fourteen years, he's been as blameless as Harry Potter when it comes to serving the Dark. And believe me, I've been keeping my eye on him."

Shaking her head and rubbing her eyes, which were now red and puffy, Lilian said, "You obviously need another one, Alastor, because nobody knew where Snape was over the weekend and last night, he came in with blood on his hands. And that I did see."

Moody gave Lilian a strange, half-pitying look, then turned to Dumbledore with a silent question.

The old man nodded briefly, then spoke to Lilian in soothing, placating tones. "Let's have some tea, dear. I think we all need to calm down a bit, then we shall discuss this further."

She sniffed and nodded and let Dumbledore guide her over to a chair and pour a cup of the sweet warm beverage. As she sipped it, Moody limped back over to the window while Dumbledore sat down silently opposite her. The tea was very good. Lilian felt the tension leave her neck and shoulders with each sip. Gradually, the whole idea of Snape and murdered Muggles began to seem farfetched and her lips curved up in a smile. Severus wasn't evil. In truth, he was a hero. The smile turned to a lopsided grin as she began to think about how heroic Severus was. And his skin wasn't that sallow, either. His hair was shiny rather than oily, and perhaps the perpetual sneer was only intellectual pride and everyone knew the man had a right to be proud of his intellect. In fact, with a bit of spit and polish, he'd look like he just stepped out of a Regency romance novel and for some reason, the thought was quite inviting.

Lilian was so engrossed in her imagined Severus that she didn't hear her grandfather speak, "Somnus."

***

That night, there was another person who would have been glad for the spell. Snape sat in his wooden chair in the corner of his sparse room and stared at his unrumpled bed. The darkness obscured the haunted look in his eyes or the way his hands clenched and unclenched in the folds of an enchanted piece of fabric. Harry Potter's invisibility cloak, to be precise.

The boy's a fool, Snape thought. But, no less than I.

***

Moody looked up with his magical eye as Dumbledore quietly let himself back into his office. The battle-scarred Auror had been dozing off in a chair by the fire and his other eye was still closed, but nothing escaped his enchanted orb. Moody wheezed a bit, to let the headmaster know that he was cognisant and Dumbledore smiled faintly at him.

"Sometimes I really doubt your intellect, old friend," Moody said in his rough voice.

Dumbledore set about conjuring up some tea for both of them, but this time he made a pot without any special additives. Wordlessly, he handed a cup to the other man and sat down opposite him.

"Ta," said Moody. He cleared his throat and took a gulp of the steaming liquid. "Earl Grey?" Dumbledore nodded. "You know what I like. She's not going to be happy with you when she wakes up."

"Well, Alastor, I think you've grasped the fine art of understatement." The headmaster's whiskers twitched.

Moody's other eye snapped open and he levelled both at Dumbledore. "And you, old man, are slipping into senility. You put her to sleep, for crying out loud! You should have at least set her straight on some things. I agree she needed the Quietus Potion - the girl was starting to get hysterical - but why send her to la la land?"

"To be honest, I just don't have the energy to rationalise with her, right now," Dumbledore sighed a little. "She can be very stubborn, you know."

Moody leaned forward. "Like her grandmother," he said in chilling tones.

For an instant, Dumbledore's eyes became hard, the pupils narrowing to black dots on the pale blue irises. But just as suddenly, the look was gone, and replaced with weariness. "Just so," he said softly. "And, of course, I would not be able to tell her everything, Alastor."

With an arched eyebrow, Moody leaned back into his seat, gripping his tea cup with thick fingers. "Why not? She's not a child anymore - she deserves the truth."

Dumbledore contemplated the pattern of roses and thorns on his china teacup. The set had been a gift from Minerva, the woman did have wonderful taste. He gently took a sip of his tea and then set the cup down before facing Moody again. "My granddaughter," he said, "is like this teacup. It would not take much to break her."

Moody snorted. "You're not giving her much credit, Albus. Steel is more her mettle. You are part her heritage, aren't you?"

"Oh yes, she has courage enough. And shrewdness. But if she knew... That would make her vulnerable and she does not have the means to protect herself."

"We all know why she can't protect herself," muttered Moody.

For a while, they both remained silent, alternately drinking tea and staring into the fire that broke the quiet with irregular pops.

"What about Snape?" Moody asked. "What does he know?"

Dumbledore's eyes glinted and he stared past Moody's shoulder and into the shadowed corner. "More than he did before. You can show yourself, Severus."

Moody jumped. He was out of the chair and whirled around to stare into the bare corner that Dumbledore had focused on. "Bloody hell! Snape, I'm going to ring your scrawny little neck!" Blue veins bristled on Moody's face.

"You're getting old, Moody, your hearing's going along with the rest of you. You didn't even notice me enter the room," Snape's sultry voice floated through the air.

"And you look like you're applying for promotion to the undead. If I kill you now, you won't need to wait for the decomposition stage before we resurrect you."

"Sit down, Alastor," Dumbledore said in a low tone, but there was no mistaking the authority in his voice. Even Moody had to obey as he gripped the arms of his seat and glared at an empty patch of room.

"I'm not afraid of you, Moody," came a disembodied voice from the same corner, its intonations hinting at the sneer of the speaker's invisible lips.

Moody's face flushed, "Only a fool says he does not fear what he doesn't know. And you don't know me at all, you lily livered coward."

A seamless rift formed in the corner of the room to reveal, inch by inch, one Severus Snape. He stepped out of the pool of invisibility then stooped to pick up the vague piece of magical material that had kept him hidden. He wrapped it up carefully, then stowed it in the folds of his customary black robes. Taking his time deliberately, he smoothed down the front of his robes then walked over to the teapot to help himself to the extra cup and saucer that Dumbledore had previously set out.

Shaking his head in disbelief, Moody slouched back into his chair and muttered a few crude phrases under his breath. Dumbledore merely raised an eyebrow and turned to the Potion's Master. "Whatever made you confiscate Harry Potter's Invisibility Cloak, Severus? Was the boy skulking about in your private sanctum?"

Snape sniffed at his tea and made a face. "Why does this concoction have to be so bland?" He took a gulp then turned to address Dumbledore: "The boy found it in his heart to loan it to me for the evening."

Moody threw a startled look at him and there was genuine surprise on Dumbledore's face. "That's rather charitable," the headmaster said.

Twisting his lips into a sardonic smile, Snape said, "Quite. However, I do believe that Mister Potter will - no doubt - take the greatest pleasure in avenging his Precious should anything happen to it in my company."

"Actually, Severus, I was referring to you, not Harry," Dumbledore said with a straight face.

Snape's eyes widened for an instant, but then settled back into their usual narrow slits. "We have agreed to a truce for the moment," he muttered.

Dumbledore nodded and pointed to a narrow, hard-backed chair. "Have a seat. Would you like some sour worms?" Dumbledore picked up a bowl that had been sitting empty beside his seat. When he offered it to Snape, however, it was overflowing with colourful confectionery. Obediently, Snape picked out a soft, orange and pink striped 'worm' covered with icing sugar, and popped it into his mouth. The headmaster turned to his friend. "Alastor, perhaps you and I should continue our conversation at a more convenient hour. I do believe that Severus wishes to tell me something, and he would rather not do so in your presence."

"Fine by me." Moody said, giving Snape a nasty glare with his magical eye. He threw the remains of his tea down his throat and stood. "I'll check on Lilian in the morning," he said, his voice surprisingly soft for all its harshness. Snape started at the mention of her name, but then quickly covered the reaction by reaching for another of the sour sweets. However, both Moody and Dumbledore had not missed the action. The headmaster smiled while Moody raised an eyebrow at him. "I hope you know what you're doing, old friend," he said before he limped over to the door and left Snape and Dumbledore alone.

***

Once Moody had left, Dumbledore turned to Snape with a saddened expression on his face. Snape hated that look, because it meant he had disappointed the old man and for some reason, that always pained him. He shifted in his chair, and anybody would have thought that the self-assured Potions' Master was uneasy.

"Why the subterfuge, Severus?" Dumbledore said. "What did you think you could gain by hiding in my office like this?"

No beating around the bush, then, thought Snape. Dumbledore was usually either extremely direct or bafflingly vague. He used both techniques to good effect. "Perhaps, Headmaster, since you were so quick to discern my being here, you could tell me what my reasons were, as well." Although his words sounded sarcastic, they were laced with genuine respect for Dumbledore and bitterness towards himself.

Dumbldore cocked his head. "Do you believe that I no longer have reason to trust you, my boy?"

Snape was silent. The headmaster's simple question was rhetorical; Snape's fears were completely ungrounded. He felt shame colour his pale cheeks. He really wanted to let go and tell the old wizard everything - as he had done so many times in the past. But the fear was always there that this time, it would be too much for Dumbledore and he would reject Snape once and for all.

As much as he hated to admit it, Snape needed Dumbledore. He was the only person who had ever bothered to care for him, and, as pathetic as it sounded, Snape craved that more than the Order of Merlin. His need for the reassurance that he was okay, a worthwhile person in the eyes of someone as honourable as Dumbledore, was greater than air. But, Snape's conviction that he was completely unlovable, kept even the headmaster from breaching his defences.

Yet, Snape thought, I cried like a baby in Lilian's arms. Aloud, he said, "So, she's your granddaughter? It explains a lot."

"I'm surprised you didn't guess that already. The resemblance is quite striking, don't you think?" Dumbledore's blue eyes twinkled, but Snape knew that the headmaster would not give up so easily. He would have the truth out before either of them left the room.

"She doesn't have your long, white whiskers, Albus," Snape said with the hint of a smile.

Dumbledore chuckled. "That's a relief."

Feeling slightly more relaxed, Snape reached over for another one of the tangy sweets that Dumbledore had once discovered he had a penchant for. He appreciated the harmless look of the things, with their sinuous colours. The first deceptive taste was always the sweet sugar coating, but when you bit into the squishy 'worm', the sharp, sour flavour was released and shocked you into wakefulness. They were glorious. Snape leaned back against the hard chair and folded his arms. "She does have your eyes, though. They look right through you," he said, casually.

Matching Snape's nonchalant demeanour, Dumbledore took a long, exquisite sip from his tea. "Do you think she's pretty?"

Snape's half-lidded eyes flew open. "What is that supposed to mean?" He growled.

"I just wanted your opinion, Severus. I am rather biased, you know," Dumbledore said mildly. "So, do you?"

Refusing to look at Dumbledore, Snape toyed with a half-eaten worm in his teeth. "She's passable."

"Oh," sniffed Dumbledore. He looked slightly disappointed. "Is it her nose? A bit too sharp, perhaps?"

"Her nose is fine."

"Possibly her hair, then? It gets into such a tangle sometimes. I've offered to put a straightening charm on it, but she refused."

Snape looked up. "Don't you dare do that to her hair." The first time he had seen her, the curls and ringlets had fascinated him with the way they caught the light. He had found himself staring at her when he shouldn't have...

"Hmm," Dumbledore said in puzzlement. "I've always thought there was nothing wrong with her figure, but perhaps that's where the problem lies..."

Having only seen Lilian in her loose green robes, Snape could not comment on her figure, but his mind went there anyway and he began to visualise the times he had caught the shape of a hip or the soft curve of a breast. In a certain light, he had once seen the indentation at the small of her back and could only guess how easily it would mould to the shape of his hand. He knew already how well her perfectly formed lips fit with his. His mind whirled at the memory of the stolen kiss. He hadn't even known why he had done it, only that she had completely besieged his senses - to the point where he thought he was bewitched, but when he found out that she couldn't possibly perform magic like that... It really had been something in him, truly from within himself, that had responded to her in that way. That, in itself, was magic.

With heightened colour, Snape stared at Dumbledore. "What are you trying to do, old man?"

The headmaster had not missed how Snape's eyes had glazed over and his breathing hastened. "I only want you to admit the truth."

"Fine. I'm attracted to her. Is that what you want to hear?" He viciously bit the head off another sour worm. To admit it was a revelation in itself. He couldn't point out what exactly made her so alluring to him - perhaps it was her youth, the seeming innocence that so sharply contrasted with his own jaded nature. But she wasn't a child. Her innocence had a sensuality that left him reeling, and the challenge in her eyes every time she looked at him... Nobody besides Dumbledore challenged Severus Snape unless they had a death wish - and that's where the real connection between the two lay. It was refreshing and strange.

"Well, it's a start. And, of course, attraction is a key part of marriage," Dumbledore said, patting his beard thoughtfully.

Snape choked on the worm. "What?"

Dumbledore frowned. "Don't spit. You heard me perfectly."

"I'm not sure I did. You want me to marry your granddaughter?" Snape looked appalled.

"I didn't say that exactly, Severus, but really, it's not that farfetched. You need a wife. She's of marriageable age. You're not completely repulsed by her."

"She, however, has come to a different conclusion about me, and, quite frankly, I don't blame her," muttered Snape. "You're insane, by the way. Moody was right. We'll book you into Meredith's Home for the Frail and Infirm at the next possible opportunity."

"Ha! That's what you think," said Dumbledore with a smile, "Meredith's barred me from that place, and the reasons have nothing to do with being frail and infirm."

Snape held up his hand. "I don't want to know."

"She doesn't hate you, you know." Dumbledore voice was soft..

"Yes, she does. She all but said it to my face the last time I saw her. It wasn't pleasant." For the first time that evening, Snape let his eyes reveal some of the turmoil he was feeling. "And she's right. You know me better than anyone. She needs someone far more worthy than me."

"No, Severus, she needs someone exactly like you. And I know her better than anyone."

Snape looked over at his old friend in amazement; his only friend. "You know, I want to believe you," he whispered. "Dumbledore, do you really trust me with your granddaughter's well being?"

The headmaster contemplated the younger man and Snape wondered what Dumbledore saw - was it a faded shell of a man who had spent too many years struggling with guilt and worse: the Dark's incessant lure? Dumbledore knew even that - how the battle simmered in his soul for all those years after he had turned away from Voldemort's call for the first time. Now, however, the battle had erupted into full-scale war, one that had had burst through to his skin with the Dark Mark when Voldemort had returned.

He shivered involuntarily, remembering how close he had been to Apparating to the Dark Lord's side that horrible day.

Dumbledore leaned over and placed a hand on Snape's shoulder. The touch did not make him recoil, rather it served to ease his tension. Blue eyes sought black, and conveyed all the world's assurance. "I would trust you with her life. With all our lives, Severus."

"Let's hope it won't come to that," Snape said. He was weary, but his mind had settled a little under the headmaster's gentle influence - as always. "You should know that I may have been involved with the Muggle murders."

Leaning back into his chair again, Dumbledore nodded. "You need to tell me everything you remember." Snape raised his eyebrows. He had expected moderate surprise, at least. "Don't worry, I knew about where you disappeared to, already. Who do you think picked you up on the side of the road?"

Snape blinked. "You?" He asked, incredulous.

"It was Moody," Dumbledore clarified. "I sent him to look for you, told him not to startle you, so he went in disguise." Dumbledore's words left Snape speechless. "Someone kidnapped you, Severus, and then made it look like you killed those people. It seems you have an enemy."

"Only one?" was Snape's bitter reply. "How do you know I really didn't kill them?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "I don't like repeating myself all the time. Sometimes you're worse than Longbottom when it comes to grasping a concept. Let's just take it as given that I don't believe you are capable - and make that enough for both of us." He looked at Snape for a long time until the Potions' Master nodded. "Good. Now, we have a riddle to solve. I'm not excluding Voldemort, but, quite frankly, this is far too subtle to be his style."

Snape nodded again and sighed. Dumbledore was right, Voldemort would never go to the trouble of framing him for a few worthless Muggle deaths and then have his memory erased. When the time was right, Voldemort would make sure everyone knew, in excruciating detail, that he was the driving force behind the terrorism.

***

It was dawn when Harry snuck out of the Griffyndor Tower. Fortunately, the Fat Lady didn't comment on his early exit, but he discovered that it wasn't that easy creeping around Hogwarts without his Invisibility Cloak. On his way from the tower to the dungeons, he had almost been caught twice: once by Filch, but there had been a handy tapestry to hide behind, and the second time by Trelawney. This was surprising since he thought she never left her tower except for meals - but when she suddenly materialised around a corner, Harry had put on his most woeful expression and pretended to be a vision of his own death. Trelawny had skulked off, muttering to herself while the boy sniggered.

But, in fact, Harry's Invisibility Cloak was the reason he was out of his room at such a premature hour. Snape had conned him into lending it with an outpouring of self-pity, and for a while, Harry was convinced he had done the right thing. He hadn't told Ron and Hermione - simply shrugged them off when they asked him where he had got to after Dumbledore's announcement, and then directed their conversation towards the matter of the murders and the implications for life at Hogwarts.

After dinner that evening, Harry had evaded his friends again. His first descent into the dungeons alone, Dumbledore's new security rules aside, had been much easier, though, because he had been taking the cloak to Snape, fool that he was. It was only when he had actually given the thing over, and the greasy haired Professor had thanked him, did Harry realise that he was quite suspicious as to Snape's true motives.

"I will inform the headmaster," he had said in his sibilant voice, "then I will go back to the south and track down the perpetrators." Snape had caressed the liquid folds of the cloak. "This trifle will be useful, Harry. Thank you."

Since when did Snape ever say thank you? Or for that matter, since when did he ever call Harry by his first name?

Leaving the cloak entwined in Snape's long fingers had been difficult. Letting him keep the thing was damn impossible. So Harry was on his way to retrieve it. Snape could go to hell.

Harry had decided on the direct approach. He was going to go directly to the door to Snape's office and knock.

Down in the deserted dungeon passageways, Harry didn't feel quite so brave. Snape's probably left already, he reasoned to himself, I might as well go back and wait for him to return - that's if he returns.

Harry stopped in front of the cold, iron door. On the other hand, I'm here already... He raised his hand to knock.

Soft footfalls on the stone floor made the boy look up. There was a light at the other end of the dark passage, and it was moving closer. Startled, Harry slunk back into the shadows. With his back pressed against a damp wall, he watched the light and its bearer approach the heavy door.

Harry felt a feather soft touch on his hand and jumped. It was a spider that had scurried down from its web and inadvertently landed on him. Forcing his breathing to return to normal, he watched as the light revealed a pale woman, her bare fleet slapping silently against the cold floor. Her hair glimmered bronze in the flickering light of the lantern she held.

"Miss Goldfind!" Harry whispered to himself as he sucked in his breath.

The Substitute teacher didn't even look in Harry's direction, so utterly focused was she on the door in front of her. He watched as she put her fingers out to grasp the handle and the door clicked open. She slipped inside Snape's office and shut the door behind her.

Harry, stunned, was not quite sure what to think - except that there was more going on than he realised.

Author's note: Thank you Yolanda for taking the time to beta read. Also, thanks to Nieke and all the others for the encouraging comments. This may look like a mushy snape romance, but there's more here than meets the eye.