It started out like any other day at Hogwarts. The students staggered in one by one or in small groups, gradually filling up the tables. The staff did likewise, smiling blearily or merely grunting until their first tea or coffee. Or several teas or coffees. The owls arrived with the mail, as usual, towards the end of the morning meal, so that letters and packages would not battle for space and attention with the food.

The first sign that the day would not be a normal one at Hogwarts was the owl that landed in front of Severus Snape. Not that the Potions instructor didn't get mail, it was just that his was more of the journal variety, or packages from apothecary stores. And though some of those did arrive in the morning run, most of the time Snape's mail was delivered to his office.

Professor Flitwick, who sat next to Snape, did notice that it was a letter and not a journal nor a package. That in itself caught his attention. But not enough to do more than note it and return to his conversation with Professor Lupin. Remus Lupin was once more filling the post of DADA along with that of Head of Gryffindor, since Minerva McGonagall had decided that being Deputy Headmistress required more of her time these days.

On Snape's other side, Professor Sprout was a little more interested, especially since she could see that the letter was addressed in a style that she associated with her grandmother, long spindly letters with small flourishes in the tails. But then she, too, turned to her other colleague, Minerva McGonagall, who was nattering about the latest problems between Gryffindor and Slytherin.

"You would think, Seraphina, now that all has settled down once more, that having fought side by side for victory, they would have learnt to ...

And it was at that point that matters deviated sharply from the normal.

Severus Snape spewed out his mouthful of coffee in a spray that dotted the pristine white tablecloth on the staff table and then he began to choke. Hunched over the table, he fought for breath as Flitwick leapt up onto his chair and, reaching over, tried to slap him on the back. Sprout pushed her chair back and did the same with greater effect than Flitwick.

Snape's gasping effort to breathe caught the students' attention. Some were horrified, others waited with macabre anticipation, remembering the day's test schedule in Potions, still others – a very few – began taking bets on whether the Potions instructor would die choking on breakfast when He- Who-Was-Gone-But-Still-Was-Not-To-Be-Named hadn't managed it.

But Snape proved invincible once more and suddenly managed to inhale and exhale successfully, thereby losing the students' interest.

"Are you all right, Severus?" Albus Dumbledore had stood wand at hand, ready to summon Madam Pomfrey had her presence been needed.

"No," gasped Snape, his voice roughened by his near-death experience. "Here."

And he held up the letter now scrunched in his hand. Dumbledore had to physically remove Snape's fingers one by one from the paper before he could read it.

The red of Snape's face receded slowly as Dumbledore's face went deathly pale. "Dear Merlin!" he exclaimed, loudly enough and with enough trepidation for the students nearest the staff table to turn their attention sharply back to the professors.

Snape nodded. "Albus, you can't allow her to come here," he uttered. "You know what she's like!"

Minerva McGonagall took the letter from the Headmaster's hand, worried by the expression of...well, horror, on his face. She settled her glasses on her nose properly so that she could read, loudly enough for all the staff who was now focused on her to hear. As she began, the noise in the hall also subsided.

"Severus,

In checking my annual diary, it has come to my notice that it has been some time since I last saw you.

I am certain that whatever reason you have had for not attending my last twenty-six Yule gatherings is, in your mind, quite valid, but there are matters that need discussing. To that end, I shall be arriving at Hogwarts this day.

You may inform Albus Dumbledore that there are matters of concern that I wish to discuss with him as well.

Your Great Grand Aunt..."

McGonagall squinted at the letter. "I can't make out the signature."

Dumbledore cleared his voice. "It's that of Morgan LeFey Slytherin."

Snape ignored the murmured gasps from some of his colleagues. "Albus, you must stop her."

Sprout and Flitwick exchanged looks of surprise. Snape sounded more intense than usual. The man who had faced the Dark Lord he'd betrayed with not a tremour, not a shiver, now actually sounded worried, well, almost...panic-stricken?

Dumbledore gulped audibly. "My dear boy, just how would you suggest I do that? When has anything stopped LeFey when she..." And he sat suddenly in Sprout's chair. "What on earth could she have to discuss with me?"

The high, formal doors to the Great Hall, not used except for very special occasions, suddenly swung open. All heads in the hall turned to see a tiny witch of indeterminate age appear in the middle of the entrance.

"Oh, no," groaned Snape.

"Too late," said Dumbledore, using the table for support as he found his feet.

The witch was dressed in robes that belonged to an earlier time. They were fitted in the bust and then flared out from the waist. The colour depended on how the light hit the material. Mostly it was dark, but it varied in a rainbow of purple hues, from the very darkest in the shadows to the light lavender on the bodice. In her hand, she held a staff, taller than she, which she seemed to be using to help her walk. It was only after she had passed by that watchers realized that her step was sure and steady.

On her head she wore a peaked hat with a fall of the same rainbowy purple that should have caught and held the eye but didn't. Instead, what caught everyone's attention were the dark violet eyes blazing with life and intelligence, set in the wrinkled, thin-lipped face that was ivoried with age.

She waited until all eyes were on her before she slowly strode up the centre aisle. Her sense of presence was such that as she passed, the students all rose to their feet. If her gaze fell on any student, the boys suddenly found themselves bowing and the girls curtseying. She accepted that as her due, deigning to acknowledge the gestures with a very small nod of her head.

She said nothing until she reached the front of the hall, where the Headmaster now stood. Most of the staff had joined him, even if they had no idea who the witch was, already aware of her immense power. Snape was the exception. He stood at his place at the table, his hands gripping the tablecloth that he had stained.

"Albus Dumbledore." Her voice should have been faint, old with age. Instead it resounded with authority.

Dumbledore bowed, a formal court bow. "Lady LeFey Slytherin de Monfort von Sonderburg Eiximeniç Aubanel de Malfoi Papadiamantopoulos Snape Moratin Scalfaro."

She smiled benignly at Dumbledore, holding out her hand. "Very good, Albus. I can always count on you to keep them all straight. Indeed, you are far better at that than I am."

The Headmaster accepted the compliment with an elegant bow and brushed his lips over the proffered hand. "It is indeed a pleasure to see you yet again, Milady."

She took her hand back with a disdainful and yet very ladylike snort, her voice rather dry. "Yes, of course, it is, Albus." She looked over the staff who suddenly, as had the students, either bowed or curtseyed. It was obvious from her frown that she was displeased about something. But then her eyes alit on the man standing apart and she nodded. "Severus."

"Milady." Said severely, as though mere minutes ago the man had not been choking on the news of her arrival.

She merely gave another of those small nods and turned back to the Headmaster. "I have sent my servants and my luggage up to the Founders' Suite."

"Yes, of course, Milady," said Dumbledore.

"My personal house elves will see to my meals and comfort."

"Yes, of course, Milady." Then Dumbledore, a little nervously, went on, "Will this be a long stay, Milady?" At her raised eyebrow, he added quickly. "I ask merely to know if we have time to prepare a proper feast, and I'm certain that members of the Ministry..."

She waved her small hand, dismissing the ideas. "Under no circumstances do I want anything out of the ordinary during my stay here. And I most certainly do not want to see or hear from anyone from the Ministry. I do not approve of the idiots that I find have taken over more and more of that organization."

"Then, may I inquire," Dumbledore dared ask, "the purpose for the overwhelming pleasure and honour of your company?"

As she brought the staff in front of her, it shrunk until it was the height of a cane. She rested both hands on its head and seriously studied the Headmaster. Who fidgeted under her eyes. After a moment, she nodded. "Yes, I suppose I might as well tell you now. My visit has two purposes. One, I have decided that, since I have no direct descendants of my blood, I wish to see that some...not all, you understand, but some of my fortune is well used. To that end I have come to see what Hogwarts would do with a donation of three million Galleons."

There was stunned silence, followed by gasps and ahhhs.

However, Albus Dumbledore knew whom he was dealing with. "And what would Hogwarts have to do to be worthy of such a donation?"

She smiled at him: he scuffled his feet nervously. "I haven't quite decided yet. I have come to Hogwarts first as it is the school I myself attended. But there are, of course, other schools and other institutions."

"Of course." Dumbledore nodded, though his own eyes hardened. He knew blackmail when he heard it.

"And," Lady LeFey turned to her great grand nephew, who still stood apart, his arms crossed over his chest, hands tucked into his sleeves, face expressionless, "it is far time Severus married. I've come to see to that as well."

The Headmaster looked around the table at his colleagues. He'd used Dobby to carry messages to all the teaching staff indicating that there was to be a special meeting at the mid-morning break. That they should dismiss their classes fifteen minutes early. One of the advantages to having a paid elf working at Hogwarts was that Dumbledore could be certain of Dobby's unquestioning loyalty. Unlike the other house elves, whose loyalty was to Hogwarts first, then to the direct link to one of its founders, Salazar Slytherin.

"I've already held a meeting with the ghosts," he explained as he accepted a cup of tea from Sinistra. "Other than the Bloody Baron, they've agreed to keep an eye on LeFey and her elves, to warn us should anyone come near the lounge while we're having this and, I'm certain, many more upcoming meetings."

"Is she serious, Albus? Three million Galleons?" McGonagall shook her head, still not believing the amount.

Dumbledore nodded. "That's the amount mentioned in the documents she showed me during our meeting."

"What we couldn't do with three million Galleons," gasped Vector.

"What conditions is she placing on her oh-so-generous donation?" Snape snarled.

Dumbledore sighed. "She hasn't said. She told me that she wanted to spend some time looking over the school, sitting in on some lectures."

There were groaned winces at that.

"Yes, well. She does have the right as the oldest sitting member of the Board, even if she is merely Emeritus."

"Excuse me," Lupin raised his hand, as though still a student.

"Yes, Remus?"

"It may be because I'm still relatively new here, but just who is Lady LeFey Slytherin etc., etc.?"

"Ah, yes. I'd forgotten there may be several of you not in the know. Professor Binns, if I might bother you for a little of your specialized knowledge?"

The ghostly figure of Binns settled back in his chair, hands folded on his belly and, closing his eyes, recited in his usual monotone lecturing voice, this time with the full attention of the entire room.

"Morgan LeFey, of the Welsh LeFeys. A direct descendant of Merlin's Morgan LeFey, hence the name. Born 1776..."

"What!" Even Flitwick seemed surprised by that. "But that makes her..."

"Two hundred twenty-one years old," glared Binns. "If I may be allowed to continue?"

There was stunned silence and many nodding heads. He closed his eyes once more. "Was one of the first Welsh witches to complete her studies at Hogwarts, which was a course of five years back in those days, not our seven. Slytherin House, of course. Particularly skilled in Arithmancy. Married Sholto Slytherin, of the same branch that had produced our Salazar, 1792. Widowed, without issue, 1809. Married..."

Dumbledore interrupted, probably the only one on staff who could do so without experiencing Binns' disapproval. "Another nine scions of powerful wizardry families across Europe, widowed childless by all of them. It's permitted her to amass great wealth and powerful connections. And, in spite of her age, she has never had any compunction in using both of those to her advantage."

Binns nodded. "And the last time she inflicted herself on Hogwarts, Throckmorton was Headmaster and he ended up in St. Mungo's playing ‘She'll leave today, she'll never leave,' with the petals of a daisy. It took him months to recover and he never did return to Hogwarts. Mind," the ghost continued, in a rather pensive tone, "we did get new greenhouses out of that visit. The most modern of the time."

Sprout's eyes suddenly gleamed, "Oh, really?"

No one else said anything. The conditions at Hogwarts since the war were shabby at best. The Ministry was using what resources it had for rebuilding what it called important structures, such as its own offices. At Hogwarts, the roofs needed reshingling, the stones remortaring, the grounds reseeding. Many of the towers were now deemed unsafe even for house elves. Dumbledore rubbed his eyes. "Well, we can but hope that her requirements are such that we can meet them."

Over the next days, the tension in Hogwarts rose noticeably. Even Peeves was on his best behaviour, exceedingly polite whenever he came across Milady and whoever was showing her around that day. He bowed and scraped, not in a sarcastic manner, but out of true fear for the lady's powers. A word of hers in the Bloody Baron's ear and he could be homeless.

Even Binns was bothered by her presence in his classroom. Normally, once he'd begun droning on about some battle or treaty, nothing much could get his attention. Being corrected as to the events of a political meeting held in 1817 managed to shake him.

"It was Mortimer, not de Gascogne, who proposed that clause on permitting the Giants a safe haven in the Outer Hebrides."

The students all held their breaths. None had been sleeping: it was hard to do so under Milady's withering glare.

Binns stopped. Blinked. He wasn't used to having his narratives interrupted, much less challenged. "Madam," he said in his most glacial tones. But she didn't permit him more than that.

"I was present at the conference, Professor Binns. Were you? No, I thought not. Mortimer, not de Gascogne. De Gascogne wanted to send them all to Lappland." She rose from the chair that her house elves carried about from room to room for her. "See to it that you attribute the clause properly from now on, Professor Binns."

And with that, she strode out of the room, staff in hand, chair and house elves following her.

Professor Sprout was so unnerved by her presence at a Mandrake lesson that she almost forgot to cover her own ears with the required muffs until a student pointed that out to her. Professor Sinistra suddenly forgot the order of Jupiter's moons. Professor Trelawney refused to come out of her rooms in the tower, prophesying doom and gloom to Milady's obvious disbelief. As if Fortune would dare be anything but kind to her. Professor Flitwick managed to fall off his mound of books while demonstrating a Defusion of Tension Charm, thereby increasing the tension in the room.

Milady found only two professors who were not at all nettled by her attendance at their lessons. She was not surprised that Severus Snape didn't react to her presence while he continued with the seventh years' preparation for N.E.W.T.s. He barely condescended to acknowledge her if they met in the hallways.

And though there were fewer Slytherins than there should have been, she was pleased to see that they held their own against the Gryffindor faction of the class. Draco, another nephew by marriage, was easily recognizable. That blond-white hair had been a de Malfoi trait since long before she'd married one of them. And the new facial scar didn't detract from the beauty of the lad. In fact, when she thought about it, the face would have been far too pretty without the scar. It added appeal and a certain masculinity to the boy's appearance.

She had no trouble locating the famous Harry Potter as well. Another with a scar, but this one much older. From his first encounter with Voldemort. She snorted, causing several near-by students to peer at her surreptitiously. Tom Marvolo Riddle. He might have been the pride of Slytherin House rather than its shame. A half-blood whose exceptional ability and intelligence was only exceeded by his dangerous delusions of grandeur. Like all the Marvolos she'd met. A family of inferior wizards at best.

The Gryffindor who was responsible for his demise and destruction was not impressed by her. Not in the least. Harry Potter met her evaluating stare with one of his own. And with one of those small nods that she used all too often herself. Pity the lad was so young. A hundred years older and she might have been willing to take him on.

Snape ignored her totally, merely glaring at those whose attention had wandered. He had a good glare.

The other professor did surprise her by taking advantage of her presence, the only one to do so. As the Defence Against the Dark Arts instructor, Professor Lupin dared put her to work demonstrating some of the old spells to his classes. Spells that had long ago fallen into disfavour with the new modern theory of wizardry. When she initially refused, he had the impudence to challenge her memory. And so she found herself executing a spell for what, in the old days, had been called "Magic Fire", a flame that produced no heat, only destruction. The first years were satisfyingly impressed with her ability and, to prove that it wasn't a fluke, she called up a miniature thunderstorm to put out the fire, a feat that had the students applauding and cheering. It was then that she realized she was having fun. And that the werewolf was smiling at her.

Milady LeFey had been at Hogwarts a full week when her personal maid, a house elf, appeared at breakfast to inform Dumbledore that Milady wanted a meeting with him in his office. When she arrived, she ignored the chair he offered her and went to sit behind the Headmaster's desk.

"I have taken note of the damages to the buildings. Tell me, Headmaster, why has this centre for learning been permitted to fall into such disrepair?"

Dumbledore sat in the chair he'd pulled out for her. He'd had enough of the nervous trepidation that she'd spread among his staff. Hogwarts might not be at its best, but it was still a place of sanctuary. And she was taking that away from them. "You may not have heard of it," he said, his voice sarcastic, "but we've just come out of a war."

Her eyebrow rose high and she looked every inch the powerful witch she was. Her tone would have torn a strip off anyone who had dared spoken to her in such a manner: Dumbledore only winced. "I am fully aware of that, Headmaster. I may have been in China at the time, but I did keep in touch. Who do you think paid for all those Aurors from other countries to make their way over here?"

Dumbledore sat back in the chair and suddenly looked every minute of his age. "Yes. I did know. I'm sorry, Morgan, but we're all tired and trying very hard to make do with a poor bargain. The buildings are in this condition because most of us still haven't regained all of our powers. We've lost far too many young people, and those who have survived have far too many nightmares. The Ministry is covering its arse as fast as it can, rewriting history so that it will not seem to have ignored the threat until it was almost too late. Gringotts has frozen all of the accounts of Death Eaters, refusing to hand over the contents of their vaults to the Ministry for reparation, until their own investigations have been completed. And on the Ministry's list of priorities, Hogwarts is near the bottom. The price we pay for having been right.

"And you come here, waving a carrot under our noses, getting hopes up when we all know that, if what you're going to demand in return for the money is something we cannot, in good faith, grant you, those hopes have been for naught.

So," he sighed, "the roof allows in the rain, the wind, the cold. As do the holes in the mortar. The broken windows. Many of the students here belong to families who have lost everything in the battle against Voldemort. Many have no homes, no families to go to. They are, of course, incapable of paying tuition. They, too, are even further down the Ministry's list than Hogwarts. We lost one fourth of our student body in the war, Morgan, and excuse us while we still mourn them, no matter which side they fought on. Is there anything else you wish to know before you leave us?"

She sat rigid in his chair as she clasped her hands on his desk. "I wish to speak to Severus."

"Severus," he spoke softly. "Dear boy, I am aware that you have gone out of your way to avoid Lady LeFey. However, she has asked that you join her in my office. I know that you would prefer not to, considering her other stated reason for being here, but I feel I must impose on your love for Hogwarts and ask you please to do so."

All eyes focused on the man who hunched up in his robes. He looked at each and every one within his range of vision, seeing the dismay in some of their faces, hope in others, challenge in yet others. He didn't bother to turn his head enough to see Lupin's, who was sitting behind him.

"As if I really have a choice, Headmaster," he snarled and, pushing his chair back, left the room.

Severus Snape was related to the perturbing and powerful Milady LeFey through marriage. He was of the poor branch of the once great Snape family, a fact that his father had begrudged every day of his life. He'd expected his one and only son to be his way out of a life of drudgery and into the right houses. He had died, his dreams unfulfilled, for which he'd laid the blame directly at his son's feet, along with the occasional glob of spit. It might have been a different matter had the first Voldemort uprising succeeded, but with the failed attempt on Harry Potter's life, the disappearance of the Lord he considered to be his chance at his due, he'd proceeded to drink himself into what for wizards was an early grave.

Life with his father had been what it was. Severus had understood early that the talents his father swore would bear fruit in the right environment existed only in the realms of his ego and what little imagination he had.

Morgan LeFey had married the head of the Snape family, Augustus Snape, had stood by his side as his faithful consort while the wizard had built up the family fortunes only to die, leaving his widow with all but the entailed inheritance. She hadn't legally had to return any of the moneys, the jewelry, the property but she had done so. But only that which had been in the family prior to her marriage to Augustus; the rest she kept for herself. It hadn't been her fault that Augustus's son and heir, in an attempt to outdo his father, had only succeeded in squandering the family fortune. Severus had had little to do with that branch of the family: they had always considered themselves to be above his bare twig on the family tree.

Severus had met Morgan LeFey several times in his life. She'd always treated him with the same disdain she bestowed impartially on everyone around her. It had consoled him that she never singled him out. Most of their meetings had occurred whenever his father had decided to push himself into the limelight. Severus had been the one to come get the drunkard shouting obscenities at some party he had crashed, skillfully avoiding his father's flying fists. Pretending that he was not embarrassed by his father's behaviour, pretending that he didn't hear the laughter of the family.

Milady had not laughed. She'd merely watched as he had struggled with his father, first as a child, then later as a adolescent.

On the rare few occasions when the entire family had been gathered for some political reason, Severus had each time been the unfortunate recipient of her attention. She was a domineering woman, according to his cousins, sticking her nose where it didn't belong. But whenever she paid the slightest attention to him – usually asking him about his studies at Hogwarts – he would find himself dragged out into the hallway or some shadow, where his cousins made it plainly clear that he was not to get ideas as to his importance. And to keep his big, long nose in his cauldron, where it belonged.

School. Hogwarts. His security from those parental and familial fists. It was only after he'd returned as its Potions instructor that he discovered she had paid for his tuition. He'd always wondered where the money had come from. His father had had barely enough to feed him once his mother had finally abandoned them on her family's urging, taking with her the small allowance they had made her. They'd been against the marriage and, though they were willing to take her back, they weren't willing to allow the results of her foolishness to accompany her. She'd made a very beneficial second marriage, though her children were sent to Beauxbatons.

When the first letter from Hogwarts had arrived, it indicated that Severus had qualified for a scholarship for needy students. His father had refused to accept it. "I am a Snape,' he'd yelled, throwing a bottle at his son, hitting him on the shoulder. "I don't take charity."

So when the next letter from Hogwarts had arrived, Severus had been taken aback to discover that not only had his tuition been paid for the full seven years, but so had his books, along with all learning materials. And there was a notice that he would also be receiving a small allowance. Not much. Enough for a new robe each year and some spending money. Not that he'd spent the money on a robe. By then his own potions required ingredients that were not available in the Hogwarts stores.

Morgan LeFey was a powerful woman. A business woman. Snape didn't delude himself: he knew that she hadn't paid his tuition out of kindness. She expected something in return. He wondered how high the price would be for his education.

She waited until they had been served tea and small cakes by her own house elves, then dismissed her servants with a wave fo her hand.

"You'll find the almond very tasty if you bother to try it, Severus."

He stared at the plate and its contents. "I think I prefer to know what it is you expect of me."

She paused with the tea cup half-way to her lips. "I thought I had made that perfectly clear. You are forty-three years old, Severus. Through the ironies of Fate, you are the last of the Snape line. You owe it to your name to marry. I am here to see that you marry well."

Snape shook his head, a bitter laugh coming out of his mouth. "Marry well? Tell me, Milady, just who do you think is going to marry a former Death Eater now that anything associated with Voldemort is greeted with revulsion?"

She placed her cup down on its saucer and sat back in her chair. "Anyone I choose, Severus."

"No matter what my opinion is on the issue."

It had been a statement, not a question. Still, she nodded, her usual small regal nod.

"And may I ask what is the hold you have over Dumbledore as regards the money that you must by now fully appreciate is greatly needed?"

She looked at him, meeting his eyes right on. "I shall provide the money after I witness your marriage."

He was silent for a good minute. She kept watching his eyes, but he'd learnt well to hide his feelings.

"Let me guess," he finally said, his voice laden with bitter scorn. "You've got some pregnant relative who needs a father for her nameless child. Or some other who is so deformed that you needs must purchase her a husband." He stood up, hands in his sleeves. "I owe you. I recognize the debt. I expect you will tell me where and when." And with that he turned and left the room.

She watched him leave, not saying a word. Funny that, of all the relations she had by marriage, this one had often come to mind.

Yes, he would live with her decision. As he had with parents who hadn't cared for him. With a father who had beaten him. With relatives who had rejected him. With the mistakes that he'd made. That he continued to pay for.

He was a Potions Master, a wizard who should have been in charge of his own laboratory, not here in a school teaching students who hadn't cared for him and who did so now only because he had fought by their side. Next year's incoming students would probably go back to fearing and hating him. But the lad paid his debts and he felt he still owed Dumbledore for taking him in when he should have been confined to Azkaban. And for that alone, she respected him.

Remus Lupin climbed one of the staircases that was now obviously out of bounds for house elves, as there was a definite demarcation line between the dusted and the not-dusted. He nodded to himself as he saw the line of footsteps that led up into the higher reaches of the tower.

Severus Snape had been missing since his meeting with Milady. Albus had taken over his lessons and said nothing at first. But when Snape hadn't returned for his afternoon classes, when he wasn't to be found in his office or in his private rooms in the dungeon, then Albus admitted to being a little worried. It was Remus's half day and he volunteered to see if he could find the elusive Potions instructor.

It was by chance that he finally remembered this particular tower. He'd been here only once, back in their school days. He'd been looking for Snape then as well, wanting an opportunity to apologize to him for Sirius's behaviour. And to try and explain about his being a werewolf, not that there really was much of an explanation.

That time he'd been following sounds, not footsteps. Sounds that had led to the small bare room at the top of the tower, to the black mound in a far corner. He'd stopped then on the final steps, listening to the keening of the boy in such pain. Remus had been ready to go to him, to offer comfort when Snape had thrown his head back and began cursing him, the werewolf, in terms that had made Remus backstep as quickly as he could before Snape had caught sight of him. He'd known then that there would be no acceptance of his apology.

This time there was no keening, no cursing. Just the black mound in the shadows of the far corner. Pausing for a moment to consider the stability of the tower itself, Lupin shrugged and silently went up. Snape had his head tucked on his clasped, drawn up knees. He did not react to Lupin's approach though he had to have heard him.

Lupin said nothing, merely drew his robes around himself and sat on the floor near Snape, careful not to touch him. After several minutes of silence, he said, "Albus is worried about you." He'd been careful merely to say the words, not colouring them in any way that might be taken as an accusation. It was his usual tone whenever he had to speak with Snape in their roles as Heads of House.

Snape slowly pulled his head off his knees and let it drop against the wall behind him. Lupin winced at the exhaustion he found in the long lines that bracketed Snape's colourless face. "He's probably more worried about his three million Galleons. You may as well put him out of his misery. Tell him that I have accepted LeFey's conditions for the donation. I'm certain that her owl is already on the way to the future Mrs. Snape."

But Lupin didn't move. He leaned his head against the wall behind him, eyes on the man next to him. "Was that her condition? That you marry?"

"Of her choice."

"You could always refuse."

"Yes, and that will make me all the more popular with my colleagues, the students and their families." Snape managed a laugh that gave Lupin the shivers. "I wonder how whoever she is will enjoy living in the dungeons. I suppose I should ask the Headmaster for larger quarters. Assuming that I shall be permitted to remain here."

Lupin winced at the despair and self-mockery in Snape's voice. "Why shouldn't you remain at Hogwarts?"

The eyes that met his were bottomless and dull. "Because it's something I want. And I've learnt over time that the...things I want never work out properly."

Lupin turned a little so that he could see Snape's face more clearly. "If I ask you a question, would you answer it? Honestly?"

Snape's head rolled a little as though it were too heavy for his neck. "Yes. Why not? This seems to be a day for honest appraisal. What is your question?"

"That Saturday, after the Quidditch match, would you have met me under the bleachers as we had planned?"

Snape's teeth chewed on his lower lip before he spoke. "Yes. I would have."

Lupin nodded. "But then Sirius decided to get rid of you."

"I suppose I should apologize for not knowing that you and he were lovers and that I was infringing on private property."

Lupin ignored the heavy sarcasm, hearing only the pain. "Severus. We were never lovers. Sirius was into girls and we thought of each other as brothers, not lovers. What Sirius was, was possessive. Not just of me, but of all of us Marauders. And he was protective of my condition. He worried about the fact that we seemed to be getting friendly and he ignored James's opinion that it really was none of Sirius's business. That none of us ever got involved in his loves and that he should leave us alone."

Lupin shook his head sadly. "Of course, Sirius, being Sirius, thought he knew better."

One of Snape's hands released his legs to rub at his face. "Well, he probably did. How did you know where to find me?"

"I found you here once before."

Snape closed his eyes. "I'm surprised I didn't hear of that. Black would have found it a good joke to spread..."

Lupin reached out and placed his hand on Snape's knees, squeezing to stop the words. Snape looked at the hand, his own fluttering helplessly before returning to grip his legs once more. "I think you'd better go, Lupin. Tell the Headmaster that he needn't worry, that I shall take my classes tomorrow."

Lupin pulled back his hand then moved onto his knees as though to find his feet. Instead, he leaned over and placed his hand on Snape's face, slowly caressing it. Then he leaned over even further and passed his mouth over the one that had opened. Whatever words Snape had been ready to speak were lost in the heat of Lupin's mouth.

When Lupin finally pulled back enough to see Snape's face, he almost wished he hadn't. He saw hunger and pain and loss. Carefully, as though holding something incredibly fragile, he took Snape's face between his two hands and gently reclaimed the mouth. And this time he was the one who cursed, mentally damning Sirius Black and his egotistical righteousness.

Snape's hands were suddenly on his shoulders, not pushing him away, but holding him. His tongue awoke and joined in the dance with Lupin's. Lupin leaned a little closer, his body pressing against Snape's legs, his mouth slowly learning the curves and bones of Snape's face.

"Lu.."

"Shhh."

Lupin's hands shaped the neck, the shoulders of the man who sat motionless. They slipped down to the buttons at the neck of his robe and undid them, revealing a boney collarbone, a wiry musculature that demanded that his lips, his teeth, his tongue test the tension of the muscles.

Snape's legs slowly straightened, separating, allowing Lupin more space to lean in and open more of the robe. Revealing more of that white skin, the bones, the muscles to his mouth and hands.

Lupin had seen Snape's body when they'd been students. No House had exclusive rights on the swimming hole that called in the middle of those rare hot nights. Encounters where the noise levels had to be kept down in order not to attract attention from the caretaker. There had been rough games in the water, pulling each other down, seeing how long someone could stay under before rising up for air.

The structure had been there, but it had been that of a boy. This body belonged to a man. A man whose life had been recorded in the marks it had left behind, scars of cuts and burns and curses that even Poppy Pomfrey's medical magic hadn't been able to erase.

Lying in the nest composed of their robes, Lupin slowly aroused the body under his, taking his time to imprint himself on that skin. Snape had been naked under the robe, wearing only underwear, white in their newness. He didn't think that Snape had pulled them on that morning with this encounter in mind. He did remember James, in a moment of bullying that had embarrassed and shamed Lupin, allowing everyone to see the age and greyness of Snape's underwear.

He lowered his mouth to the waistband and planted a wet kiss next to the deep navel, his mouth slowly following as he pulled down the material, revealing more and more of the skin, of the hard hip-bone, the black bush. He was careful not to drag the elastic over the already dripping cock, not wanting anything to hurt, not even the slightest.

As he took Snape's cock into his mouth, Snape's hips rose and his hands buried themselves in Lupin's hair. Lupin wondered at the sounds coming from Snape. No words. Nothing that encouraged, nothing that indicated a preference. Just gasps and moans that went directly to Lupin's own cock.

And then the hands shifted, going to Lupin's shoulders, hauling him up so that the two men faced each other. Snape pulled Lupin's head down to claim his mouth while his free hand slipped between both their bodies, grasping hard cocks and playing with them as he rolled over, pinning Lupin under him.

Hips rubbed hard one against the other, hands explored roughly, yet their mouths were gentle and kind with the other's. Lupin's breath caught at the feral beauty he saw when Snape pulled his head up, gasping out his orgasm while pumping hard against Lupin. That sight, along with the friction of Snape's groin against his own erection, tipped Lupin over into his own.

They lay, still in their nest of robes, arms around each other, Snape's face tucked into the hollow of Lupin's shoulder. As he recovered his breath, Lupin slowly stroked the sweaty shoulders and back, enjoying the feel of the silky skin, the knobby spine. Snape nestled his face a little, his free hand stroking Lupin's flank.

Lupin stared at the roof, rubbing his cheek on Snape's head. Thinking.

"Severus."

A sigh. Voice resigned. "Yes, I know. You should go now. Before someone comes looking for you as well."

Lupin tightened his hold. "No, not that. Severus, what were Milady's exact words? The marriage part."

Snape moved his head so that it rested on Lupin's shoulder. In spite of telling Lupin to go, he wanted as much of this time as he could to take with him. He felt surprisingly safe even though he was lying naked on the floor of a tower that might well disintegrate without warning.

"The marriage part?"

"Yes."

"She said that I owed it to my name to marry well, and that she would see to it. When I challenged her about my reputation, she pointed out that anyone she chose would marry me in spite of it."

"Did she tell you that she had someone already selected?"

"No. But I don't doubt that she has the lucky candidate in mind."

Lupin's hand forced Snape's head up. "Severus. Do you trust me?"

"What?"

"Can you find it in yourself to trust me, Severus? Completely."

Snape said nothing, only trying to read the face watching him, awaiting his answer. "Yes, I can. What..."

But Lupin moved out from under him, picking up his wand and quickly spelling both of them clean. He tossed Snape's underwear to him, pulling on his own. "Come on, get dressed. I may have an idea that will work."

Snape shook his head but didn't argue. He recognized the look on Lupin's face: he'd seen that determination often during the few times they'd worked together during the war. He'd barely begun buttoning his robes when Lupin caught him by the hand and began dragging him out of the tower. "They should all be getting ready for dinner," he muttered. "Albus told them at lunch that he wanted everyone looking their best tonight. I think he was indicating to Milady that she might have outstayed her welcome.'

Snape scoffed. "Morgan is not known for moving on unless it is her own idea." But he said nothing more, following Lupin, who still held his hand, down the corridors and staircases to the quarters that housed the Head of Gryffindor.

Lupin pulled Snape into his bedroom, pointing to the bed. "Sit, and don't you dare move."

And though he wanted to protest the way he was being bossed around, Snape sat and remained silent, watching the man who had made love to him scrounging about in his closet. "Ah!"

The robe was a deep red-brown, picking up the hint of auburn in Lupin's brown-grey hair. Using his wand, Lupin exchanged his teaching robes for this formal one. Then, with a grin, he grabbed Snape's hand once more, dragging him down unused passageways to the door of Snape's own rooms.

"Well, what are you waiting for, open up before anyone sees us!"

Snape shrugged, not understanding what Lupin had in mind, but complying with his wishes. The door no sooner opened than he was once more grabbed and dragged in. Lupin took the time of a breath to locate himself and then headed for Snape's bedroom, where once again he was told to sit and be quiet.

"What are you looking for, Lupin?" he asked the man hidden in his closet.

"A set of formal robes. Surely you have some, Severus?"

"To the left, at the far end."

Lupin pulled out the robes that Snape wore but rarely. They were a heavy jet velvet, with satin neck, cuffs and hem, all of which were embroidered with equally black Slytherin snakes.

Lupin grinned at Snape. "Ni...ce."

And for some reason, Snape felt his face heat up at the tone and the expression in Lupin's eyes. "Lupin, what are you up to?"

Lupin tossed the robe onto the bed and once more took possession of Snape's mouth. When he ended the kiss, he rested his cheek against Snape's. "Trust me. And this way if the whole idea blows up, you can honestly say that you had no idea what I was up to."

Snape shed his potions robe for the velvet one.

Wand in one hand, Snape's in his other, Lupin spelled the Great Doors open.

As had occurred with Milady's arrival, the hall fell silent. Lupin waited until they had everyone's attention to lead the way up the aisle, to the front of the hall where Albus was already on his feet, his face reflecting his surprise. Milady, sitting to the right of him, merely gifted them with her usual glare. Lupin stopped and the two men stood side by side. Lupin raised his head and spoke loudly, clearly, his voice filling the hall.

"By the rules of Gretna Green, I declare in front of all these witnesses that I, Remus Lupin, do love Severus Snape and do take him unto me as husband."

Stunned silence. Then the staff table rose, the students rose, all wondering, some loudly, some less so that the hall sounded as though it were filled with bees.

Snape was as amazed as them all. He stared at Lupin who smiled back at him. "Well, dearling?"

Snape swallowed hard. He turned to look at Dumbledore, ignoring the frigid expression on Milady's face. "I'm sorry," he said to the Headmaster before turning back to Lupin. His voice for once was bare of all snarkiness, all sarcasm, all ill humour. "By the rules of Gretna Green, I declare in front of all these witnesses that I, Severus Snape, do love Remus Lupin and do take him unto me as husband."

And then he pulled Lupin to him, buried a hand in the werewolf's hair and kissed him with all the emotion that he'd been denying all these years.

The cheer began in Hufflepuff, was picked up by Ravenclaw and then by the last two houses. Students jumped up on the tables, to see the two last people in the school they had ever suspected of having feelings for each other hold and kiss the other as though it was the last time they would do so. Whistles of appreciation joined the cheers and the applause as the kiss went on.

Albus Dumbledore turned to the woman standing next to him. Loudly so that she could hear him, he asked, "Does Severus's apology have anything to do with that so-called donation of yours, Morgan?"

She turned her head just enough for him to understand that she was severely displeased.

He nodded and shrugged. "Oh, well." Then he turned to watch the two men who had finally accepted the need to breathe and who were gasping for air, foreheads together, still holding onto each other. With a smile, Dumbledore began applauding, a signal that anyone on staff who so cared to approve could now do so.

Milady stepped around the table to go stand at the front of the professors' dias. Lupin met her eyes with daring of his own. He expected her to back down, she thought. Well, little did he know her.

She turned her gaze onto the one who had most distressed her plans. She expected to see a sense of victory, of pleasure. Instead she saw the child who had stood in the hallway before going in to collect his father, bracing himself for the humiliations, for the mocking laughter that awaited him in that room.

He didn't expect her to allow him this. A public avowal that someone he loved actually loved him back. Meeting her eyes, he raised his chin. He had said that he owed her, that he recognized his debt to her. Now he waited for her to destroy him. She could. Very easily. With a few words, she could inform those cheering him just what this gesture had cost them all.

As she watched, Lupin took a step, not a large one, just enough so that his body was now in front of Snape's heart. A small, almost imperceptible gesture but one fraught with meaning.

With her face expressionless, she banged her staff three times on the floor, the third causing the ceiling of the Great Hall to crackle with thunder and lightning.

The hall fell silent.

"That is all fine and good, Professor Lupin, but the rules of Gretna Green were long ago disbanded."

The disappointment was a live thing that invaded the hall. The Headmaster had warned her about the situation in the school: she felt the waves of pain and sorrow buffet against her.

"Not so."

Minerva McGonagall stepped forward. "The Muggle version of the rules on Scottish marriage were disbanded in 1856. And while it is true that the same disbandment was presented to the Wizengamot in that year, it was tabled but never went to the vote."

"Very true," said Professor Binns. "That year the Wizengamot spent the session dealing with the uprising in the Balkans and the immigration of those escaping the revolution. It's one of those things that slipped through the cracks of bureaucracy."

All eyes in the hall swung back to Milady.

She frowned. She could still use the donation to get what she wanted. She didn't doubt that popular sentiment would as quickly swing in her direction with the offer of three million Galleons. But she liked to think that she was not a cruel woman. Determined. Desirous of having her way and expecting to have it. But not cruel.

"There is the matter of rings," she said.

"Rings?"

Ah, well, she at least had the consolation of having taken Lupin by surprise.

"Yes, rings. The outward symbol of marriage. I'm surprised that you never thought of those, Professor Lupin."

Neither of the men wore rings of any kind. Lupin looked at Snape and shrugged.

"Not a problem."

All eyes went to the older Hufflepuff student who was taking one off her hand. Others quickly followed her example, stepping forward to offer their own. Well, what had she expected? They had survived a war, faced stronger forces than her displeasure.

"No, that will not be necessary."

As Milady's staff shortened and changed into her wand, she pulled one of the thin gold bracelets she wore off her wrist. With a word, she tossed it up into the air, high enough for all to see, and took her wand, changing the form of the bangle until it was thin enough to snap into two. With another gesture, the two pieces became smaller circles that grew smaller as they thickened.

"A snake for Slytherin, I think."

And as the gold reflected on the walls of the Great Hall, all could see a long elegant serpent appear in the reflections.

"And for Gryffindor, a lion."

But as the lion began taking shape, she stopped the work.

The hall silently watched as she cocked her head, looking only at Lupin. "The lion is a brave creature, Professor Lupin, but is not a faithful one. I believe that, on the other hand, the wolf is."

"Yes, Milady. Wolves mate for life."

She nodded slightly. "Then, in this case, a far better choice than a lion, I think."

And the lion disappeared to be replaced by a wolf with a serpent wound lightly around its body, its head resting on top of the wolf's.

She did not permit herself to respond to the applause, the cheers, the comments of amazement at her art. Instead she called down the two bands of gold to her and allowed them to hover there.

"Malfoy. Potter."

There were sounds as the two young men she'd called made their way through the crowd and came to stand in front of her. She took a moment to examine them. Seventeen, she thought, and already better men than most they would ever meet. She would keep her eye on these two: she liked young men who went far. If she had done more than pay for Severus's tuition, if she had truly kept her eye on him, he might have had a completely different life.

Malfoy bowed gracefully. "Many times Great Grand Aunt Morgan."

Potter's bow was less elegant. "Milady LeFey."

She reached out her hand and the rings fell into it. "A Handfasting Ceremony needs witnesses. Are you two ready to bear witness for your Heads of House?"

She noticed that they both checked out the rings on their way, probably verifying that she hadn't cursed them. Yes, she would definitely be keeping an eye on these two.

As she listened, as all in the hall fell once more silent, the words of Handfasting rang clear.

"I, Remus Lupin, do swear in front of these witnesses, of family and friends, to be true to you, Severus Snape, in dark times and in light, in sickness and in health; to respect you and hold you dear until the end of my days."

"I, Severus Snape, do swear in front of these witnesses, of family and friends, to be true to you, Remus Lupin, in dark times and in light, in sickness and in health; to respect you and hold you dear until the end of my days."

This time the cheers were so loud that Milady was seen covering up her ears with both hands.

From somewhere there came music and then there was dancing. The house elves suddenly produced cakes of all kinds.

After accepting the congratulations and best wishes of his colleagues, Severus Snape approached Milady and stood in front of her until he had her attention.

"May I have this dance, Milady?"

Though she barely came up to his shoulders, she had no trouble hearing his words over the music and laughter of young people enjoying themselves. "I thank you for allowing this to happen."

She looked up, glaring at him. "Well, it wasn't exactly what I had in mind when I thought about it, but all things considered, it will prove to be acceptable."

"Does this mean that you won't punish the school for my ingratitude?"

She smiled at him, at the boy still willing to take on more than he should need to. "The school will get its donation. I do, however, expect your full support when I inform Albus I want the new Arithmancy tower named after me."

He smiled. A true smile. One that made him look younger and almost handsome. "Both Remus and I will be delighted to support such a plan. Great Grand Aunt Morgan."

The End

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