The Name in Red **COMPLETE**

Hey everyone! I apologize greatly for the delay in updating. There have been a lot of things going on this summer that I didn't expect, and I've been kept fairly busy. Would you forgive me if I gave you... A LEMON?!?! Well, friends, I won't keep you waiting any longer! Here's chapter 25!


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The Name in Red.

Chapter 25: A Promise.
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"Idiots!" an angered voice roared. There was a loud crack, a flash of light, and someone yelped loudly in pain.

"Ouch, damn it!" a gruff voice answered, the apparent recipient of whomever's rage was flaring uncontrollably. "What the bloody hell was that for? You were there too, you bleedin' idiot, hit yourself with that hex next time!" Fenrir Greyback growled lowly and menacingly, baring his fangs. The other conscious occupant of the small, darkened room, seated in a chair against the wall and still covered head to toe in hood and cloak, seemed indifferent the demented werewolf's ferocious display. The man who had fired the hex blindly out of frustration seemed not to care much either.

"Wrong, all wrong! It all went wrong!" shouted the first figure angrily, pacing about the small room. The lighting was extremely dim. By the small amount of light, it was plainly visible that indeed only three of the room's occupants were on their feet in seemingly decent health. The other three were lying in makeshift cots that had been crammed closely together, and were badly injured, their wounds having been tended to haphazardly by whomever else was in the small room with them.

Ignoring the pacing figure's fury, the demented werewolf, supporting himself on the knuckles of his right hand as well as his now slightly-misshapen hind feet, hovered over one of the figures lying in a cot, looking them over with more than a small amount of interest. His breath, as always, came in snarling rasps.

"Think they're going to be alright?" the werewolf spoke, eyeing the wounds of the unconscious figures. Despite the fact that they were supposed to be his comrades, the tantalizingly close smell of fresh human blood had piqued his feral interest. Clenching his sharp teeth together tightly, he barely managed to suppress the thought.

"How should I know," the first figure, still pacing, spat back. "I don't know what the hell that Mudblood did to them. She should barely be able to hold a wand, let alone this," he said, gesturing wildly to the three injured, unconscious figures laid out in the cots. "And it's not as if we can take them to St. Mungo's," the figure added with a contemptuous snort.

"How do you know it wasn't Potter who done it?" the werewolf rasped, leaning over farther to sniff closely at one of the injured man's bloodied bandages. The memory of the boy besting him in combat, so close at hand, caused him to growl lowly again. He had received quite a beating from the boy. If it weren't for his heightened fortitude that his condition blessed him with, he would surely be lying injured and unconscious in one of the cots as well.

"How could it have been Potter?" the pacing figure spat, brandishing his wand blindly into the room once again. Even though no hex came this time, the werewolf still lowered his head defensively like a frightened animal, snarling. "Potter would never inflict this kind of damage on anyone! You said it yourself, Greyback. After everything was said and done, the girl was still standing, despite having taken numerous powerful curses, head-on!"

The werewolf lifted his strange yellow eyes from the bloodied bandages, turning them to the pacing figure, unnerved by his apparent unpreparedness for the situation which had unfolded on Archer Crescent. Sure, they had known that Potter was most likely going to be there, and they knew what Potter could do, especially after his performance in bringing down the Dark Lord; but how were they supposed to have known that the girl would turn into their main problem?

"What the hell is she, anyway," the werewolf commented, his eyes now fixed on the pacing figure. The tone of his voice was suspicious and impatient. The yellow eyes narrowed.

The pacing figure's head snapped back in the direction of the werewolf.

"That is not for you to know," the figure supplied quickly, "All you need to be concerned about is the fact that you wish to come out of hiding again, all of you. And in order to do that, you need to do exactly as I say, no questions asked." His voice was very nearly shaking. Only he, and one other man in the room, who was currently lying unconscious on one of the makeshift cots, knew the true details of their design. The plan had been to keep Potter occupied for long enough to set the girl continuing along on the right track, and bringing Potter along with her for the ride... but they had been unable to mutter so much as a word to the girl after their initial confrontation. Once Potter and the girl had broken their ranks, and the girl had been cursed, it was over. Shortly after that, she had quite literally torn half of them apart single-handedly, with frightening skill. Everything had gone wrong.

The werewolf bared his teeth slightly at the clear dismissal, though he was accustomed to not being privy to plans like this. His job, he knew, was to get the higher-ups what they wanted, and in return, he would be rewarded. He continued to watch the other figure pace back and forth.

"You disobeyed my orders already, Greyback," the pacing figure added, pointing an accusatory figure at the hunched over beast.

Greyback did not speak yet. He only glared back at the pacing figure, waiting.

"All of you did," the figure continued, motioning again to the injured figures lying in cots. "You were only supposed to use as much force as necessary, perhaps rough her up a bit, and the boy, too, but not try to kill her."

"Maybe you would have been able to enforce your orders a little better if Potter hadn't taken you out in about five seconds," the werewolf retorted, glaring.

"He took you out too, imbecile," the pacing figure shot back.

"Yes, but unlike you, I got back up to keep fighting, didn't I?" the werewolf spat, "Besides, what would you have done? She went berserk, someone had to stop her before she killed us all. You should be thanking me."

"You might have killed her," the pacing figure asserted again.

The werewolf growled again, apparently having had enough of the pacing figure's reprimands.

"Hey, I told you, she was still alive when I tackled her, didn't I?" he snarled. "So what the bloody hell are you on about? She sure got roughed up, just like you wanted."

"I wouldn't say we were the ones who did the most roughing up," the pacing figure said, eyeing the unconscious figures. "If she is dead, the plan is dead. And worst of all," the figure continued, his voice rising in anger, "You were seen! By Potter!"

The werewolf did not retort this time, or attempt to offer up an excuse. Even he knew how terrible of a mistake it had been for him to be seen.

"He'll likely trigger a search, a full-scale investigation!" the pacing figure shouted, "Looking for more people that are supposed to be dead, or missing people who are supposed to be in Azkaban! Do you have any idea what it would do to me, if I were discovered to be linked to any of you? Do you know what they would do to me? I'd end up in Azkaban, right along with you!"

The figure continued to pace back and forth for a few silent moments before speaking again. The werewolf's yellow eyes remained locked on him; he was tempted to ask the pacing figure what exactly they would do next since they had not accomplished whatever they had set out to do, but refrained when he realized that he barely knew what this plan entailed to begin with. He had been coaxed into cooperation with the promise of being able to come out of hiding, once a new regime, one like the Dark Lord's had been, was established. Apparently, whatever the plan was, it would accomplish this.

"However," the figure went on, sounding slightly calmer now. He spoke slowly as a hopeful realization dawned upon him. "Potter may not dare to go public at the moment. It would be unwise for him to draw attention to himself in the wake of a Ministry break-in, and a Gringotts break-in, when he is the only one who has been known to have done both in recent history. The magical community views him as a hero, but I am sure they have their patiences as to how many times they want the boy breaking into their ministerial headquarters and their banks illegally."

He was now speaking to himself more than the other two conscious figures.

"And," he continued, "In both instances, the well-publicized evidence," he put a sort of flourish on these last few words as if it were his own doing that the information on both the Ministry breach and the bank break-in was so thoroughly leaked to the press, "Pointed to two suspects, not one. To draw attention to himself might draw attention to his little friend, which is probably the last thing he wants to do at the moment. Not after what happened to them."

Several moments of silence passed, during which the figure continued to pace back and forth idly, thinking to himself. Perhaps they were not in as bad of shape as he had first thought. Still, they would need to proceed carefully. He stopped in his pacing to glance at the man lying unconscious in the cot closest to him. If he were awake, they would be able to confer as to what their next step would be.

"No matter," the figure mumbled quietly to himself. He didn't really need to confer with him. He, after all, was one of the most integral parts of the scheme, was he not? Aside from most of the dirty work, it was his own job to produce the results that they wanted. He was also the only one of them who was able to live a public existence. They needed him, far more than he needed them.

More silence passed while the figure, now still, continued to stare at the unconscious man closest to him.

"Alright, alright," said figure at last, seeming to have come to a conclusion inside his mind, calming the remainder of his frustration. "Here is what we will do. We will continue to watch the house. You by day," the figure pointed a finger at Greyback, whose expression became even more unpleasant, "And you, by night." The figure now pointed to the other conscious figure in the room.

Up until this point, he had remained seated quietly in his chair, taking little notice of the room's other occupants aside from when the werewolf would growl or make a sudden movement. Now that he had been addressed directly, the rim of his hood turned in the direction of his addresser. In the room's dim light, a soft, violet gleam was visible from underneath it.

"Yes, yes, that should work," the figure continued, assured in his choices. "Now that she knows, it is probably only a matter of time before she shows up there again to sniff around. Potter has already seen you," he said, motioning to the werewolf, making it clear that the rationale behind this choice was to avoid exposing any of their other comrades to possible identification, "And I do not believe Potter would know who you are, anyway, am I correct?" he asked the hooded figure.

"We have never met face-to-face, no," answered a voice from underneath the hood. It was deep, smooth, and even.

"Perfect," said the first figure, now addressing both the werewolf and the hooded figure. "And let me make myself perfectly clear. I do not care what you have to do to her as long as it does not result in lasting harm, am I understood?" He glared; apparently this choice of words was supposed to hold special a meaning for both of them. Both the werewolf and the hooded man conveyed their understanding with a single nod. "Do only what is necessary. Hold her when she appears and summon me, or bring her to me. If this fails, we shall need to find some other avenue of hunting her down again, before she and Potter find us."


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When Sarah awoke after a peaceful night's sleep, there was a small amount of light streaming in through the window, and she found that Snape had gone. After yawning and stretching simultaneously, she sat up, wincing slightly. The pain from the werewolf wounds was still quite evident, though it felt as if it had lessened slightly after her last treatment with that foul, excruciatingly painful ointment. At least that means it's working, she thought wryly to herself.

Glancing quickly around the room, she found that she was indeed alone. She also noticed that there had been something left for her on the chair next to the bed which Snape usually occupied. Her clothes, having been apparently cleaned and mended by him, were laid out neatly for her. Taking this as a sign that she was now permitted to get out of bed, she grabbed her wand, which Harry had left for her on the side table. She flicked it toward the room's door ever-so-gently, afraid that she might somehow manage to inadvertently destroy it. Thankfully, the door swung shut slowly and quietly, allowing her to change out of Snape's overlarge robes and back into her own familiar clothing.

When she was dressed, she pocketed her wand and headed out into the hallway where she was greeted with the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafting up from downstairs. She strode down the hallway, warily at first; the last time she had tried to leave the bed and travel downstairs, she had been extremely unsteady on her feet, and every step she had taken pained her. This time, however, she quickly became confident when nothing hurt, aside from the dull pain of the werewolf wounds. Despite her confidence, she took the stairs slowly on her way down, one step at a time.

Making her way to the kitchen, what she found there was almost surreal. From what she knew of their mutual backgrounds, she could not imagine two less likely people to be sitting in a kitchen together, looking civil. As she stood in the door frame, she found Harry, seated at the table with a cleaned plate in front of him, as well as a steaming mug of coffee, and Snape, standing up and leaning against the cabinets, sipping coffee from his own mug. When he spied the girl in the doorway, his eyes lifted from the rim of his mug, and he quickly set it down on the counter top beside him. Harry, aware of Snape's sudden shift in attention, looked toward the doorway as well.

They had just been discussing the implications of what they had learned yesterday; Sarah's apparent lapse in memory and complete unawareness of what she had done to their attackers. They immediately began discussing the most logical explanation, whether or not it was possible that the girl could have been Imperiused. Harry approached the explanation with skepticism. He had told Snape everything that he had seen transpire, but it was true that he had not seen what exactly happened to Sarah until a certain point. It was entirely possible that she could have been Imperiused during that time, Harry admitted, but both he and Snape agreed that it was highly unlikely. Harry wondered why, if the girl had been Imperiused, she had not been turned on him by her attackers, instead of turning on the attackers themselves. Perhaps it had been a poorly and incompletely applied curse? Even with the extreme unlikeliness that Sarah had been Imperiused, Harry and Snape could find no other logical explanation for her lapse in memory.

Even so, Snape deemed it wise for Harry to begin teaching the girl to resist the effects of the curse. Their discussion had reached this conclusion by the time Sarah entered the kitchen, unaware that they had been conversing about her.

"Good morning," Snape spoke first, eyeing the girl over. Apparently, he was unable to mask the concern with which he gazed at her.

"I'm fine, honestly," Sarah said convincingly, striding into the kitchen and pulling out a chair at the table, "I'm feeling much better today," she said, seating herself across from Harry, and smiling up at Snape.

"Forgive me," Snape replied with a smirk, "For the last time you ventured from your sickbed unattended you appeared as if you could barely walk."

"She looks loads better now," Harry said. He was glad to see Sarah back in her own clothing. Snape had done an excellent job cleaning and mending them; if Harry hadn't been aware of the werewolf scratches on her collarbone or the strange mark that had appeared on her wrist, it would have looked as if nothing had happened to her.

"Agreed," Snape said, turning and busying himself about the kitchen, fetching food for the girl. He and the boy had already eaten. "Hungry?"

"Very," she replied. In a trice, Snape had a breakfast prepared for her consisting of coffee, eggs, bacon, and toast.

When she had finished eating, Sarah wandered back into the sitting room. Having been bedridden since she had arrived here, she had so far been unable to really appreciate being in Snape's home. She made several slow circles around the small sitting room, taking it in. As she did, Harry seated himself upon the couch, putting his feet up on the coffee table and reclining comfortably. Snape was still in the kitchen, sorting out the dishes.

"So, what shall we do today?" Harry asked jokingly as he put his arms up behind his head, watching Sarah as she strolled around the room.

Sarah did not reply; her attention was directed toward examining the details of the room. It was not quite what she had expected Snape's home to look like. This room was much more full of things than she would have expected, yet it still looked austere in its own sort of way; it looked as if many of the tomes which filled the bookcase-lined walls hadn't been touched in years. There was a layer of dust on the mantle above the fireplace. There was a fire burning within it, filling the room with light and heat, but the room was still somewhat dark. Sarah quickly realized that this was due to the fact that all of the room's curtains were drawn tightly shut. Proceeding over to the nearest one, she flung the curtains open, letting daylight flood into the room. When she could finally see out of the somewhat grimy windows, she gasped.

Harry sat up straight in an instant, his hand on his wand, and his eyes on Sarah. When he had heard her gasp, he had immediately assumed the worst. Instead, he relaxed when he saw Sarah with her face and hands pressed to the window like an excited child gazing into a storefront.

"Look, fresh snow!" Sarah exclaimed. Everything she could see outside was covered in a fresh blanket of pristine, untouched snow, and flakes were still falling from the mildly bright gray sky above.

"Don't gasp like that next time," Harry said, getting up off of the couch and walking over to where Sarah stood before the window. "For a moment I thought you'd seen someone outside with a wand pointed at you." When he reached where she stood, he peered over her shoulder and out of the window. The houses which marched off into the distance all looked as if they had cake icing upon them. Even though the sky above was clouded as snow continued to fall, the blanket of white made it seem much brighter outside.

"We should go for a walk," Sarah said, her breath fogging up the already grimy window to the point where she could no longer see out of it very well. She turned away from it, glancing back at Harry. "I could use it after being in bed all that time, and it's so pretty outside. What do you think?"

Harry raised his eyebrows at her suggestion. After having been cooped up in Snape's home for the past couple of days, a walk outside did sound quite appealing. A noise from the kitchen caused him to glance toward the doorway. It sounded as if cabinets were shutting loudly; Snape must have finished with the dishes.

"I think I'd better ask, first," said Harry, after having an inkling that taking the girl outside of the house without permission at the present moment might not be the wisest thing to do. After taking a couple of steps in the direction of the kitchen, however, he stopped in his tracks. "No, wait," he said, turning back toward Sarah who was still standing at the grimy, fogged-up window. "You ask. I bet he'll be more apt to say yes if you ask him for something rather than me, don't you think?"

Sarah smiled amusedly.

"Good idea," she agreed, walking past him, around the couch in the middle of the room, and toward the kitchen doorway. Harry followed behind her.

Before they reached the doorway, however, Snape appeared inside it. He stopped when he realized he was only a few feet away from both the girl and the boy, and they looked as if they were headed for the kitchen. When they saw him, they stopped as well, looking up at him expectantly. He blinked at them. Sarah stepped forward immediately.

"Severus," she began, her tone sweet, "May Harry and I go for a walk? It's been snowing."

Snape did not reply immediately. Instead, he first lifted his dark eyes from the girl's gaze and looked to the window across the room. He could tell from the quality of the light outside, as well as the sheer amount of whiteness visible, that it had indeed snowed a respectable amount. Due to his preoccupation with tending to the girl, as well as his habit of keeping all of his curtains drawn shut, he hadn't even noticed. His eyes then darted to the boy, who was also glancing toward the window. When Harry felt Snape's eyes on him, he turned to meet them.

Harry blinked at Snape, trying to look as neutral as possible; it wouldn't do to inadvertently look as if he were up to something. It was a force of habit that he still felt uncomfortable under the scrutiny of that black-eyed gaze.

Snape's eyes narrowed slightly. He always looks as if he's up to something, he sighed within his own mind. He turned his gaze back to the girl who was still looking up at him hopefully. It was difficult for him to deny her what she wanted. He knew that her condition had certainly improved enough to merit talking a walk outside, but something else still concerned him. He had certainly never expected her to be so viciously attacked as she was, and the thought of it made him not want to let the girl out of his sight again. He could have lost her.

He was still too wary to let the girl leave the house without him, even if she would be in the boy's company.

"Only if I am permitted to accompany you," he said at last. His eyes darted back to the boy to gauge his reaction, which would surely be a negative one. Instead, Snape was taken aback when the boy looked pleased.

Several minutes later, all three of them were suitably bundled up for a walk in the snow. When they were ready to leave, Snape withdrew his wand from inside his cloak. With a few flicks, the curtains which Sarah had opened drew themselves shut again, and the front door had unlocked itself and swung open to allow them outside.

Sarah and Harry trudged out after the door had opened, beating a path through the thick snow. After Snape stepped outside and locked the door behind him with another flick of his wand, he found them waiting for him at the end of the walk. Stepping through their already-trodden footprints, he tucked his wand away in an outside pocket before reaching them. He then walked past them. The girl quickly fell into stride on his right, and the boy walked beside her.

Even though they were walking beside him, Snape had silently taken the lead in their little walk, and Sarah and Harry followed whenever he would change direction. He led them away from Spinner's End, past the polluted, stagnant stream which ran close by. Under a fresh coating of snow, however, its muddy and litter-strewn banks were hidden, and it almost looked picturesque. Flakes were still falling from above, but it was clear that the heaviest of the snow had already fallen, and was now tapering off.

Snape felt odd as he walked along, distancing himself from his home. It was true that he lived at Hogwarts most of the year, but even while living on Spinner's End, he could not remember the last time he had ventured outside into the surrounding neighborhood. He usually stayed shut up inside, Apparating directly in and out if he needed to leave for something. The last time he left his front door on foot and walked out into the neighborhood must have been sometime during his childhood; after he had reached the age to learn Apparition, he thought painfully, there was no longer any need for him to go anywhere else in the neighborhood.

The girl, as well as the boy, seemed to be at ease as they walked, enjoying the winter scenery; Snape, however, remained on the alert. His sharp black eyes darted about as they went, scanning over snowbanks and around corners. His hands were thrust deeply into his pockets, keeping them warm, but also keeping his right hand securely on his wand, ready to draw it at half a moment's notice. More than once, he turned his head to glance behind them. This did not go unnoticed by the girl, who was walking very close to his side.

Wordlessly, she moved closer to him, hooking her left arm around his right. It was stiff at first as he maintained a tight grip on his wand, but relaxed at her touch. When Harry noticed the pair walking arm-in-arm, he quickly became very interested in eyeing the small houses as they passed them. Just as he had noticed when he first arrived here with Sarah, many of the houses appeared to be uninhabited, looking quite run-down. As they moved off of Spinner's End and down another lane, the houses seemed to improve in condition slightly and were more regularly inhabited. Still, here and there among the plots were houses that were clearly empty.

"Why are so many of these houses empty?" Harry asked aloud, not really expecting an answer.

Snape looked up, glancing at the single huge chimney in the distance, which had not given off smoke in recent memory.

"A lot of people moved away when the mill was shut down. That was many, many years ago now," he recalled. "Maybe twenty."

"Wow," said Sarah, glancing up at the huge, smokeless chimney in the distance. "How long have you lived here?"

"Since I was a boy," Snape replied, still trudging onward through the snow blindly with Harry and Sarah following him, not even thinking about where he was leading them.

Sarah's eyes opened a little more widely with the realization that the house on Spinner's End was his boyhood home. Inwardly, she wondered what had become of his parents, but refrained from asking such an intrusive question aloud, especially in Harry's company.

Harry glanced over at Sarah. He could not help but notice how starkly her bright red eyes stood out against their snow-covered surroundings. No matter how much he was trying to get used to it, he still found it unnerving.

After several more minutes of quietly walking along together, they reached a part of the neighborhood which looked markedly nicer than the parts that they had traveled through to get here. The homes were larger and more widely spaced apart, and it seemed as if all of them were inhabited. Still following Snape, they turned down another lane and continued on. Harry was examining the nicer-looking houses with interest. Half way down the lane, however, he stopped when he suddenly realized that he was alone.

Snape had stopped suddenly, and was standing so rigidly that Sarah, whose arm was still locked in his, almost tumbled down into the snow at the abrupt halt in forward momentum. Withdrawing her arm from his, she turned about to face him. Harry, several paces ahead of them, turned back as well.

"What? What is it?" Harry asked nervously, certain that Snape, whose vigilance had not gone unnoticed by him, had spotted something dangerous. His own hand was reaching inside his cloak, feeling for his wand. Sarah, having jumped to the same conclusion that Harry had, was also feeling for her wand, her body tense.

Snape did not reply immediately. He had been walking along blindly, unaware of where his feet had been unconsciously leading him. Memories which had lain dormant for so long were suddenly rushing back to him. This lane was full of them. He was brought back to his senses when he noticed the boy, as well as the girl, scanning the houses around them on the lane, their wands drawn.

"Nothing, it's nothing," he said stiffly, frowning at their drawn wands. Both Harry and Sarah quickly tucked them away again. Snape continued walking again without preamble, his black eyes downcast to the snow at his feet and his cloak billowing about him. "Your mother lived here when she was a girl," he said quietly. Sarah quickly jumped into stride beside him again, glancing back at Harry eagerly, but Harry remained rooted to the spot. His eyes widened at Snape's words, taking in the house which stood before him.

The scathing little girl that Harry recalled in Snape's memory had been correct; his mother and his aunt lived in a much nicer part of the neighborhood than the Snape family had. This home was significantly bigger than the home on Spinner's End, and unlike most of the houses on Spinner's End, it was well-kept and appeared to be inhabited. Harry stood quite still, his bright green eyes sweeping over the home, wondering what kind of memories it would have held for his mother, and simultaneously wondering what kind of memories it still held for Snape. Snape, he knew, had visited here in his youth, while he was still close friends with Lily. How many happy days had they shared here, playing together, and discussing the world of magic that was so new and fascinating to his mother? Had Petunia eavesdropped on them, so eager to learn more about the world that she claimed to detest, a world which was so painfully out of her reach?

When Snape and Sarah had put some distance between themselves and where he still stood, Harry glanced over at them. Reluctantly, he forced himself to stop staring at the house and quickly hurried after them. Snape seemed to be walking with a renewed vigor, keen on getting away from this particular lane and its memories as quickly as possible. Sarah trod along beside him, almost having to jog to keep up with his long-legged strides. Harry caught up to them quickly enough, but remained quiet as he fell back into stride beside Sarah; he wouldn't dare inquire anything else about the childhood that Snape and his mother had shared together, despite his burning desire to know more.

"It's quite cold," Snape said as they turned off of the lane on which Lily's former home rested, "We should return."

As they followed beside him, Sarah glanced over at Harry helplessly. Harry glanced to Snape, and it would have been difficult not to notice the transformation in demeanor that had taken place. Before they had encountered Lily's former home, Snape had been vigilant, almost to the point of paranoia. Now, however, he walked with his eyes downcast to the snow at his feet, and his hands thrust deeply into his pockets, no longer walking arm-in-arm with the girl beside him. Harry looked back to Sarah with a shrug. He knew how touchy of a subject all of this was, and his shrug was an attempt to convey that it should probably be left alone.

Several minutes of silent walking ensued, save for the sound of thick, wet snow being compacted beneath their feet. Snape still did not lift his eyes. Without looking, he was letting them beat the familiar path back to Spinner's End from the lane where Lily's house had been in the same way that they had unconsciously carried him there in the first place. Sarah was walking at his side, looking defeated and helpless, unable to do anything about Snape's sour new mood. Harry, meanwhile, was searching for some way to diffuse the situation. When an idea hit him, he smiled broadly to himself.

Suddenly, Harry stopped walking and stooped low to the snow-covered ground.

Sarah caught this in the corner of her eye and stopped too, turning about to look at him. Snape walked on.

"Harry, what--," Sarah began, but was unable to finish her sentence before a large snowball struck her, exploding on impact and covering her in snow. Dumbstruck, she stared at Harry, blinking at him rapidly in surprise. Harry only smiled back, his bright green eyes glittering from behind snow-flecked lenses. A moment later, Sarah smiled back, stooping down into the snow and quickly packing a snowball together.

Before she could complete her snowball, however, Harry had struck her with another, covering her hair in snow.

"Hey!" she shouted, packing together her snowball and standing, shaking her head back and forth to sweep the snow out of her long hair.

When the girl shouted, Snape wheeled about, his wand pointed in her direction. A shot of adrenaline had coursed through him. Perhaps in his slackened vigilance, he had let someone approach them, unnoticed. Instead, he found the girl standing with her right arm aloft, holding a snowball, ready to launch it. Her target, the boy, was already in flight. When she tossed her snowball at him, he had already ducked behind a tree; the snowball exploded on its bark, the heavy snow sticking to it in a starfish-like shape. Snape could hear laughter coming from both of them. The girl had already crouched down again, packing together another snowball, but the boy was fast. Before she had finished packing it, he sent another of his own at her from behind the tree.

"Oof!" Sarah exclaimed, Harry's snowball hitting her with such force that she toppled over where she crouched, losing her balance. "Ouch, that one hit my werewolf marks, you little--!"

Snape's eyes widened in concern and he lowered his wand, fearing she was injured, but even as she said this, she was laughing and smiling as she continued packing together a snowball where she lay. The boy peeked out from behind his tree, grinning widely and laughing.

"Sorry!" Harry shouted back. He realized his mistake immediately, ducking back behind the tree as Sarah's snowball soared past the place where his head had just been. He was on his knees quickly, packing together another snowball. Before he could pack it to exactly the size he wanted, he could hear fast-approaching footfalls coming toward him.

He sprang to his feet just as Sarah rounded the tree, another snowball held aloft in her right hand. As he ran from her, he was struck squarely in the back by her snowball. He spun about to return fire as he continued running, and he could tell from the soft thump that he had made contact. He ran past Snape, who was standing quite still, watching them with a bemused expression upon his face.

Sarah stooped down again as Harry ran past Snape, packing together another snowball as quickly as she could. Harry stooped several yards away as well, working feverishly on his own snowball. Sarah finished first, sending it straight at Harry, who was struck on the top of his head, covering his own hair in snow. With his own snowball finished, Harry stood, arm held back in preparation to throw, watching as Sarah stooped to the snow again. Snape was standing between them, with most of his back facing him. Green eyes darted from the girl crouched in the snow to the dark man standing beside her several times before he made his decision. Instead of throwing the snowball at Sarah, he lobbed it at Snape. It hit him on the shoulder.

Snape rounded on the boy, his features ablaze, but the boy only smiled back at him, laughing. As he met the boy's bright, laughter-filled green eyes with his own, more memories raced through his mind, unbidden, and frighteningly vivid. They clouded his vision and sent him spinning backwards into recollection. A laughing, green-eyed, red-haired girl in the winter time, snow surrounding her; it had not been uncommon for Lily to start snowball fights with him. Once, she had caused an entire tree, its boughs laden with heavy snow, to dump its contents directly on top of his head as he passed underneath it. Initially, he had been sour about such jokes, but her infectious laughter would soon catch hold of him.

Despite his initial anger with the boy for hitting him so blatantly with a snowball, he remained standing there, rooted to the spot, his black eyes frighteningly large as visions of a young Lily swam past his mind's eye.

The girl behind him was laughing too; it was this sound that snapped him back into reality. In an instant, his vision of Lily shimmered back into the form of her green-eyed, untidy-haired son, standing before him still laughing and smiling. The expression that now washed over Snape's features was stuck somewhere between anger and confusion until the girl behind him spoke.

"Are you going to take that from him, Severus?" the girl shouted, laughing hysterically at Snape, standing there covered in an explosion of snow. She was still packing together her own snowball, which was reaching an incredible size.

Snape blinked, his eyes focusing further on Harry, who was still smiling and laughing, daring him toward reprisal.

In less than the blink of an eye, Snape made a sweeping movement of his right hand, which still held his wand; a veritable tidal wave of snow shot up from beneath Harry's feet, engulfing him wholly and sending him flying several feet back into a snowdrift against an old, gangly tree. As he struck it, heaps of snow which were piled heavily in the tree's boughs fell down upon him.

Harry sputtered and coughed where he landed, struggling to his feet as he labored to brush snow out of his face with both of his arms.

"Hey!" he yelled between snow-induced coughs, "No wands!"

Snape's breath caught in his throat as another memory rushed back to him in frightening detail... a little, fiery red-haired girl, her hair standing out vividly against the pile of white snow which engulfed her by his doing, shouting at him... "No fair, Sev! No wands!"... Instead of protesting that she herself had just used her wand to dump an entire tree's worth of snow atop his head, he simply chuckled, stowed his wand within his robes, and crouched down into the snow, packing together a snowball in the old fashioned, Muggle way...

"Come on, Severus!" the girl's shouting jerked him back into reality a second time. "Help me out, here!"

He quickly saw the girl dart past him, toward the boy. She lobbed her snowball at him forcefully, but he rolled out of the way just in time, causing it to strike the tree behind him and explode in a shower of glittering flakes. After she had tossed it, she glanced back at him, smiling. Snape looked back at her for only a moment before a mischievous smirk tilted his mouth, and he too crouched down into the snow, packing together a snowball, just as he had done in his youth.

"Blimey!" Harry shouted as he peaked out from behind his new tree, realizing that he was now being double-teamed. Oh well, he thought to himself, I asked for it!

Sarah and Snape, both with freshly-formed, hand-packed snowballs were soon chasing after him. Before he knew what was happening, he was being pummeled from all sides. As he ran along in front of them, trying to evade their barrage, a particularly well-aimed shot from Snape hit him on the side of the head, stinging coldly and sending his eyeglasses askew several yards away from him. As Harry dove for his glasses, Sarah dove for him with amazing agility, tackling him in the snow, laughing wildly. Harry tried to wrestle himself free, but soon ended up pinned underneath her. She seized his right arm and rolled his sleeve back, exposing his newly-acquired claw marks, courtesy of Fenrir Greyback. She then grabbed a handful of snow and began smearing it up and down his arm, all the while laughing.

"See?" she shouted, smiling as she tormented her friend by rubbing snow into his werewolf wounds, "Doesn't feel very good now, does it?"

Harry squirmed feebly, unable to keep himself from laughing. The snow being rubbed into his wounds actually felt quite refreshing in a strange way. By what little he could see through his snow-covered glasses, Snape was now looming above him too, another large, hard-packed snowball held ready in his hand.

"Alright, alright, I surrender, I surrender!" Harry yelled, still trying to wrench himself free of Sarah. As soon as his official surrender had been delivered, Sarah let go of him, rolling off of him and getting to her feet. Both Sarah and Harry were laughing quite hard as they brushed excess snow off of their clothing, and even Snape bore a sort of jovial-yet-disappointed look as he dropped his fresh snowball to the ground, denied of the chance to toss it at their enemy who had just surrendered.

During the course of their snowball fight, they had traveled most of the way back to Spinner's End. Harry thought it quite ironic has he stepped through the front door, wondering when he ever might have thought, during his entire lifetime, that Snape's home might ever feel warm and welcoming to him. With a hasty flick of Snape's wand, the fireplace was roaring. All three of them had become quite soaked with snow. After they had shed their outer layers, they warmed themselves by the fireside. Without having to be asked, Snape had soon prepared them a large pot of tea.

Sarah and Harry spent most of the day sitting by the fireside, laughing together between applications of the foul-smelling ointment to their wounds provided by Snape. As they sat by the fireside, Snape sat on the sofa in the middle of the room, watching the two of them, his expression inscrutable, yet somehow pleasant.


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Later that night, Snape and Sarah were curled up comfortably in Snape's bed, just as they had been the previous night when Sarah had asked him to stay with her. Harry was long asleep in his own bed in the guest room, and just as an extra precaution, Snape had taken the time to close the door to the room where he and Sarah slept, just in case. She certainly seemed to be feeling much better, judging from her performance in the snowball fight earlier that day. She had managed to aim quite a few skillful shots at Potter, but none of them quite matched his own shot which knocked Potter's glasses from his face. Replaying it within his mind, he smirked to himself.

The lamps in the room where burning lowly, and both of them were not quite yet asleep underneath the covers. Sarah was wearing an old pair of Snape's robes as nightclothes, just as he had dressed her in them after her injuries, when her own clothing had been torn and bloody, and he had not yet had a chance to repair them. Snape, however, had climbed into bed nude, hoping the girl was too drowsy to notice. This night, he had not administered a Sleeping Draught to her, hoping that she would finally be able to rest well on her own. The girl, however, was cleverer than he expected; the unmistakable intensity of the body heat radiating off of him had immediately given away the fact that he was lying against her, nude.

As soon as he began falling asleep himself, there was a warm hand feeling its way along his thigh, toward his...

"Mmph," he protested, seizing the girl's wandering hand with his own; they were lying in a spooning position, the girl lying at his front. "And just what do you think you are doing?" he drawled, smirking. Lying so close to her, he inhaled deeply, breathing in the scent of her hair.

Sarah's eyes darted about nervously in the room's semi-darkness. She had been caught.

"Perhaps I should have given you a Sleeping Draught after all," Snape continued, his tone deep and smooth, yet jocular. "What do you think? Or did you want me to give you something... else," he pressed his lower body into her firmly, "To help you get to sleep?"

Sarah swallowed hard. Her face was burning and her heart was racing. After missing physical intimacy with this man so much, having his naked body pressed up against her was quickly getting to be too much. His hand was still wrapped tightly around her wrist, and his touch was unbearably warm.

Snape's eyes narrowed slightly. The girl did not respond, but he could tell from the quickening pulse in her wrist, as well as her breathing, that she was fast becoming aroused. Several more moments of silent, heated tension passed before the girl finally spoke, during which Snape began to gently kiss a bit of neck that was exposed to him.

"But--," Sarah started, her voice very quiet, "But last night you said--"

"Last night, I believe you were in much greater discomfort than you are now, am I correct?" Snape asked, still kissing the back of her neck and pressing his body closer to hers. "You threw quite a few snowballs today, and you were hit by just as many, but did not complain to me once of pain... except during your treatments, of course."

The girl squirmed a little against him, her arousal heightening when his obvious desire was pressed firmly against her. He released her wrist, instead using his hand to feel his way up her stomach and to her breasts, where he began to caress them gently. The girl moaned softly, pressing herself back into his naked body firmly, wanting to be closer to him in every possible way.

"Although," Snape said, his voice laced with concern as well as teasing, "I still don't want to put your body through any extra stress, so--"

Before he finished his sentence, the girl squirmed and whined loudly in protest, thinking that he had just been teasing her all along. With his arm wrapped around her, he pulled her very hard against him to quiet her.

"So," he continued more loudly, "I will just have to be extremely gentle, won't I?"

The girl's form relaxed against him, and he smiled to himself in the darkness, continuing to caress her breasts through her clothing and kiss the back of her neck. With his other hand, he brushed some of her long hair away, exposing more of her neck to him. At the same time, he snaked his hand underneath her shirt to touch her skin. When he began caressing her skin, she arched against him, quickly wanting more. The girl no doubt missed sharing physical intimacy with him, but as much as she missed it, he missed it even more. He soon found himself drowning in the girl's intoxicating scent, and the symphony of sounds he would coax from her body at the simplest touch. He was now painfully hard, pressing himself against her. When he felt her hand wandering down his thigh for a second time, he seized her wrist again.

"In your eagerness, you are forgetting something quite important," he said, nipping her neck playfully.

"What?" the girl breathed, desperate to have him take her.

Releasing his grip on her, Snape rolled out of the bed and made his way around it to the side where the girl lay. Distressed at his sudden absence, she followed his form intently with her eyes. As he would pass before one of the lowly-burning lamps mounted along the walls, she would catch faint glimpses of his naked, leanly-muscled body, the most noticeable feature of which she was unable to easily look away from. He reached her side of the bed and opened the top drawer of the nightstand, quickly digging through its contents. There was a faint rustling of paper, as well as the tinkling of bottles. After only a moment, Snape withdrew the item he was seeking and held it out to the girl.

Momentarily confused, she glanced up at his shadowy form in the semi-darkness, blinking.

"Drink it," he stated.

"Oh, right," Sarah said, taking the small bottle from him. She had forgotten all about the necessity of taking a contraceptive potion. During the few seconds that it took her down the potion, Snape was already back in bed, pulling her close to him. She let the empty bottle fall to the floor where it landed with a dull thud and rolled out of sight underneath the bed.

"But seeing as you are quite eager," Snape breathed against the back of her neck, pulling her even closer before the girl had much time to react, "I won't disappoint you," he said, wrapping one arm tightly around her middle and using the other to pull down the bottom half of her nightclothes completely. He then pulled her as close to him as he could. His hold on her was firm yet gentle; he was trying to keep the girl's body as still as he could to avoid jarring it and possibly causing her pain the process.

He was breathing heavily into her ear when he slipped one of his legs between hers, using it to separate them, spreading her open for him. One of the girl's hands was on the arm that he had wrapped securely around her, and the other was again on his thigh, trying to urge him into the ultimate closeness. When he had enough room, he positioned himself at her entrance, just the tip of him barely touching her; it immediately became obvious how wet both of them were. After hesitating for only a moment, he tightened his hold around her middle and took a hold of her hip with his other hand. Pulling her back against him, he gently eased himself inside.

During the blissfully blinding moments it took for him to ease himself inside of her, he hadn't noticed himself biting down gently on the girl's earlobe, or the way his fingers possessively drove themselves into the soft flesh of her hip. He did, however, hear the girl's loud moan of pleasure.

"Shh," he whispered into her ear, barely able to refrain from thrusting into the girl as he pulsed inside of her, "I didn't soundproof the room, we don't want to traumatize your friend."

With this, Sarah swallowed hard and bit down on her lower lip in an attempt to quell any further noise.

The only sounds in the room became their labored breathing as Snape began to thrust slowly but powerfully into her, all the while keeping her body quite still. The girl arched slightly against him, but she could not move much because of his tight hold on her. If she moved too much, he knew, it might cause her pain. Indescribable pleasure was soon washing over both of them, but the girl still managed to keep her noise level at a minimum, and Snape did not lose sight of his effort to keep the girl's body unmoving. As their pleasure quickly heightened, he bit down on the girl's shoulder, causing her to moan more loudly, but she quickly stifled herself. He was unsure of how much time had passed when he felt the girl tighten around him and explode, her body trembling powerfully as her inner muscles gripped him again and again. Biting down on her neck, he thrust once more into her, extremely hard, driving himself as deeply as he could, and then holding both of them quite still as he emptied himself into her depths. It seemed to last for minutes.

When both of them descended back into reality, the girl gave a great sigh of relief, which Snape echoed by humming deeply in an amused sort of way, smiling to himself again as he held the girl against him after withdrawing from her.

"Feeling better?" he asked.

"Yes," the girl replied, closing her eyes and yawning softly. "That was much better than another Sleeping Draught. What about you?"

Snape began tenderly running long, smooth strands of the girl's hair between his fingers.

"Much better," he said softly. "I have missed this, greatly." He paused, taking a deep breath. "After I threw you out of my office on that day, I was afraid that I had done something to you which would make you never want to see me again... at least, not like this."

"You were?" the girl asked, turning over to face him. His features were just visible in the dim light.

"I was terrified," he admitted again.

"But then, why did you--,"

"I kept my distance afterward because I--," he paused, unable to form the end of his sentence.

"Because you're stubborn?" she suggested, placing her right palm flat on his chest, over his heart. Her wrist was still wrapped with bandages to cover the mark, and she could feel his heart beating. He smirked, covering her hand with his own.

"I believe that is a fair assessment," he agreed. The girl's smile seemed to shine through the darkness. "I was afraid of losing you because of Potter, just like--," he swallowed hard, but remained silent for a few moments. "He had put you in extreme danger, and now he has put you through even more," he continued, his voice stern but not angry. "You could have died."

Sarah remained silent for a few moments as well. They continued to gaze at each other in the darkness.

"Harry hasn't made me do anything that I didn't want to do," she said calmly. "He didn't put me in any sort of danger. I put myself in it, and he also saved my life."

Snape closed his eyes, feeling conflicted about what to say next. It was true that the boy had saved her life, but part of him could not stop himself from blaming the boy for the danger that she had been put into in the first place. At the same time, he realized that she shared an equal part in the blame for putting the both of them into such terrible danger by agreeing to go along with it, and that there was probably nothing he could do to prevent her from doing it again. He had overheard her conversation with the boy last night; they had agreed to keep searching for the truth behind what had happened, and doing so would no doubt place them in danger again one way or another. There was something more going on than what met the eye. There had been people waiting to ambush them in that Muggle neighborhood. He was sure that someone knew what was really going on, and both the boy and the girl knew the same. They would not stop searching.

"I know," he said at last, "And when you showed up on my doorstep barely clinging to life, I realized something."

"What?"

"I realized that I had almost lost you... in more ways than one," he said solemnly, pressing her hand more firmly into his chest with his own. "I almost drove you completely away with what a fool I was," he continued, "And then, I was busy brooding about it while you were almost killed."

"Severus, you--,"

"No, listen," he insisted.

The girl fell silent, listening intently. It was a rare thing to have Snape opening up like this, and it appeared that he was not about to stop now.

"I know that there is nothing I can do to stop Potter -- Harry, and you, in your search," he continued, holding the hand that was pressed to his chest tightly, "But there is something else I can do."

Sarah remained silent.

"I can protect you. I won't..." he paused. I won't lose you like her, while I am forced to watch, helpless and powerless to stop it... "I won't let it happen again."

Both of them fell silent when Snape wrapped both of his arms around her, hugging her close to him. Neither spoke another word that night before sleep overtook them.


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A/N: There you have chapter 25! I hope you enjoyed it. I felt that we needed a bit of a lighter, more "fun" chapter after how dark the past few chapters have been. And of course, we were long overdue for a lemon. Those bad guys, though, they're still plotting!

So how about all that Harry Potter news lately?! Have you guys seen the Half-Blood Prince trailer? And did you all hear that they're going to publish The Tales of Beedle the Bard?! How awesome is that! I can't wait.

Again, sorry to have kept you waiting so long for this chapter! I definitely don't expect to have the same degree of wait time between this chapter and the next :) As always, thank you for reading, and please leave a review if you would be so kind. Stay tuned to The Name in Red!