It was ten years ago today that I posted the last chapter of "The Birthday Present". I bet you thought I forgot!

This story, like BP, is totally AU to both Half-Blood Prince and Deathly Hallows. Frankly, if you are new to this particular part of the HP universe, please read "The Birthday Present" first. I have grave difficulty summarizing that long a story. Let's just say that the summer and early autumn after Order of the Phoenix is a lot different than in canon (for instance, Snape is still a pureblood, but he was raised in Knockturn Alley rather than in Cokeworth, and met Lily only at Hogwarts).

Speaking of canon, the Harry Potter universe is of course Ms. Rowling's (and her various assigns, including Warner Brothers). No money is being made through the writing of this story, and chapters will be updated with extreme irregularity, since I have professional writing to do. I have also updated my author profile to allow people to know what I'm up to these days.

Chapter 1: Knockturn Alley

Arthur Weasley

Arthur Weasley lurked as quietly as he could, and felt silly in his concealing cloak. He hated having to wait for Snape to show up, but had learned from his little encounter with Nagini that perhaps he shouldn't try anything stupid on his own. His ordeal in St. Mungo's, and Molly's fussing, had cured him of that ambition.

Well, almost. He listened to reports from others in the Order at Grimmauld Place, and sometimes longed to be a real hero like many of the others. That dashing little Tonks, for instance, often had adventures that should curl her hair if she let it do so, and never mind what Moody still got up to at his age. Then again, he wouldn't dare ride that motorbike that Tonks used, nor did he want to spend most of a year locked in a chest at Hogwarts the way that Moody had. His own sojourn in hospital had mostly cured him of it.

Of course, the one he sometimes admired the most was Snape. At times, the potions professor seemed like a figure out of Muggle spy literature. The Order now appreciated him a little bit more, after times of having to do without him. Most of the people there had a better idea that Snape likely did have an expiry date, and that perhaps they should think about what to do if it came too early.

And here I am, keeping him up late on a school night. I really could have done this myself, he thought. But then, that's what I thought right before Nagini nearly killed me, so perhaps I'm not the best judge here.

Arthur was just wondering if Snape was going to make it, or had something go wrong again, when he spotted the tall, lanky figure strolling along—with those legs, Snape could walk a mile to everyone's half for nearly everyone but Hagrid. But things must be all right—the potions master wasn't doing his usual checking for something wrong that Arthur had seen him do at times. And maybe not checking will get him and maybe me killed.

Well. He should be doing some of this too, and not just leave it to others. He'd been certain that Dung had cleared the place out when he'd been attacked last year, too. He used the cowl of his hood as a shield, and looked behind Snape to make sure his partner wasn't being followed, at least not in any obvious way, and then, as casually as he could manage, struck up a light and started off his third cigarette. Molly would rag on him something fierce when he came home, if she was still awake, for fouling his breath and lungs, but there were times that a fag was the only thing that kept him alert on this kind of post.

Snape's hood covered his face as well. In the light of the cigarette, though, he looked tired—after a day of teaching it was no wonder, never mind the health problems and other duties the poor man must endure. His own house was a quiet one these days, at least while school was in session. Of course, the madhouse known as the Ministry usually made up for that, but Arthur wondered at times if Snape ever had any peace.

Then again, maybe these assignments were the way he managed. He coughed, only partly from the cigarette smoke, and suddenly Snape was right there, on alert. "What game did we play at my birthday party?" the spy asked in a low voice.

"Kissing my wife at Snapdragon," Arthur said, amusement in his voice. "And she didn't seem to mind it a bit. Don't worry, I didn't either."

The other man blinked. "I am surprised to hear that."

"Well, if it had gone any further, I would have complained, but I think any man who doesn't want to kiss her has something wrong with him." He laughed a bit.

"Ah. Don't you have a question for me?"

"Not a one. Your face just went pink thinking about it yourself," Arthur said.

The other man snorted, softly. "Any man with eyes might do that," he said.

"Well, true, but I haven't noticed good vision on the part of the other side any time these last few years," Arthur replied. Yes, Snape hadn't minded being kissed by Molly at all. Then again, there were few men who did.

"I'm surprised you think you're safe around me," Snape said with sardonic humor.

"Ah, but the Order knows you're with me tonight. If you mean to shove me aside to take my place, you'll do it a continent away and everyone would see it was an accident after fifteen people witnessed it."

"Glad you think that I'm that capable," Snape said with a half-laugh. "So, what are we watching for, specifically? I know the old bat who runs the store across the street, and our noble leader was less than forthcoming, as usual."

"Well, now that's silly," Arthur said. "It's no secret at the Ministry that someone is smuggling in Ashwinder eggs, though we're not certain what they're hidden in. As usual, Nora is supposed to be the go-between."

"That would be stupid—I know what she likes to brew, and I don't think she would care for her shop going up in flames if the eggs were exposed to it. Perhaps she herself doesn't know exactly what's in the surprise package," Snape said, looking thoughtful.

"Wouldn't be the first time someone's picked up a present and have it turn into a snake," Arthur said. Which was all too close to what happened to him, but he would rather not admit it here and now.

"We'd best check the back door, too. We really need four people, not two—it would be too easy for whoever is waiting to move things along the moment we leave for the back, or have them stuffing it through the back as we stand here," Snape grumbled. "Although it might be easier to wait till Nora actually has the goods and watch her face when we tell her about the Ashwinder eggs. I don't think she'll mind spilling names once she knows that."

"Well, I had an idea along those lines. I saw a Muggle magazine where they advertised something called a 'security alarm' that howls like a banshee if anyone touches it, for their automobiles. I tried one out on our new auto, and magic doesn't bother it. Caught one of the twins, don't know what they wanted to do to it, and hope I don't find out, messing with the door. I bought another one and set it on the back door of Nora's. It has the same color as the door frame, and since it's not magical, shouldn't be detected till it's too late. We should remove it when we leave, though. I was told the 'batties' in it should last for several days, never mind just tonight." Arthur was rather proud of himself for following the instructions at home till he could set up without looking at them and still have it work right. Molly had put up a Silencio around his whole shop after the first few times it'd gone off. Now, if someone put a Silencio around the door first and then opened it, he might be in trouble, but he didn't think anyone would do that. He hoped.

Snape nodded. "If Nora is accepting very late deliveries, she's not likely to have any alarm of her own up. Did you come across Bill the Spike back there when you put it up? He lives in that pile of garbage nearby."

"I waited till he went on his evening begging run to set it up. Unless he's twins, I doubt he saw me. Now, taking it back down without him seeing might be a bit of a problem."

"I'll supply him with a distraction," Snape said.

Traffic in the dismal part of Wizarding London was slow this evening, and right now non-existent. Arthur heard activity in the area—a cat was doing his courting a block away, while there was some excitement a block in the opposite direction.

"You don't know this area as well as I do," Snape said. "It's more quiet than usual, but part of that is being mid-week. We wouldn't find a private corner anywhere here on the weekend. It sounds like the Deplorables are having another party, though, they pay no attention to the calendar that I can tell."

"Who are they?"

"Association of people who think they are much rougher than they actually are. Half of them are merchants from Diagon Alley who like a little walk on the other side and think they're bold for coming here. Though some robbers discovered that there was nothing wrong with their wandwork last year, and the Alley laughed themselves sick—Fletcher told me all about it after an Order meeting was over. They like to throw banquets. Still, they'll be worth watching once it lets out; not everyone there is on the up and up, and they might think it's a good time to move some merchandise, or collect it."

"You…you grew up here, right?" Arthur expected to have his nose bitten off for asking, but had to know if the rumors were true.

"Yes." Snape didn't scowl, for a change. For once Arthur waited to see if more might be forthcoming. He'd seen the results when even the Headmaster prodded a bit too much.

Silence fell. They stepped into further shadows—they were probably talking too much as it was. Arthur decided to show how patient he could be, for once. He rarely had to wait long for any of his lot to say anything! Well, Ginny had been too quiet after that first year, and Percy…Ginny had grown out of it, but Percy was usually too busy trying to defend himself against whatever the twins had planned to offer opinions of his own. And as Madam Umbridge's assistant, he suspected his third son had little to say for himself. Then again, he knew when his own views weren't wanted there, though he was still bad at giving them anyway.

Snape could teach silence to a sphinx. Given how he was ragged every time he said something, Arthur couldn't blame him. Things were better in the Order for him than they had been, but things could turn again, especially with Moody starting to speak up out of turn. Oh, he fell silent again once Molly glared at him, and Albus certainly didn't even appear to encourage such comments or let them pass the way he did when Sirius was still alive…but Arthur didn't like it one bit, though he didn't know what he could really do about it.

Still, after every Order meeting, he and Molly compared notes and wrote some of them down—and went over them again after the next one ended, in case they'd let themselves be persuaded into something they knew wasn't quite right. Molly kept them with the ghoul, and there was no safer place in Britain. Snape still didn't attend every meeting, nor could he with his health the way it was.

Then Snape spoke softly. "We lived in an apartment a few floors above Nora's. She was still there then and probably always will be…the gin shop was just across the street, though, and that caused trouble."

"I don't wonder," Arthur said. Now, was it his mother or his father who drank, or both? Didn't matter that much. Life could still be hellish in any combination for a child. His relatives didn't drink that much, but he'd heard stories about the Prewetts—Molly's brothers were known to tip a few too many, one of the reasons they'd died or so he'd heard, and they had all seen Sirius Black in his cups too many times.

More silence. Arthur added something, knowing he was probably pushing too much. "Ah, families aren't always perfect, no matter how they look from the outside. And some families look horrible from all sides. Just say the word and you can borrow ours. There's always room for one more at our table."

"Your son Percy doesn't think so."

Arthur felt his face grow hot as he remembered the guardianship hearing. "Maybe he felt left out with so many loud ones before and after him. Maybe Molly asked too much of him too young, with Ronald and Ginny so little and the twins such a handful. But I don't think he'd mind you—for one thing, the twins pay attention when you speak."

"I wish that was true, but they pretended well enough," Snape said. He didn't sound angry about it, though, which was a change.

In fact, Arthur hadn't seen him angry for a long time. No doubt Sirius Black being gone has helped, though Moody seems determined to keep up the comments despite what happened at the party. I wish Dumbledore would lean on him, God knows he won't listen to anyone else.

"Well, I had a bit of a talk with them over that poor Montague fellow," Arthur said. "How is he, anyway?"

"Ah. A bit slow to talk, but improving some over the last time I saw him," Snape said, who sounded surprised. No doubt he was.

"Good," Arthur said.

Then people began wandering the alley, who acted and chatted as if there was nothing wrong with this areas at all. No doubt they know this place and don't worry about it because it's their home, Arthur thought. He became more watchful, since it would be easier to perform anything doubtful under cover of the light crowd.

Someone darted to Nora's front door and tried the handle, but wandered off as it appeared to be locked. "Shall we look at the back door now, or wait to see if my alarm works?" Arthur asked quietly.

Then he saw children darting through the crowd—what on earth were they doing here, and up so late at that? His speculation was rewarded when he witnessed one young boy lifting something out of a drunk's robe pocket. He almost said something, but Snape put a finger up to his lips. He also saw a boy with a large box, and people bending over to look at it, while a second one helped himself to the contents of a pouch hanging from one of the onlooker's belt.

"Don't grab your pocket or any place where you keep your valuables, though hanging onto your wand would be a very good idea," Snape said, in a voice barely above a breath. "We are more visible than you think we are."

Arthur stopped himself from slapping a hand on his left-hand pocket, but grasped his wand a bit more firmly. He was glad to have a wall at his back.

Once the crowd thinned, Snape stepped out towards the box. Arthur stayed behind till the tall potions master gestured at him to come along.

Arthur couldn't take his eyes off the large puppy—the paws were like saucers, even though the rest of the body was in proportion. He had always wanted one or two dogs around the place, but raising them from puppies was impossible in the Burrow, not with the ghoul in the attic. I should have been more suspicious of how Scabbers was able to survive, though a rat can run into a hole even a ghoul can't slide into…

"Hey there, little one," he crooned and reached forward his hand to just in front of its nose. But the not so wee thing was standoffish to him. Snape, however, leaned forward and offered his hand, and the puppy was all over it as if he smelled of beefsteak. Arthur then remembered what his friend had said, and backed up a bit to make sure nobody tried to nobble anything out of their robes. One young boy, ten at the most, suddenly swerved away as if he'd spotted something more interesting elsewhere.

"Nice lure for the trade," Snape said to the boy with the puppy. "The usual arrangement with Harga's for after the banquet, I suppose?"

"Sure, Mr. Bartholomew always makes sure we have a squad at the back for taking care of what the cooks and waiters inside don't want," said the boy. "And we have to get rid of the puppy before she eats us out of house and home. The Boss said she was a Neapolitan mastiff, or something like that, and she'll end up as big as a Grim. So we set up the lure. Her name's Pansy…you aren't allowed to have dogs at the big school, though, Andy told us what was on the list."

"True. Not at the school itself," Snape said. "But I know someone who does have a dog, and he might want another, his current one is growing old."

Arthur hadn't thought of Hagrid, and nearly kicked himself for not thinking of the half-giant himself. He'd let Fang slobber on him a few times, and enjoyed it.

"Oh, I was supposed to ask you if you have any message for the Boss," the boy said. "He said the Dungbomb could come give lessons and take a few from him and call it even."

"Tell him that such an arrangement is all right with me," Snape said. "It seems quite equitable, and may even keep Mr. Fletcher out of trouble for the time he spends that way."

Arthur barely restrained a snort of laughter hearing that. He didn't think being hung in irons would do that. But Mundungus had his own sort of gifts, and many of them were the kind the Order needed.

Then Snape openly put a Warming charm on himself, and Arthur, thinking he knew why the other man did it now, performed the same charm on himself. The crowd was growing sparse, and if anybody was watching for magic, soon would have a clear field. Oh, he wasn't a brilliant spy like Marvin the Mad Muggle…but he could learn.

Then the howl of the alarm went off from behind Nora's. Having been briefed to do this ahead of time, Arthur pulled a shrunken broom, changed it back to normal size, and rode it quickly around the corner. Once on the ground again, he fired off a quick Lumos and was glared at by some wretched tramp with refuse hanging off him. "Here now!" Arthur bellowed. "What are you doing there?"

The fellow ran awkwardly deeper into the alley, but Arthur knew better than to pursue, at least by himself. He hoped Snape was still watching the front, in case the alarm had been a distraction. He waited till the tramp was well away, and then backed carefully out into the street corner again, trying to watch all sides at once as he did so. After all, what was the point of having a spy if it was clear he was working for the Order or the Ministry? Now that he thought about it, it was silly for Snape to be here at all.

He said as much once they were ensconced in the shadows again.

"All too true, but you realize that I report to the other side about the Order's folly on a regular basis. They will be vastly amused by tonight's doings, and I will wax eloquently on how Hagrid will believe anything I tell him, especially once he receives the gift of this monstrous puppy. Although I will warn Miss Parkinson that when Hagrid is calling her name, that he really doesn't mean her."

"Oh, yes, of course," Arthur said. He noticed that something rather large and wiggly was in the pocket of Snape's robe. "Aren't you worried that the puppy might, ah, forget it's housetrained?"

"If that's the worst thing that happens to this robe this week, I will be amazed," Snape said.

Arthur realized how much Snape had changed, and how much of himself he showed these days. He might show how he really feels to the enemy, too, and then he will die. He was astounded by how much regret he felt at the thought. Before, Snape was a grouchy, necessary person, put up with because of his utility, but otherwise to be shunned even when it was clear the man was on his last legs. But now…Arthur wished with all his heart that Snape would live to see the end of the war, and after, and didn't end up in Azkaban because of Fudge's or Umbridge's wish to seem important-or to find a scapegoat for their own incompetence.

"If you ever need a place to stay, Snape, the Burrow has a lot of rooms that don't show on the surface. There's a reason for the name. We thought it best to raise the children above ground, though it was a bit crowded, but if you don't mind the dungeons…" Arthur said quietly. It wasn't quite the ancient formula of hearth, table and bed, but that was for Molly to give out if she liked, not him.

"I understand you're not always popular at the Ministry," Snape murmured back. "We have a lot of room at Hogwarts if you and your wife end up persona non-grata, and Grimmauld Place is no longer available. Mrs. Malfoy plans to take possession of the house, if only to inflict the portrait on her beloved sister, but she plans to take as long as possible to do so. Still, we should not assume that she will be able to delay more than a month or so. I suggest that the Order find another place to meet."

"Wait a minute, didn't Harry inherit it?"

"Yes, but he should be of age when he asserts his rights. That won't be till this next summer. I will undoubtedly be asked to boobytrap various rooms with Portkeys made with items he might find irresistible to pick up, especially in his godfather's room. Your new son would be better off staying away for now."

Arthur saw the sense in it. "I would rather not use my home, and Hogwarts narrows things down a bit too much. But I don't want Harry in any more danger than he already is. Well…Lovegood is sound enough, even if he's a lunatic. Someone else needs to ask him if we can use his place, though. He won't talk to me since I'm a Ministry lackey, and he won't even answer the Floo with me at it since Percy ended up at Umbridge's elbow."

"That won't be hard. His daughter is in Har—in the boy's circle, and from all accounts, if she's cut, her father bleeds. That could become a liability if the girl ends up in a bad position. I have carefully not mentioned anything about her at meetings just in case. I learned, you see, since I was the one who first raised that whole damned guardianship issue." Snape uttered a quiet, heartfelt sigh.

"I think you've been punished enough for that," Arthur said. "Well, let's see how that works out. Lovegood's a pureblood for all his madness, but he's willing to say a lot of things in the Quibbler that nobody else is, and that will likely make him a target anyway. I will have to think this over."

The crowd disappeared, except for a small crowd of boys who went down the street and around the building where the party had been, Arthur thought towards its back entrance. He put together what the other man had said to the boy about Harga's and the leftovers. "Those boys…they're going for any food that the workers don't take home, aren't they?"

"Yes."

"Oh, dear." Arthur had gone to bed hungry a few times when his children and the occasional extra had fed well, but…this was wrong. Even the Prophet never said anything about Knockturn Alley except for the occasional bloody crime. He decided to ask a question about something else entirely. "Who is this Mr. Bartholomew? Is he the same person they call the Boss?"

"He trains lads in the art of distraction and thievery," Snape said. "Sometimes, one or two of them have enough magic to go to Hogwarts, and then I am told, though not last summer. Hagrid was contacted then instead."

"Oh, that's why Fletcher was involved," Arthur said. He realized that this was a part of the magical world that he had always dismissed. Perhaps the Ministry was making a big mistake, the same kind of mistake when they dismissed magical creatures and their rights.

"Yes, most of the people here have inhuman blood, are too poor to afford their own gear, or are Squibs. There is a surprising amount of Muggle blood mixed in as well—there's a certain amount of overlap with the Alley and a rather nasty Muggle neighborhood. Plus, there are also some normal businesses here, like Harga's, and a few wandmakers—not of Mr. Ollivander's quality, of course, but suitable for a number of needs."

"Including anonymity," Arthur said. "The twins don't actually make wands, not being stupid enough to attract the attention of the Ministry, but they do modify them on occasion. Apparently, Percy is setting up a little prank sometime soon, and wants wands that won't really work, but emit the correct light for various spells."

For a moment, Arthur thought Snape would laugh, though he made a strangled sound that could pass for it. If he lives past the war, he might learn to do it out loud. Well, he and Molly would do what they could to see that he did.

He spoke again. "What are the Ashwinder eggs we're looking do? I know they're dangerous, any fool knows that, but what kind of potions are they used it? It's been a long time since school for me, and Bellwood was never quite clear about some things."

"Just by themselves they're bad," Snape said, his voice falling into Standard Lecture Mode. "They have all the heat of an Ashwinder, but in a smaller package, which if handled properly can be used as a small explosive device. Not quite Fiendfyre, but sometimes you want something that can make holes and not try to eat the caster. Combined with certain potions, they can be dissolved and the potions end up with the same effects as Greek fire. As you know, they are on the forbidden list, but anyone who manages to import any might well end up rich, or should we say richer, since Mrs. Malfoy thinks it is her husband that is behind the transaction. No doubt he believes that if he can make suitable donations to suitable parties, that his stay in Azkaban might be shorter than it appears to be now."

Ah. Arthur had heard of the Malfoy connection through his own sources, but to have it corroborated by someone much closer to the family helped. "I've heard much the same, and sadly, I can name the Ministry officials who are mostly likely to profit, too."

"We need all this information in one place," Snape said with a bit of grumble in it.

"Yes, and not just the one place I'm thinking of. He knows all, sees all, but he could still end up hit by a load of dragon dung and then where are we?" Arthur made sure to keep his voice low.

"Other side has the same problem," Snape said in a very low voice. "Pity I can't find the dragon…"

Arthur nearly strangled holding back his own laughter, till he thought of something. "Charlie could probably help with that part."

"Hmm."

They waited there, watching nothing, for what seemed like hours, probably because it was. There was no noise, aside from a drunk trying desperately to hit a high note from a Warbeck song, except for some muted squeaks from Snape's pocket.

"They're not coming tonight, are they?" Arthur asked.

"No. I still think we will be better off confiscating them directly from Nora's, and for that, you'll need a couple of Aurors along with you."

"But none of them could sniff the wretched things out the way you can. Oh, wait, I have an idea…" Arthur whispered it to Snape, who nearly hit his head on the wall behind him in reaction. "It's not like he's given up the flask, after all, and we've all left hairs at Grimmauld place, Molly has to clean them all up after all the meetings."

"I'll…I'll think about it," Snape said.

"Just think, you can be as bad-tempered as you like and nobody will think anything of it," Arthur said.

"That is a temptation. Oh, and if we are going to leave soon, I should provide a distraction so you can remove that Muggle device from the back of Nora's. I'm sure everyone would be amused by it tomorrow morning, when business starts up again, but you might want to use it again."

"And that's why it's a good thing you were here, or I might have forgotten it," Arthur said. "Anything you'd would like set on fire here?"

"I see where the twins acquired their tendency for exciting demonstrations," Snape said. "I will admit I didn't care for the gin shop when I was younger. But the woman who runs it now isn't a bad sort. Perhaps this will do…" The other man shot off a spell that created a starburst explosion over the top of one of the other buildings, but it wasn't the Dark Mark—it seemed to be more of a Guy Fawkes thing and kept burning, though with no apparent damage to anything.

Arthur nearly kicked himself against for gawking, and sidled over to the alleyway, though he hoped the tramp was gone. He lit a healthy Lumos to flush out anybody in there, and then quickly disconnected his Muggle toy from the back door. I bet if I made enough of these, people might buy them for their own homes—most of the wrong sort wouldn't know what it was, and since it's not magical, can't be taken apart that way. Should write that down or tell Molly when I get home tonight, she remembers everything for me at times.

Once he was back, Snape canceled the spell. "One last thing, if you don't mind," he said as he pulled some magazines out of a different pocket than the one which held the puppy. "I confiscate these on a regular basis, and I thought I'd take this chance to have them autographed."

Arthur blinked. His work with the Mad Muggle comics had been very quiet—Ministry workers weren't supposed to moonlight, but raising seven children had been expensive. His cartooning skills from drawing lampoons of the teachers at Hogwarts had helped him earn a bit extra and put more food on the table when they'd needed it. "How did you find out?"

"Your son Ronald draws humorous Quidditch diagrams instead of taking notes in Potions at times. There was something familiar about the style, and flipping through one of these wretched things when I just can't look at any more essays, I noticed the little AW on some of them. I went through my collection, which I have built up over the years, and pulled all the ones I could find with those initials on them. If you would be so kind?"

"I'll do it in the morning and have them owled back to you," Arthur said. "My handwriting's bad enough on a desk with good light, or why I print half the time."

"Then I'll head back to the school now," Snape said. "I'm tempted to have a crisis with my potions again just to catch up on sleep."

"Do it," Arthur said. "I've closed my office door from time to time, and I know others who have, too. It can't be safe, trying to teach that class on short commons."

"True. I'll think about it," Snape said, and disappeared with a barely audible sound.

Arthur did the same, and was at the door of the Burrow. I should set up my own house with one of these for each outside door, he thought. Even a few seconds' warning might be all we need to stay alive.

Molly was there to greet him. "What took so long? Did you catch anybody?"

"Nothing there. Might try again during daytime, but not till Friday," he said. "There was a tramp who lived in an alley who seemed interested in the place, but he didn't stay around for me to ask him any questions."

"How was your friend tonight?" Molly knew who he had been standing watch with.

"Better," Arthur said. Then he sat down with her on the couch, shot off a Muffliato, and told her everything. It seemed odd to take such precautions in one's own house, but Order business was Order business, and he should probably have remembered it earlier. He mentioned it to Molly, and she agreed.

"But I renewed the wards on the place this morning," she said. "It's not like anyone would hear a lot anyway. Still, I think you're right. If they want to listen to me singing to the pigs, they're welcome to it. Other than that, our business is ours, and not anyone else's." She took out her knitting. "I heard about a Muggle book once where some woman kept everything she knew in the style of her knitting, they were called her registers, and she could read them like a book. I thought that was a good idea, so I make more afghans these days and fewer jumpers."

"So that's why so many cover the furniture at the old place—I thought it was just because it was so gloomy."

"Well, that, too—but if it's not safe there any more, I'll have to bring them back home and decide what to do with them next. But it's better than no records at all, and I'm the only one who can read them. I'll have to tell Professor McGonagall, though, since you're right about nothing too much all in one place. She does knitted lace, you know."

Arthur didn't, but saw why his wife would. "She would be a good one to know, then. Nobody would think it odd for her to have more projects, either."

"You're right, though I think Professor Sprout knits, too. No, wait, she crochets. You could make a code with that, too. Well, we'd best run along to bed."

Arthur canceled the Muffliato. "They can listen all they want for the rest of the night," he said with a sly leer.

"Yes, I'm sure they'll be fascinated by the way we both snore…"

Severus Snape

Snape arrived at the gates of Hogwarts. He was exhausted. Fortunately, his loyal broom hovered just inside. He didn't know if Blood Brooms could be miniaturized and brought with him safely—he would have to ask Professor Hooch about that. Still, he was happy to take a ride over to Hagrid's cottage rather than walk all the way. The puppy in his robe pocket had not enjoyed Apparation at all, and the poor thing was a mess from both ends because of it. He wearily banished as much as he could to spare the laundry house elves from dealing with most of it.

Once he arrived at Hagrid's door, he knocked, hoping the half-giant had not gone to bed, but knew how late it was. The door creaked open, and Hagrid stood there in his enormous nightshirt. He yawned. "You all right, Snape?"

"Just tired…and I have an early Christmas present for you."

The giant's gazed turned down to the puppy in Snape's hands. "Awww…come on in! Let's see if Fang will get along with it first, though."

Snape was glad to sit down, though not before he carefully placed the puppy down. "She's supposed to be quite big when she grows up—some kind of mastiff. And her name's Pansy, though at this age you could change it, she'd become used to another one."

"Huh…" Hagrid stooped and looked the little thing over. "I see what you mean, those paws are near big around as she is. Fang, here, boy…"

The slobbering hound waddled over. The damp weather hadn't been good for his joints, and he showed it more the older he became. Hagrid was clearly starting to be affected that way, too, even though he was relatively young for his ah…species. Snape shrugged. His joints sometime ached as well.

Fang sniffed Pansy, Pansy sniffed Fang—well. The big dog sat right down by the puppy, and in turn, Pansy snuggled at Fang's feet. She'll probably be lying on Fang's head by morning, Snape thought.

"Well," Hagrid said. "I expect the old boy won't mind having a girlfriend in a year or so. And she seems to have taken to you, too."

"She didn't like Apparation very much," Snape said, "but my robe is used to it."

"Yeh, I'll have to lay down some papers, and make sure Fang shows her the right places for that kind of thing," Hagrid said, as he mixed up a plate of brown stuff that Snape assumed was dog chow. "I hope you come out and see her every once in a while, though, puppies get lonesome.."

"And so do people," Snape said. "Young Mr. Potter might enjoy being around her, too. Her fur is quite dark, so if you name her 'Snuffles' instead of Pansy, he might gain some comfort, considering how well he loved his godfather."

Hagrid said, "Hadn't thought of that. That Miss Parkinson in your House might take on, too, if I go around calling her name." Then he laughed.

"It would probably do her good," Snape admitted. "But she has enough on her plate these days. I just want to keep her from killing young Malfoy before their Leaving Feast."

"If yeh don't smack them yourselves, is that it?"

Snape barked a laugh. "I've managed it so far." He took a deep breath. If only he could just stay here and sleep. This place felt safe to him, more than any other place in the castle or on its grounds. He forced himself to stand back up. "Ah. It's been a long day and I'm keeping you up. Hope the puppy by any name will let you sleep."

"That kind of thing never bothers me. Once she's up on the bed with us, she'll settle down. But you can just stay here for the night—you know that little Winky will keep an eye on things."

"That's the problem—she needs sleep, too, but won't ever admit it."

Hagrid brayed laughter. "Like master, like elf! You both need a nursemaid, and no mistake. Well, come by once a day for a bit, if the pup likes you and you're here, she'll like it better and not fuss as much."

Snape nodded. It had been nice to have some living thing take to him so quickly. He never could have a pet in the dungeons, of course, but Winky did her best to make up for that. He rode his broom back to the castle and inside the halls as well. Though his potions mix wasn't trying to kill him this week, he had little stamina. He was tempted to beg off the next detail on Friday checking out Nora's and stick the real Moody with the task. But it was that or end up burdened with Hogsmeade detail during the half-holiday two days from now. It was easier going after one shop than trying to ride herd on hormonal, and sometimes homicidal, adolescents, and that was without any idiotic raids by his insane compatriots in the Circle.

He sent a quick message by Winky to the Headmaster that he was alive, well, and that nothing had happened. He fell into bed, and dreamed of nothing till it was morning.