Chapter 87: The Failure of Perception

There were few things in life Lily thought she'd live to see that were less likely than Severus willingly dedicating time out of his day to attend a social function, much less one hosted by James. That it was to be held at a bar was the icing on the proverbial cake. What was the muggle idiom? Pigs had found flight.

"There'll be beer, company and some snacks so don't fill up," James continued enthusiastically at the dinner table, directing the conversation across Lily towards Sev.

More unusual still, Sev answered without a strict denying of circumstance. "If you insist on Hog's head, I'll not chance any of it."

Lily glanced between the two, not quite willing to believe her ears. This was a highly irregular situation Lily had never found herself in before, having James and Sev making plans without her.

"You two better not be off slaying dragons again," Lily interjected, half in jest.

"Oh no. We're going out on the town," James said as if taking her concerns very seriously.

"And yet I much prefer the dragon," Sev muttered.

Lily grinned at Sev's familiar grumblings. She honestly did not know what to make of this most unusual scenario, so it was oddly comforting to hear her husband so familiar reluctance. Her suspicions were raised even before she tested the waters with her question.

"Well? Do I get an invite?" She was honestly joking. Once upon a time she would have insisted on getting together with her girlfriends and doing the same, but she had since found reluctance in braving the outside world. Even her birthday had passed in this relative isolation, finding company in only Severus where once she would have had a throng of friends to celebrate with.

Now, she carried a secret far greater than herself and a knowledge that her ability to contain it rested on her tenuous grasp of Occlumency. She knew part of the deal of being let in on the project she worked on with Dumbledore was to stay within the protected walls of Hogwarts. Had she not been specifically instructed to stay hidden within Hogwarts, she likely would have erred on the side of caution regardless.

Especially since her brush with death and despair. Trauma was a foe that lingered long after the threat had gone. It made her appreciate all that Sev had endured all the more.

And worry all the more for the dangers everyone else was determined to endure.

James grimaced, seeming to exchange glances with Sev in a manner that allayed no suspicions. Sev scowled as if somewhat abashed, "I wasn't the one to mandate the no spouses rule."

"Right. And Marlene understands," said James quickly.

Lily arched a brow. "Oh, she did, did she? The same Marlene that managed to just about drink your wedding dry, said a night out at the pubs wasn't for her?"

"I know. Odd, right?" James said with an air of innocence that held about as much water as a perforated pail.

"And in the same vein, Sev had decided he wanted to hit a pub? Because if there's one thing I know Sev loves it's to drink in bars with his arch-nemesis," Lily said in a voice dripping with sarcasm.

James grimaced, "Oh, we're on far better terms."

"Barely," Sev muttered, which for him was more or less an agreement.

"And honestly, what better excuse to go to the pub than a not guilty verdict?"

Lily started. "Court was today?" She glared at her husband. "And when were you going to tell me?"

"I had told you the moment I knew of it," Sev answered with a frown.

"Oh," Lily muttered, feeling a little abashed. "Well, that was a week ago. I could have used a reminder."

It was a strange feeling Lily was working through. Elation at Severus and James finding common ground and a strange dejection for being left out. Though she had come to terms with the idea that there was parts of Severus' life that ran without her presence, his social life was seldom one. That he would willingly choose to go out and socialise without her dragging him kicking and screaming was honestly such an unexpected concept that she couldn't even begin to wrap her head around it. Of course, this was all well tinted by a healthy dose of disbelief. It all made for a confusing swirl of thoughts to work through which translated to her mangling of her steak and kidney pie.

Severus appeared to notice her poking apart her poor pastry and took pity on her. "Believe me, I would not have come had it not been for extraordinary circumstance."

"Oh? What's that?" Lily asked, perking up in her seat.

James helpfully supplied the answer. "We got his old house-buddy Urquart coming alone. He's an honest-to-goodness Auror now, did you know that?"

"No, I did not!" Lily exclaimed delighted with a clap of her hands. It all made a lot more sense.

"I had things I wished to speak with him on," Sev insisted after he swallowed his bite. A cottage pie tonight, slightly heavier than his usual choices for dinner. He was planning on staying out late, it seemed.

He was fooling no one. "That's Sev talk for – he misses his friend greatly and would like to catch up," Lily supplied to James, who nodded knowingly.

Severus grimaced into his sip of tomato soup. Perhaps reflexive embarrassment from the teasing, for Sev had always maintained himself as rather aloof and above things, even before his second take on life. It was only after Lily began this whole romance did he finally begin peeling back his veneer of calm indifference.

Sev did not express his heart, for he had learned throughout both lifetimes that he had rarely gotten what he wanted. He rarely expressed his excitement, for a part of him would always expect things to not go the way he wanted it to. He wore this indifference like an armour, shrugging off his disappointments as much for his own benefit as for others'.

"Go out and have fun, Sev," Lily implored. It occurred to her that it might be his first taste of a classic British night out with friends. He had endured too much of his youth too poor and in too ill of company to find himself among friends and fun. Perhaps in the secret life he led, he may have been able to casually step out with, but given what she knew about his situation and those he had kept close to, she had doubts they were the type to elect for a night on the town.

Sev nodded and pushed his plate back, allowing it to be whisked away by elven magic. "I will not overdo it."

"Oh, I was far more concerned about whether you'd actually let your hair down and have some fun," Lily remarked as she moved on to the desserts. With barely a glance, she summoned forth a serving of sticky toffee pudding with a pat of cream. Ordinarily, she would forgo the cream, but she felt the need to celebrate in her own way.

More clatters of fork against porcelain sounded as James helped himself to a second sizable serving of shank beef, seeming to break his rules about overeating before hitting the town. He didn't have half as much concern speaking halfway through a chew. "Well, we'll get a couple pints into him and see if some fun doesn't fall out."

This was a first. All homework was marked and up to date, and she had no pressing obligations for the night. A house-elf had popped in with a missive part way through her productive afternoon, informing her that the headmaster was to be unavailable for the night.

Had she known, she might have had something a little more planned than a book by the fireside. Not that her plans would have involved much since the advent of the war and her own crux to bear for the world.

Even had times been ordinary, she would have struggled to put together an event. Of her friends, only Marlene was readily available. Mary was always off to goodness knows where moonlighting as whatever work took her fancy. She didn't exactly have set hours of availability. The same went for Susan whose job by default was not a normal nine-to-five job. Pandora was engrossed with her higher studies, having been working towards the same Charms Masterclass certification Lily had once hoped to achieve, and it was doubtful that she had time to spend outside of her books. Or any inclination, if Lily were to be all honest.

She had framed her night around sitting cosily before a roaring fire, trying her best to focus on the tome she had picked from Albus' library, a hefty tome titled Artefacts of the Macabre and the Magics That Tame It. It was a toothsome tome of yellowing text impossibly preserved from centuries past, boasting language similarly dated in spelling and grammar from a time before standardised English. She was reading a very technical article on the topic of curse breaking of ancient artefacts that felt scribed by hands that practiced the very art. Not the usual affair Lily would ordinarily indulge in but one very relevant to her current endeavours.

But having lived the past few weeks hurtling at a thousand miles an hour, to find sudden pause for herself was all her active imagination needed to conspire to berate her. Finding herself unable to shake that intrusive feeling that she was not using her time constructively.

That was how she ended up sitting alone in the workroom, toiling over tasks she and the headmaster had shared. Taking to task for time she felt could no longer be spent at a leisurely pace, what with the fate of the world literally resting upon the success of their work.

She held in her hands those perfectly round pebbles that held upon the flat tops a number. The enchantments she and the headmaster weaved had been embedded into these little perfectly round, flat pebbles, the inked number a representation of their magical incarnation.

Since the finding of the sword, the headmaster had begun the testing of the stones upon the blade. Hundreds created in anticipation. She had been so hopeful at first, but with each stone that passed across the magical weapon, that hope waned and strained. That they had just reached the three-digit number without a viable result was both worrying and disheartening all at once. Though they had just as many stones kept in untested wait.

The magical experimentations had been complex. Spell crafting had been a topic Lily touched upon in her reading but seldom practiced. If she were to be all honest, she barely understood the complexities of what was needed to craft a spell.

Even without the complexities of linguistics, spell crafting required a powerful grasp of magic, which she had, and a sharp understanding of the principles underlying them, which she did not. The fundamentals of magic had been a topic taught with every major spellcasting school of magic but apart from being able to parrot the principles, Lily had little else to show for it.

Conversely, Albus Dumbledore seemed to hold dominion over the fabric of magic itself, his century of knowledge and experience manifesting itself in the ability to pull apart spells to their elements and utilise them to his whim.

Lily could barely keep up as she watched him mutter incantations, casting spell after spell into the formless putty that was the enchantment subject in flux. A flux that was Lily's duty to maintain. Between her fingers, the stone would form. Perfect and circular in its inception, but each feeling somehow heavier in her hands than their forms had untouched by magic. A change confirmed by a Magical-Artefact-Revealing spell taught to her by Madam Swelley during the days where she had fancied herself an Enchanter in training.

Lily couldn't describe the magic that took hold in those stones. None of the enchantments seemed to take physical form, having been crafted to not exhibit the properties Dumbledore had placed into them. This was to stop the formation of curses, he had explained, for the magic he had been threading into the stones were parts he distilled from that of magic many would consider dark.

It had surprised Lily at first that the Dark Arts was where Dumbledore had reached for the creation of these enchantments, but after explanation, it made a whole lot more sense. What they were aiming to achieve was an enchantment to touch the soul, and of all the magic that existed in the world, all the spells that met such a requirement seemed to have roots in the tomes of darkness.

Spell crafting was not in Lily's repertoire of skills. The Dark Arts was not magic she found herself drawn to or able to wield. The malice required for such casting was beyond her too soft heart.

But it wasn't beyond her to know when an enchantment had taken hold.

Slowly, Lily slid the stone numbered one-hundred-and-twelve down the flat of the silver blade, hearing the satisfying shck of the smooth stone sliding down metal, then stilling to silence as if trying to hear the magic click into place with the complex enchantment that comprised the Sword of Gryffindor.

There was still a number of stones to test and she didn't need the headmaster for those. She had been taught all the spells and wards needed and had already tested over a hundred in the week prior. She had even memorised the routine of it all and had a good idea of what she was looking for. Albus had initially demonstrated the sword's legendary property, to take in only which made it stronger, by applying but a drop of basilisk venom to the blade.

"This is the change we seek," the headmaster explained as Lily's eyes widened to the flux of magic her detection spells had whispered into her mind. The already so magically potent form of the sword suddenly spiking with magical flux, only to ebb slowly away once again. But not to its original thrum. The magic that encased it now took on a subtle tinge that had not been there before.

The fabric of magic that made up the enchantments that laced the sword changed noticeably. So long as Lily took care to cast her spells of detection, she could continue testing on the stones they had left. She would be able to take on this burden when the headmaster found himself otherwise engaged.

Such as tonight.

Lily closed her eyes, willing the magic around the sword to change as she took another stone to the blade. A flat silence was all that replied.

With a sigh, Lily wet her quill, marking the chart that kept track of which had been tested and what spells inhibited each of them with a cross, indicating its trial and subsequent failure. Each cross marking another chip in Lily's waning hope.

Lily set the stone back to its spot in the box. It was small and cherry wood in craft, fitted with small square partitions marking it as a box for storing potions, though now reappropriated to store the stones they created. In each cubical were four stones stacked atop each other, both tested and untested alike.

Though some stones had already been tested and found wanting, the headmaster kept the samples. Perhaps for future magical experiments. Perhaps to take apart and disenchant. Lily had read about the concept of disenchantment but had no idea about the hows and whys of such an endeavour.

With another sigh, Lily brought out the next stone in the series, already mentally tallying the next cross over the parchment. But she hadn't even brought the stone to the sword when she heard a loud crack echo from the staircase.

Lily's eyes widened, fumbling and almost dropping the stone. She stood in stunned silence for a moment, straining her ears in the silence for further noise. A second echoing crack sent her scrambling to action.

She dropped the stone she was holding into her pocket to free her hands to grasp the sword. With serious effort, she hefted the heavy length of goblin silver to its hiding place behind the back of the bookcase. The books that lined the portion of the shelf leapt apart at her approach, revealing a portion of wood which opened up like two doors of a cupboard to reveal a hole seemingly crafted into the stonewall. Within the hidden compartment, James' invisibility cloak sat folded neatly. Another passion project that had taken the headmaster's fancy and distraction.

With a huff, Lily lifted the blade into place, sliding it flat into the hiding spot that had not initially seemed deep enough to occupy the length of the sword, but magic had ways to provide. Another teeth-rattling boom sent Lily scrambling as she allowed the wall to take the sword into its secrecy.

She dashed for the stairwell, wand in hand, extinguishing the brazier in the workroom before locking up behind her. She took a careful pace as she descended, wand held aloft and at the ready.

The sounds had echoed from beneath, from where the office lay. Lily stepped slowly as she took her final step, rounding the corner to the office proper.

Only to stop upon a scene of multi-coloured feathers and green slime covering the surface of the room, the clash of colours hurting Lily's eyes.

Her first thought had been Peeves! as her wand hand dropped in exasperation. Only a poltergeist could create scenes of such pointless destruction.

With almost an air of relief, Lily picked her way across the slimed office, blowing away a jewel blue feather that had floated down towards her. It seemed the catastrophe of slime and feathers had even reached the ceiling.

"What on earth happened here?" Lily asked aghast, finding all the portraits of headmasters empty save one.

Headmaster Black sat in his usual seat, appearing to wipe away the goop that had somehow made into his portrait and had splattered across his painted robes.

"Professor, what happened?" Lily beseeched, honestly expecting a tirade about the lunacy of 'that damned poltergeist'.

Instead, the painted professor fixed her with a scathing stare. "My loyalty may be to my school first but to my house second. I'll not be telling anyone anything. Certainly not someone like you."

Of all the portraits to remain, it had to be this hard-line pureblood supporter. Lily barely got on with any of the portraits, most having harboured this type of anti-muggle sentiment throughout history, but none embraced it as barefacedly as Phineas Nigellus Black did. Ironic that he was a Slytherin.

"Well, as a staff of school and a custodian of the school's discipline, I must implore you to tell me what happened," Lily beseeched, staring wide-eyed about at this ridiculous mess.

It was like someone set off a slime bomb from the ceiling into the central of the office then blasted the area in feathers to further drive in the point.

"Nothing's happened," headmaster Black urged, to Lily's snorting disbelief. "And I'd get the custodian if I were you. Before Dumbledore arrives at that. With your uninvited presence, why, he would think you set off his security wards."

Lily's eyes widened at that, pausing mid-step. Security wards.

For a man with such secrets, Dumbledore certainly kept his security to a minimum. To his office proper at least. Though the headmaster had explained to Lily the magical mechanics behind the protective wards about his living and working space - that it responded to deliberate mischief and ill-intent - Lily had yet to see the magic enact its function.

It was only then did she pick out the patchy spots on the ground by the phoenix' perch, as if something had obstructed the splatter. Fawkes had taken to the skies earlier that night by ways of an open window, not long after Lily had greeted the bird upon her own visit.

Goosebumps prickled Lily's flesh as she picked her way around the table, noticing the chair ordinarily tucked politely into the desk lay upturned on its side. The slime that coated it had splattered cushioned seat and not the back of the chair, which was presented towards where the mess had rained down from.

Her legs turned to jelly and her heart leapt to her throat as she realised someone was hiding beneath it, concealed in the cavity of the table that could not be seen from any angle but one. In her mind that night of terror blared to the fore. Danger blared in her mind as goose bumps peppered her flesh, a sudden overwhelming instinct to run screamed in her mind.

But not her heart.

She levelled her wand, steeling her courage. She stepped forward towards the desk, placing her foot carefully into the sopping slimy mess. Slowly she stepped forward, carefully picking her way around the table, her wand levelled to the gap underneath.

"Stupefy!" a yell sounded suddenly from behind the curtains. Lily turned to find a streak of red sailing past her ear.

Wide-eyed and surprised, Lily flung a silent spell right back, knocking the wand from the boy's hand as he wrestled off the curtains from his robes, already made sticky with slime and garnished with feathers. Lily hesitated at the sight of him, realising then the intruder was a student and not some evil skull-masked entity as her mind had briefly envisioned.

The boy scrambled to his wand, holding it before him as if he intended to duel Lily right there in the headmaster's office. Standing upright now, Lily could tell the boy was one of the older students, not that much younger than Lily.

"I suggest you lower your wand, young man," Lily demanded with a stern voice. She struggled to recognise him through the slime and muck plastered across his face. His robes, which would have indicated the colours of his house, were obscured by a cacophony of colours by means of this ridiculous security system.

He held firm, wand pointed against her, yet his eyes did not meet her with the intent to fire. Instead it flickered behind her, expectant and hopeful.

Lily swung about, too late to train her wand, saved only by her wandless reflex. A strange wave of cold washed over her, a feeling of dread she could not explain or describe.

This time a girl stood steady, not half as covered in muck, her wand held aloft. Her silent casting of the Stunning Spell marked her as being notably more skilled than her companion. She stood a good head shorter than the male student but seemed far more assured of the situation.

"Lower your wand," Lily demanded, unable to keep a shake from her voice.

It wasn't the children she feared, but rather what other magical chaos they might inadvertently trigger in their fight. It seemed the headmaster's idea of security was as whimsical as he was, but she had no intention of testing the theory.

The girl appeared to falter, her wand lowering as her eyes drew towards the boy, who seemed to edge ever closer to the door.

"Lower your wand. I won't ask again," Lily demanded, her wand pointed. As the dread took her once more, the sensation changing to a strange chill creep down her spine. Suddenly that chill turned hot. She felt a hot weight press upon her, almost like a spot burning into her thigh through her robes.

Lily's momentary distraction almost proved disastrous. It wasn't the girl alone she had to contend with. Another streak of magic sailed past Lily following another alarming shout of "Stupefy." Had the boy's aim not been atrocious, Lily's poor reflexes might have landed her in some trouble.

She turned her wand on the young man, her mind flipping through her spell repertoire for something that could immobilise him without hurting him.

The girl too seemed to wake to her senses, raising her wand in retaliation. "Stupefy!" she too yelled, her mastery of wordless magic not extending to the advanced combat charms.

Without even thinking, Lily raised her unwanded hand and evoked the Shield Charm, "Protego!"

Her magic responded as she had expected, curling about her in a powerful barrier, breaking the streak of red upon its magical pane.

But suddenly, her magic no longer submitted to her control. A flux ebbed from that moment, seeming to twist wildly in her invocation as if trying to flee her grasp. Lily gasped, dropping her wand, turning it upon herself in panic as she felt her magic claw suddenly at herself, her heightened senses fanning the panic she felt. Her natural command of her wandless magic faltered as its nature turned.

But her worries turned short lived as another bolt of red streaked towards her. Her limbs felt like treacle as she moved to defend herself, and her magic a river unbound.

But whether or not that shield had taken form, Lily did not know, for darkness creeped across her vision and with it her consciousness fled.

And with it a sensation of falling through a cold void.

It occurred to Snape how absurd the whole night had been. He had found himself sitting at a barely wiped table in the midst of a dimly lit and dilapidated pub, sipping from a glass of Elderflower wine that was aged well past what was reasonable.

The scene they had chosen was not much better. Hog's Head was so run down and derelict Snape could barely stomach it for his brief attendance at Order meetings, much less actually consume anything the place had to offer.

But there was no denying the safety the bar held for them, located so close to the school proper and presided over by another protector of the Order. There was no place in public a hunted man like Snape would have willingly placed himself except under the protection of a known collaborator.

It had been all too much to hope for that Potter would have the sense to not invite his Marauders, forcing Snape to endure almost half an hour of banality and borderline hostile banter before Urquart would finally arrive, tardy and apologetic.

The excuse given for the late arrival was unexpected overtime. A concept Potter found little empathy for as his unburdened position as assistant rarely called for him to do any actual work, and his unemployed friends fared even worse.

Snape sipped his drink in sullen silence as Urquart humoured the Gryffindors in conversation. Snape doubted any amount of alcohol could render the entire quartet of Gryffindors bearable, and they honestly gave the concept a rigorous testing.

The small amount of drink Snape had could do little to push this mistake of a night along quicker to its inevitable conclusion. The stale ale served at the Hogshead Inn could not be more repulsive to hissenses. The wine he opted for was little better, tasting like it could be sold as vinegar with little confusion.

For the most part, Urquart had been well humoured, even exchanging caustic jibes with the Gryffindor quartet and engaging them in their drivelling conversations. She seemed to get on with the four in a way that honestly grated on Snape.

"Call me James," the obnoxious Potter offered in the same overly friendly manner that he had been approaching Snape with in recent times.

"Sebastian," Urquart agreed, offering her glass in toast.

Black beat his best friend to the punch and raised his glass to the one the young Auror offered. "Sebastian it is." It was presumptive to assume the invitation extended to all seated around the table, but Urquart seemed not the least bothered by such initiative, seeming almost pleased.

"What's being an Auror like, Sebastian?" Pettigrew asked, eagerly joining in on the open offer.

"Eighty-percent paperwork," Urquart answered, causing the gathered Marauders to deflate. It seemed the minutiae of the fabled profession was not quite the heroics the Gryffindors had in mind. Not that any of the quartet possessed the grades to even consider the career.

Snape sat in relative silence through this odd evening of his own initiation, wondering why he was still there, sipping on sour wine and whiling his time away at this inn that barely saw a Scourging Charm in its lifetime. The enquiries he had wished to start with the young Auror lay untouched at the wayside, waylaid by a concession given to the company he was willing to keep.

There was once a time when Snape would have never considered a concession of any sort involving even a single one of the Marauders, much less all four at once. A hatred that once consumed him, now naught but a moderate lump of irritation that gnawed at him as would a homework not turned in.

A change so profound it honestly baffled and vexed Snape in equal parts. The terrible memories he associated with the Marauders burned hotly within his mind still, but the vitriol he held for the men no longer consumed him.

He had forgiven James Potter. That was the start of it all. He did not know when it happened, or how, but he found it in himself to bury the animosity between them. How that translated to a truce between himself and the rest of the Marauders was one for the ages. Each had aggrieved him in their own way, unforgivable in their own right.

But ultimately, it had been their association with Potter at the core of it all. The reason that animosity had been started in the first place. The reason Snape could not let go even after all these years and death itself, after years of experiencing far worse horrors in his life. For the sake of the war, he had broken bread around the table with far worse than the Marauders.

Moving on, as Lily would call it, was something Snape had never been good with. Or forgiveness, for that matter. The hatred that had defined him was but a smouldering ember within his heart, still burning, but one he was no longer inclined to fan.

A short glass floated past Snape's periphery to set itself squarely before the musing man. He glanced to Urquart who held her own shot of clear liquid. "Cheers, Snape."

Snape glanced up to the speaker to find Urquart's pointed eyes upon him. "I already have my wine," the young professor muttered with a non-committed clink of the rim of his burgundy glass to the offered toast and completed it with a testing sip.

Urquart grimaced as she downed her drink, the expression turning bemused. "If you actually enjoyed that wine you would have done more than spend the past hour rinsing the glass with it."

"Perhaps I like the colours," Snape returned dryly.

"Well, I can't fault the wisdom in restraint," Urquart remarked, gesturing to Pettigrew, who lolled in his seat, passed out completely.

Glancing around the table, Snape felt a trickle of relief the evening might be trickling to a close. Potter was visibly inebriated, still trying to match drinks with the far more drink-tolerant Black. Lupin, too, had found more drink than was wise, staring despondently into his own glass as if trying to scry answers from the amber depth.

Snape glanced to the glasses stacked before the young Auror, totalling three at a glancing count, and left uncollected until absolutely necessary by the less than attentive barman that was Aberforth Dumbledore. "Is that what you call restraint?"

"Do you disapprove?" Urquart asked before taking a long draw from her glass of ale. Red tinged her cheeks, but apart from that, she seemed largely unaffected.

Snape also took a steady sip of his soured wine before speaking. "I think there are far worse things in the world than the occasional indulgence."

"You say, without indulging," Urquart observed, her dark eyes set to her thinly pulled smile.

With a grimace, Snape vanished the rest of his glass, finally surrendering to his farce. "Had this bar served anything better than this foul imitation of wine then I might."

"The ale here is at least passable," the young Auror observed.

But Snape shook his head. "I would rather not. I cannot stomach the scent of it."

That elicited a curious furrowing of brows. "And you said nothing of it."

"No," Snape agreed. "In that I do not hold you responsible for my lack of enjoyment."

"May I enquire as to why you dislike ale?" Urquart asked, her question innocent enough.

But that was an answer Snape did not wish to speak of. "You may, but I will choose not to answer."

Urquart fixed Snape a look, seeming to take measure of him. "Will you then answer why you agreed to all… this?" She gestured about the table to the two Gryffindors who appeared so drunk they were taking turns trying to fish an olive out of a bottle. "I don't recall you having the best relationship with James, much less this lot."

Snape arched his eyebrow, noting the casual use of first name was already established and observed. "Perhaps I wished to know why you did."

"I asked first," Urquart countered.

Snape paused upon his answer. "I do not hate you."

Laughter rang out from Urquart's lips, drawing the attention and eyes of all those yet to find the wooden top of the table against their head. "Nor I you, Snape."

A beat of silence lapsed as Urquart seemed to sober. Finally, she muttered as she returned to her drink, "You and your secrets. You continue to be an enigma, Snape."

"Is that not the relationship between Slytherins?"

"Yes. It is," Urquart relented with a small, almost reluctant, smile. "Distant and full of secrets. You keep them well."

Another beat of silence passed between them. Her secret hung between them unspoken. That one pretence she continued to uphold among the attending parties this day despite the evidence of her work life rendering the point moot.

"Mine was not so well kept," she offered softly, broaching upon Snape's thoughts.

"It was not me that betrayed it," Snape assured her as he glanced down the table, observing the pointless inebriation their company painted themselves into but being wise enough to not trust the listening ears of revellers. Perhaps he needn't have bothered, seeing that three quarters of the troupe, the ones that were still conscious, had vacated their seats for the event of Potter's unceremonious retching at a distant chamber pot, likely left very thoughtfully for the very event.

Urquart too glanced back from the sight, reassured by the privacy but clever enough to still be cautious. "Identity records, family connections, working in the office of some of the greatest investigative minds our Ministry could employ. I wasn't going to be able to keep things… tidy for long."

Gesturing for Aberforth's attention, Urquart set down twelve Knuts in exchange for another glass of beer. Snape watched despondently as the barman obliged, filling a schooner and levitated it to the table where she caught it and took a large gulp of her drink.

"But I knew going in," Urquart continued, a little muted. "I knew any job with the Ministry would result… well, there was never going to be any other job." She took another slow draw of drink with Snape only able to watch on in silence. "I chose the Aurors. I have no regrets about that. Everyone gives up a little bit of themselves when they choose to serve the law. I'll wear any uniform they give me."

"Wear any mask?" Snape asked, finally finding his voice.

Urquart smirked in a manner almost bemused. "Death Eater analogy? I've heard that one before. Especially since Barty's won us the right to use the Unforgivables."

So the war had begun in true for the Ministry. Aurors, now armed with deadly intent, had begun their campaign. A note upon the history books for the escalation of the conflict. An earmark for death to follow, the terrible clashes that would come about, the resultant deaths of those involved and those caught in the crossfires. And those struck down in retaliation.

Perhaps this was an escalation that needed to happen. Time unchallenged only worked in favour of the insidious darkness. But that would be poor consolation for the victims to come.

The thought struck Snape suddenly that he might be sharing last drinks with someone destined to die. He did not remember Urquart in his past lifetime and had morbidly toyed with the possibility that she would have met her end as an unknown upon the swathes of victims in this war. The reality seemed far more corporeal, knowing the fates of the vast majority of those she now served with in her office. So many whose names and faces Snape had never cared to learn, even as he watched them die.

"I fear for your safety, Urquart," Snape offered suddenly, incensed by his foreknowledge. "You have chosen this path but I beseech you to weather it with the care that befits a Slytherin."

"As you have?" Urquart asked with a-none-too-subtle gesture towards Snape's false hand.

Snape grimaced, instinctively clenching that silver hand. "Perhaps more than I."

"Why? What have you heard, Snape?" Urquart asked, meeting the young Professor's eyes.

"I only speak as a friend." A statement as profound as it was untrue. Snape paused a moment, allowing the statement to sit strangely upon his tongue. A friend.

Slytherin make poor friends.

Words spoken from his lips upon their final days at Hogwarts. A lifetime ago, for all that had happened since. Ironic, for Snape knew what a true lifetime passed felt like. But the Snape that had held such sentiments was no longer the man that he was. The reluctance to form bonds. To make vulnerable himself by binding another to his life.

Urquart smiled as if bemused. "Friends? Is that what we are now?" Her question seemed to touch upon that same memory that stood now as bleak hypocrisy.

Snape dipped his head in acknowledgement. "I believe that we are."

"What's changed?" Urquart asked, scepticism upon her voice.

"I have," was Snape's laconic answer and the truest statement he had given this evening.

The first Slytherin to take his side come the changing of the creed, and one who never wavered since. One that had treated Snape with respect and not asked for a single thing in return, save one.

"My father was an alcoholic." Snape offered suddenly and without prompt before pausing, his glower a mask for the awkwardness of his words. "You had asked why I hate the smell of beer. It is because I could not escape the smell within my destitute childhood. It is because it turned my father violent…" He looked away, unable to bring himself to meet anyone's eyes as he painted bare his own soul.

"I'm sorry, I hadn't known," came Urquart's response, appropriately muted.

"I did not expect you to, nor do I want your pity. That is not why I tell you," Snape remarked, his tone unreasonably calm for what he was speaking of. "That is a secret of mine that I give to you willingly."

Snape met the eyes of the young Auror, seeing the frown upon those shadowed eyes recede a fraction. "Hardly a revelation for the front pages of the Prophet."

"Don't flatter yourself. Your secret has already found every ear willing to hear," Snape jibed back, prompting a surprising bark of laughter from his fellow Slytherin. Humour gleaned from words that might have once left a wound.

Only a fellow Slytherin could appreciate the offering of a secret that had weighed upon a soul, and value the depth of its cut more than the scandal it brought. A moment made vulnerable. A gift of trust, something so rarely found within the house of the snake.

"You know. I think I did you a wrong, Snape," Urquart muttered, turning the glass held between her hands absently. "I will admit. I had my reservations about meeting you again. So much so, in fact, that I absentmindedly invited a man you had been rather contentious with."

"An understatement," Snape agreed.

Urquart grimaced, "I owe you an explanation." She met Snape's eyes and held firm. "I had thought … wanted to play a fantasy where my secret was still intact. I wanted people around me who only knew me as Sebastian, and no one else."

"And our parting words had not instilled faith in you that I could be such a person," Snape concluded, no inflection upon his voice.

Exhaustion seemed to tinge Urquart's smile. "But tonight you have been discrete. In a world where I will only find adversity, I appreciate discretion. But I don't plan to simply submit to the fold, Snape. I plan to hold my own. I plan to rise to the top. I will bring myself to a place where I can dictate the terms of what I want my name to be." She paused, looking away to her perpetually unfinished glass, finding the depth of the flat amber of the lukewarm ale. "So I appreciate your friendship, Snape. And I know better than to spit in its face for something as abstract as understanding."

You do not understand. That had been the parting sentiment between them. And it was not one that Snape could honestly claim to have come any further from. There was nothing comparable in either lifetime that he could draw context from, nor had he spent that time in a frame of mind to learn.

"I don't understand," Snape admitted, echoing the same sentiments he once had. "But that doesn't mean I am not willing to try."

Surprise alit upon Urquart's features, unfiltered and undisguised. Her silence stretched long between them.

"I think you should call me Severus," Snape said, breaching the silence that stretched between him and the woman before him. Except that it wasn't the case. What little Snape understood pointed to that discrepancy in his thinking. Urquart saw himself as a man, and Snape respected him enough to adapt. Change was slow and so very, very difficult, but not impossible. That alone meant he owed the man he would call a friend to try.

"Because I intend to call you Sebastian." Snape raised his glass, the same shot of clear liquor Urquart had purchased for him this night. "After all, I do not know you by any other given name."

The young man smiled, dropping his eyes so quickly Snape barely glimpsed the roil of emotion within. He raised his glass of flat beer, meeting the offered shot glass in toast.

Well, tonight had been a disaster.

What should have been a productive evening turned into a terrible mess to clean up, and Lily lamented the fact that she couldn't even provide the identities of the students who caused the ruckus in the first place.

She came to on the sticky floor of the headmaster's office, not long after the running feet faded from the stairwell leading out of the Gargoyle corridor. It seemed the girl had not gotten her grasp of the Stunner Spell down firmly enough to deal Lily more than a brief bout of unconsciousness.

Stained with slime and feathers, Lily tore down the stairs, determined to bring the pair of troublemakers to justice.

"Hold it! Get back here!" she demanded down the darkened hall the sound of running feet fled down. She found naught but the draught of the wind and the creak of wood and stone answer, the children's footsteps no longer audible against the ambient sounds of the ancient castle.

Lily turned back to the stairwell, deflated by her failure. At the very least she could get the mess cleaned up before the headmaster returned. Though not caused by the actions of her evening, Lily still felt responsible for not bringing about a measure of justice. Her glimpse of the children involved had been too obscured by the muck for her to positively identify them at that brief encounter.

Had it been Severus, he would know by a single glance. He had an inhuman memory and seemed to always be able to put a name to every student's face. An amazing trait for a professor despite his protests otherwise.

A thought occurred to Lily as she stepped through that thorough mess, determined to start where the matter was manageable. With her own.

She took to the steps, sweeping the gunk from her shoes as she did so to avoid tracking more of the mess up to where they had no business being. The workshop lamps greeted her arrival, glowing merrily as she began stacking the scrolls containing their tracking of the experiment back into their own protective cylindrical container. She tucked it back into place, its discretion kept through the cunning disguise of being one container among many.

The box of enchanted stonework was already closed and prepared to be stored by merit of Lily's neatness in her work, putting back a stone each time she brought one out. It was only by the merit of her good work habits that she opened the box to double check at all. And to her horror, a visible gap in the box outlined a single stone missing.

"Oh crap," she whispered under her voice, scouring the table and floor around the immediate vicinity. "Oh crap, oh crap."

She returned to the box, flinging open the lid as if hoping the missing item had magically restored itself in the minutes since she last looked. Unfortunately, reality remained uncooperative.

Lily picked out the three stones sitting in the partition, trying to trigger a memory about where she might have placed it. The numbers hundred-and-twelve and hundred-and-thirteen did, for they were the most recent test subjects. It would go to reason that hundred-and-fourteen was the absconded.

With a clearer picture of what she was looking for, Lily drew her wand to summon. A minute ticked by in silence, her panic mounting with every moment passed. Her brain zipped about, trying to remember what became of that stone. She remembered holding it in her hand, poised to press it against the blade of the sword, then that disturbance happened in the floors below. What then? Oh, what she wouldn't give for a mind like Severus'. It was probably as organised as his side of the room. Mental notes stacked alongside each other neatly like books upon his shelf.

Packing what remained of the stones back neatly into their box, Lily stowed them into the same hiding spot she had hidden Gryffindor's Sword. She grimaced, belatedly realising that in her rush she remembered to hide that sword but failed to remember the enchanted stones. Her scatterbrain had cost her.

Upon descending the stairs, Lily was met with an outraged shrill. Fawkes had returned via open window to find his perch unacceptably violated by filth and feathers that was not of his own making. The great red phoenix turned its black eye upon Lily with an almost judgemental gaze.

"I didn't do this," Lily called to the bird, pleading her innocence.

Fawkes didn't seem the least moved by her words, tilting his head as if lifting an eyebrow and saying, Oh really?

She didn't know why the Fawkes in her mind was speaking with Severus' tone of voice. If anything, it should speak with Albus' voice.

"I am glad to hear it." Albus Dumbledore's voice lanced through the office, as if summoned by her thoughts.

Lily spun around, the very image of guilt. "Oh, Albus. You're back."

The headmaster smiled in greeting from the stairwell. "Good evening, Lily. I trust this day finds you well." He spoke as if he hadn't noticed the terrible mess his office had become.

"I honestly wasn't the one who did this," she quickly asserted again. In hindsight, she likely painted herself in a far more suspicious light by her insistence.

But Albus merely smiled, "But of course, I have never doubted." He strode to his desk, righting his chair that had been knocked over in the mayhem. "You, after all, are visibly less marked by my wards than I would have expected the guilty party to be."

Lily glanced down and grimaced at the mess that stained her own clothes, but far more sparingly than it had the two children. "It was a girl and a boy. Older students, I think. I couldn't see which house they were from," Lily offered. A pretty poor account considering she had been but six feet from either. "Sorry, I can't recall any more. But I'm bet I'll know who they are if I see them again." Unobscured by muck, this time.

Albus, however seemed fairly undisturbed by the turn of events. "I thank you for your willingness, Lily, but it is wholly unnecessary," he said as he picked up Fawkes' stand from its toppled position, leant against the shelves by the back wall. With one wide sweep of his wand, the mess of the entire room vanished, swept away by a masterful Vanishing Spell that carefully scoured the room and left what needn't be taken in place. Lily's robes, too, had been cleaned in that same breath, the feathers and muck that peppered her down one side, the side that met the floor, lifted from her clothes and skin. Unfortunately, that did not uncover the missing subject hundred-and-fourteen, which frankly, Lily felt a mounting panic about the whereabouts of. She desperately wracked her memories as she scoured the corners the round office.

Any thought of dedicating her night in subtle search was relinquished when a sudden wave of exhaustion washed over Lily. It was as if the day had caught up to her all at once.

Tomorrow, she thought with a wince, embarrassment burning in her gut. Worry barely able to claw through her lethargy and crushing disappointment to herself. To think that losing a duel against a pair of students was not the worst thing about tonight.

Seeming to notice her flagging, the headmaster dismissed her. "Good night, Lily," Albus bade, smiling softly and kindly as a grandfather might.

Snape hadn't immediately seen what was wrong.

He had come home rather more affected by the few drinks he was willing to imbibe. Perhaps he went a little overboard with his gesture of comradery with Urquart, having accepted a shot and been immediately treated to another. Liquor was a quick poison in that regard. While wine served to softly smooth the edges of his mind, liquor had kicked it from under him before he knew he had a drop too many.

"You're a lightweight," Urquart had laughed when Snape surrendered for the evening. He had permitted himself only three shots of that surprisingly smooth liquor Urquart had called a clear whisky, but that had been enough to completely unseat him.

Returning to the castle, Snape had readied immediately for bed. He had overestimated his own capacity as he had forgotten this lifetime he had yet to have any experience with alcohol. His body reacted poorly to it, causing his mind to quickly fog.

Snape settled into the covers, wrapped in the warmth of the shower clinging to his skin and seeping away the chill of his duvet, commanding his murky mind to settle into sleep. Before his will could be obeyed, he heard Lily's return.

He could hear the exact moment she realised he was in bed, for she took great pains to be quiet. She was never as stealthy as she thought she was. He had surprised her with his touch when she climbed in. His hand upon her thigh, feeling the warm steam seeping through her nightgown from her freshly showered skin.

"Not tonight, Sev. I'm so tired," she muttered, able to detect his intentions so accurately of late. Whether that spoke more about her intuition or to his forwardness, Snape knew not.

Snape withdrew his hand and slid it around her, pulling her close. "Then sleep," he murmured, content to simply hold her.

"I can smell alcohol on your breath," she giggled softly before quickly slipping under through her exhaustion.

Perhaps it was then Snape should have known. Perhaps if he had not had his senses clouded by alcohol, he might have noticed – how unnatural her exhaustion had been.

Upon waking, Snape took stock of how bad his head was. A light grogginess was all he felt. He had expected worse, if truth be told, but acknowledged he did not drink enough to warrant it. Lily awoke while he was dressing, looking far worse for wear then he felt.

"Did you have a drink as well last night?" Snape asked as he selected his robes for the day. A choice that bode no controversy as every set of robe he owned was of a similar cut, style and shade of black.

"Hmm, what?" Lily muttered, before blinking and shaking her head as if trying to dispel a haze.

"Are you feeling alright?" Snape asked, not immediately regarding her morning airiness as anything outside her normal behaviour.

Lily blinked again, her eyes suddenly brightened. "Oh man, I spaced. I must have slept too hard." Snape frowned, still not entirely convinced, but enough to return to his buttons.

Lily didn't immediately arise from bed, sitting up blinking blearily as if mustering the will to get out of bed. "Urgh. You were the one drinking last night, why do I have the hangover?"

"Perhaps you're coming down with something," Snape suggested, stepping to her side to place his wand to her temple. "Your temperature is normal, but perhaps you should see engage Madam Pomfrey's opinion."

"I'm fine. I'm getting up," Lily muttered, waving Severus' wand away and stepping from bed. "Stop fretting. I just need to get some breakfast into me."

It was then Snape began suspecting something amiss, even as he watched her dress her movements seemed slower, more deliberate. There was a flu going around the school so it wouldn't be at all surprising if it had found a victim in her, especially given how social she was with the student and staff alike.

But it was more than that, a small niggling voice at the back of his head screamed. He drew his wand across, casting upon her every curse detection spell he knew, and felt every sense upon his body light up in an agonising flare.

"No!" he hissed, leaping to her side and grasping a hold of her forearm.

"W-what?" she stuttered, utterly startled. "What's wrong?"

Snape took a hold of her, half-dressed, and almost physically dragged her to a seat on the bed. His wand danced across her form, his mind racing to recognise what curse it was that had its insidious hold on her.

"What happened last night?" he demanded, grasping for any clues he could find to unravel this spell.

Lily blinked back, alarmed no doubt by his alarm. "I- no- I don't," Lily supplied, eyes wide with confusion.

"Did anything out of the ordinary happen?" Snape demanded, his wand still frantically darting about her person.

Lily blinked, seeming to think about it a moment. "I caught two students trying to break into Albus' office. I duelled them and… one of them stunned me." She looked sheepish at that admission, like the idea of being caught by surprise by a student was somehow shameful and not outrageous.

"Who are they?" Snape asked, his mind forming insidious conclusions.

But it seemed Lily was more concerned for these children than her own welfare. "I don't know," she answered lamely.

"Lily, I need to know who they are," Snape beseeched. "You have been cursed, do you hear me? You have a curse upon you."

It seemed his urgent words had finally snapped her to reality. "W-what?" she uttered, eyes wide with surprise. "Cursed?"

"Tell me who they are," Snape demanded again, too incensed to be patient.

"I don't know," was all Lily could say. "They were too covered with muck. I couldn't recognise them."

With a hiss of frustration, Snape turned away. He had to consciously loosen the grip of his conjured hand lest he snap his own wand by the strength of his grip.

"I'll go to Poppy. Don't worry, Sev. She'll figure something out," Lily tried to reassure as he heard her climbing to her feet.

"She knows next to nothing about curses." Pomfrey was an incredible healer of all manner of maladies or injuries, magical or mundane, but curse breaking was not part of her repertoire. In fact, the greatest expert they had in the field of dark magic happened to be standing in this very room, wearing a hole in the floor by his frantic pacing.

"Albus, ask him," Lily suddenly suggested. Another whose knowledge of the dark arts paled in comparison. His sceptical expression spurred her to explain. "The portraits had seen the students. Ask Albus to find out."

That was the best line of enquiry he had to pursue. Sweeping his wand in an arching circle, Snape sent his doe to bear his urgent message to the headmaster, not even caring who might glance upon this ethereal representation of his heart.

"Severus…" Lily's shaky voice suddenly gasped. Snape spun around to catch her as she stumbled, eyes wide and face pale beneath her freckles. "I feel so tired," she muttered as she collapsed into a dead faint in his arms.

A/N: And finally we can stop mis-gendering Urquart. To everyone who's expressed concerns over the incorrect use of pronouns, I acknowledge and appreciate what you have to say but I wrote it like so on purpose. The reason I did that is because the story is written in Snape and Lily's perspectives. Given the time period of the story being set in the 80s, not a lot of people would have even heard of the term transgender much less understand the issues, such was the case in the muggle world. How much worse would it be in a community as small and insular as the wizarding one. I cannot expect Snape, being someone who's not had any contact with such a perspective in the past, to come to immediate understanding. I think that too is an important perspective to take. Not everyone would understand, not everyone would know the right words to say or the right terms to use, but it is the effort they make to try to that is important.

A thank you to my Beta readers Sattwa100 and thrawnca for your work on this chapter.

Next Update: Saturday 29th September 2020.

Chapter 88: To Invoke the Impossible

Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter universe and do not seek to profit in any way, shape or form from this fan work.