"Right then," Minerva McGonagall heard Sirius Black's voice say from upstairs. "Let's go."

She sighed, and turned towards Hermione's chess board. "May I?"

"Of course," Hermione said.

"We'll have to bring one of your pawns across," Minerva said. "We need another knight."

Hermione examined the board, and nodded. She picked up a protesting pawn, tossed it in the box, and fetched a spare knight from the rather battered set belonging to Alastor Moody. "That's quite a journey, Professor," she said as she handed over the knight.

"Yes," Minerva agreed, "it is. But he's made it." She placed the knight on the board, and pointed to a square. The knight galloped his horse towards her finger.

The other woman regarded the board again. "Professor?"

Minerva was commanding her knights forward to challenge a Dark pawn and a bishop. "Hmm?"

"Who's the Dark Queen?"

"Who is the White Queen, Hermione?" Minerva countered.

"You, of course."

Minerva raised her eyebrows.

"The dark queen... Hmm. Could be the Lestrange woman," Moody commented dryly. "Metaphorically speaking, who's Voldemort's second?"

"I don't know that he has one, Alastor," Minerva replied. "Which makes him twice as dangerous, of course."

"Probably," Moody growled. "But you knew better than to underestimate him already, didn't you?"

"Yes." With a sigh she moved to the other side of the table and tapped the black king. "King takes king," she whispered. The white king fell under the sword of the black.

"Dumbledore," said Moody.

She nodded.

He tapped the white queen. "You." She shook her head, but Moody went on. He touched the first bishop. "Granger here." The second. "Potter." The knights. "Snape, Lupin, Black."

"Yes." Minerva reached out a hand towards her knights, then drew it back. "We've made our moves. Now we wait."

She rested her elbows on the table, holding her chin in her hands. She gazed out at the board, and tried not to think of how painfully real the stakes of this game had become. Minerva longed to replace Hermione's pieces in their proper order, to lift Moody's knight from the board and return it to its owner, but she knew that she could not. The figures upon the board represented plans already set in motion, and not even her fondest wish could call a halt to things before their time.

Minerva sighed, knowing she could only wait now. Only wait and hope.

"You don't have to stay here with us," Hermione said at last. "As soon as they're back, we'll send word."

"No," Minerva said. "I'll wait. I need to know that they're alright." I need to know that he's alright. "You two, though... You should go and rest. I'll see this through."

"Then so will we," Hermione said.

Moody was nodding. "You too, Alastor?" Minerva asked.

"'Course. I don't sleep at night anymore- You know that."

"You don't sleep, period," Hermione said.

"Quiet, Granger," he growled, but he did it with a smile.

Minerva nodded. "Of course."

"How about some tea?" Hermione asked. "I'll get it."

"That would be lovely," Minerva told her. "Thank you."

Hermione turned for the stairs, and Minerva heard the basement door close behind her.

"Tea?" she asked.

Moody shrugged. "Gave her a signal. I wanted to talk to you alone."

"I know the signs and signals, Alastor. I didn't see one."

He shook his head. "Girl's fairly sharp, y'know." He eyed the chess board. "You're worried about him."

"I'm worried about all of them, about all of us, Alastor."

"Some more than others."

Minerva couldn't deny it. Sirius and Remus were friends just as dear, just as old, and yet it was at the thought of Severus Snape alongside them that her heart felt the sharpest pang. She hated herself for it, but that hate changed nothing. "Damn it all," she said, "I've already lost the man who should have been my father. Must I lose my oldest friends, too?"

"Is that how he looks at you, do you think?" Moody asked. "As a friend?" He tapped his cheekbone, just below his artificial eye. "I see what others don't, you know. Sometimes I see too much- That's why they think I'm mad."

"One of the reasons," she couldn't help but say.

Moody chuckled. "True." Then, "You know what I see, Minerva."

"Tell me."

"You love him. I saw that when you looked at him before he left, the way your hand touched his shoulder- and in how you told him to be careful in a way no one else would hear."

"That's a private code," Minerva protested.

"Which any persistent Auror could break."

"A persistent Auror like you."

"'Course."

"Granted," she sighed. "What else do you see?"

"The obvious. Stubborn old friends who won't admit to things until they haven't got any choice left." He tapped the newest Knight upon the board. "He loves you, too. That's why he came back tonight. Wouldn't have done it for anyone else. In your heart you know that."

"Even if it were true, he won't admit it."

The scarred ex-Auror grunted. "Neither will you," he pointed out. "Which is why I said you're both stubborn."

"If," Minerva said again, "if what you're saying is true, any feelings we might have for each other could put us both in danger."

Moody scoffed, his expression suddenly mocking. "And you think you'd be in less danger if you remain fools for the rest of your lives? Which, I might add, are probably going to be pretty short? You've both always struck me as fairly bright. Don't go disappointing me now."

She shook her head. "They killed Albus because they could- because he was the wisest and the strongest of us. But they also did it because we loved him."

He tapped the white queen. "Is that the royal we?"

"Alastor-"

He waved a hand. "Never mind. The Death Eaters are opportunists, and you know that. They took the chance presented to them, and would have dealt in the same fashion with any leader we had. That most of us cared about him that much was just an added bonus to them. You know that."

Minerva closed her eyes for a moment, gathering her thoughts. "I can't risk it, Alastor."

Moody reached out, quite suddenly, and clasped her hands. It had probably been ages since he'd touched anyone, and Minerva could not recall once even in the long years of their friendship that he had done so with her.

"What are you afraid of?" he asked.

She looked down at the scarred hands holding her own. They had never seemed stronger, and she had never needed that strength more than she did in that moment. "I'm sure it must be obvious to you."

He growled something under his breath. "Humor me. What are you afraid of?" he asked again. "That he'll be hurt because he loves you?" Moody shook his head. "He betrayed the Death Eaters, and that will be their primary concern. What, then? That he will hurt you, leave you when you need him most?" He shook his head again. "No. Snape being Snape, I doubt he knows how to process what he feels, but he would never..." Moody's eye rolled up towards the heavens. "Man would fall on his sword first."

Minerva shook her head. "I know that, Alastor." She looked down at her hands helplessly. "Do you think love is rational? Of all those I could have fallen in love with, it had to be him. Someone so cold and so bitter... But there is more to him than that. There are things he has never wanted the world to know about himself, dark and secret places within his heart... And I've been there, Alastor. I have been there. I know the darkness, and I know the light, and I know that our cores are the same."

"Yes," Moody agreed. "You are both made of sterner stuff than most will ever know."

"When he didn't come tonight, we all knew that something was wrong. But I was the only one who went to him- the only one who would have troubled themselves for it, I think."

"Not true," Moody countered. "I would have gone."

"If I had asked it of you."

He bowed his head in a nod. "He wouldn't have followed me, though."

"No?"

Moody's eye rolled about in its socket. "No. You have everything I can give you, Minerva, but I haven't got his level of devotion. I told you before, that he only came back because you asked it. The man would follow you into fire, into death."

"I wish he wouldn't!" Minerva cried.

"That's what love is. Didn't you know that?"

She said nothing for a time. Then, "I hate you, Alastor."

Moody laughed. "No, you don't. And you don't hate him, either."

"No, of course I don't."

"Of course, you aren't angry, either. You are afraid, my friend."

Minerva sighed. "Yes. Terrified, if you must know." Minerva shook her head. "The things we spoke of are private."

"I would imagine so."

"I'm serious, Alastor. Please."

Moody gave her hands a quick squeeze, and let them go. "I know. Can't help myself sometimes, is all." His magical eye focused directly upon her. "What is it?"

Minerva wrung her hands. "I'm worried about him, Alastor. When I found him, he was..." She shook her head, and could not find the right words to describe what she'd seen, not without violating Snape's trust.

"You think he'll do something stupid?"

"Gods and Goddesses of old, I hope not, Alastor. But I can't afford to wait and hope that I'm wrong, either. Keep an eye on him, please. I doubt he'll say much to you, but if you notice anything..."

He nodded. "I'll do what I can. So long as you understand that I'll do the watching, and not much else. I can't talk to him."

"Of course you can, Alastor. He just usually chooses not to listen."

Moody laughed, but his reply was serious. "He won't let you down, not as long as you need him."

"I don't need-"

"Think you can fool me, do you? Well, I won't argue. Doesn't matter in the long run, anyway, because you can't fool yourself, and you sure as hell can't fool him. How it ends, that's between the two of you, anyway."

"I suppose it is," Minerva said quietly. "Alastor-"

"You're welcome," he said.

They heard the door open, then Hermione's footsteps descending the stairs. "Headmistress?" she said, holding out a steaming mug.

"Thank you," Minerva said.

"We had a runner from the castle," Hermione added as she passed Moody the second mug from the tray she carried. She kept a third for herself.

"And?" Minerva asked.

"It's midnight, by Hogwarts time," Hermione replied. "Officially, the last day of winter break now."

Though most of those who had gone to school with Hermione and the others had graduated with her two years ago, a number of them had returned to the school in the following years to continue the fight against Voldemort. Some, like many former students of Slytherin house, had probably returned with less than honorable intentions. Which was why, when the former students had returned home for the usual winter holiday to visit their families, the leadership of the Order of the Phoenix had reached a difficult decision; Anyone who wished to depart their company was, as always, free to do so, but those who returned would be questioned under Veritaserum.

It had been obvious from the beginning that there were those who would chose to forgo this.

Minerva took a long sip of her tea. "We have back most of those whom we expected to return," she said. "And we've lost most of the Slytherins, past and present." It was not a question.

Hermione nodded. "Crabbe and Goyle sent a truly offensive note by owl. Filch wants to give them detention. I told him to go ahead, if he could catch them. Some of the younger ones came back, though..." She trailed off, biting her lip, as if there were something more, something she didn't want to say.

"Hermione," Minerva said gently. "What else?"

"Malfoy," the younger woman sighed. "Draco Malfoy's not back yet."

Moody, who had been eying his tea suspiciously, set it aside. "Damn. Snape thought there was a bit of hope for that one."

"There may be still," Minerva said. "He still has a day left." A pause. "Hermione didn't poison that tea, Alastor."

Moody jerked his head in a nod. "I'm sure she didn't, but old habits are hard to break."

Hermione shrugged. "And in this day and age, when we know they're capable of anything...It doesn't really bother me, Professor. Malfoy does, though. I really thought he might be one of us at heart."

"You aren't alone in that assessment," Minerva told her. "But we'll just have to see. Draco Malfoy may yet surprise us."

"I hope so," Hermione said. "I'm not exactly fond of him, but-"

"Was that all, Granger?" Moody rasped.

"Isn't it enough, sir?" she replied. "There's still no word from the Ministry," she added.

Moody grunted, and Minerva shook her head.

"Fudge is going to keep on denying this," Moody snarled, "until a Death Eater walks up and bites him in the ass."

"I'm afraid that's fairly accurate, Alastor. As we knew five years ago."

"I still don't understand that," said Hermione. "When Cedric was killed, I suppose he could have thought it was an accident, or-" she shrugged "- whatever. But what does he think happened to Professor Dumbledore?"

"He hasn't said, exactly," Moody said. "Not that it matters much. We're still on our own. Might've been easier with the backing of the Ministry, but we've done alright, all things considered."

"I don't think any of us could be said to be doing alright, Alastor," Minerva said.

He sighed. "No, I guess not." He stared into the depths of his mug for a moment. "Given any thought to which of the Death Eaters we ought to go after next?"

Minerva shook her head. "No. I wanted to speak with Severus about that. With Lucius Malfoy and Peter gone, it's a question of whom the others will look to, or who stands highest in the hierarchy now. Perhaps we could get him to draw a chart," she joked.

"Or a hit list in descending order?" suggested Moody.

Minerva laughed. "I'll let you make that suggestion to him, Alastor."

Moody's fingers played about his mug as he spoke, nails tapping out a discordant rhythm. "You're a fool if you think he'd ever raise a hand to you," he said flatly.

"Do you think that I don't know that?" she all but snapped in reply. "You just can't let this lie, can you?"

"No, I guess I can't. Would you rather I brought up the fact that you're going to be invested as First Knight of the Order of the Phoenix as soon as we lay Dumbledore to rest?"

"I'd rather," Minerva replied, "be toasting marshmallows in Voldemort's funeral pyre, but life is just full of these little disappointments."

Maybe it was the stress. Maybe it was the late hour. Maybe it was the lack of sleep and the danger that seemed ever-present. Whatever it was, though, Hermione Granger doubled over with the force of her sudden laughter, laughter that it seemed she couldn't stop.

"Marshmallows?" she gasped out, and then the peals of laughter continued.

It was a sound that had not rung out within those walls in far too long, and Minerva found her heavy heart just a little bit lightened by the sound.

---

The basement of The Three Broomsticks was dark save for the bits of light provided by the Identifire candles; a trio of Phoenixes and Auror's crests, and one Dark Mark bound by chains of fire.

"They're back," Snape and the others heard Hermione Granger say. The young Auror waved a hand over the Identifire candles, and they resumed their normal state. They went through the ritual of speaking the password, and Snape felt a bit of the tension go out of the room. It had become exhausting, this constant level of watchfulness and mistrust, and yet it was the only thing that might save them, in the end.

Lupin and Sirius held their prisoner balanced between them, and Snape heard one of them mutter something about the amount of weight the little man had put on.

Three others stood in the basement room, including Hermione, and as luck would have it, Snape had Apparated to stand immediately before Minerva McGonagall. He knew her only by the emerald of her robes as she held out a hand towards him.

"Severus. Remus, Sirius," she said.

Snape was quite conscious of their audience, and bowed over her hand, his lips just brushing its fine hairs. "Milady," he whispered. Her hand trembled as she drew it back, but in the darkness it was likely that no one else saw it.

Nor did they see, he thought, her hands working in a series of brief weaving motions. My knight of glowering darkness. How droll. Then, Are you alright?

Snape shook his head fractionally. Hardly.

"You three have any trouble?" Moody asked without bothering himself to step forward into the dim light.

"Oh, not much," Sirius said glibly. "Lucius has some very nasty stuff in his front yard, though, and we couldn't have gotten past it all without Snape. Oh," he added, almost as an afterthought. "Here. We brought you a present, Minerva."

Sirius and Lupin dumped Peter Pettigrew's Stupefied form unceremoniously at her feet.

"He's not much to look at," Lupin apologized, "but we thought you might find a use for him anyway. Sirius was sort of thinking a nice public trial could be interesting."

Minerva nodded. "It might be, at that. Thank you, gentlemen." She looked to Snape again. "Severus? What's been done about Lucius Malfoy?"

"Something permanent and unpleasant," Snape replied. "I thought of bringing him back with us, but he was...rather uncooperative and quite offensive. Under the circumstances, I thought having to endure Wormtail's presence would be enough of a strain on everyone. We left Lucius in his study, with-" He slipped his dagger from its sheath and held it up "-this one's twin piercing his eye."

"I like it," Moody said thoughtfully. "It's quiet, which means it might go unnoticed for a while. And it's got style. Says what we want it to, doesn't it?"

"I don't know about quiet, thought," Sirius said. "He made a lot of racket when we walked in- Surprised to see us, I guess."

"Very likely," Snape put in dryly.

Sirius shook his head and chuckled. "Anyway, we tried telling him to shut up a few times, but you know Lucius. He never did take directions well. We got tired of listening to it, and-"

"Do you mind?" Snape asked. "I'll tell it, thank you. Speaking of style, yours leaves something to be desired."

"You're just jealous because you don't have a flying motorbike," Sirius replied with a grin.

"Will you stop that?" Snape asked. "This is serious." He sighed. "You'll have to forgive them, Headmistress. I sometimes think they've matured very little since our student days."

"And I was starting to not hate him quite so much," Lupin muttered. "Well. There goes that."

Snape shook his dagger at them like a scolding finger (or as if he were brandishing the weapon at them, depending on how one looked at it), then turned back towards Minerva. He held back another sigh. Snape did not want to go on with this conversation, did not want to make the admission it seemed her eyes were looking for. "I'm sorry to say that my temper got the better of me."

"That, and Lucius tried to kill you," Lupin put in. "In all fairness, you have to add that."

"Yes," Snape agreed. "That, too. But I meant for us to bring him to trial, truly." He paused. "There's something else you should probably know."

"I'm listening," Minerva said.

"The dagger wasn't what killed him. He was already dead when I returned that to him."

"Oh?"

"It was the Phoenix mark." He bowed his head, eyes fixed upon the floor beneath his feet, which he could only just make out. "Lucius cast the Killing Curse, or he tried- the Mark caught it, and-"

"Show me," she said quietly.

"What?" he asked.

"The Phoenix mark. Show it to me."

Snape was frozen; something akin to terror paralyzed him. He couldn't...

She waved a hand at Sirius and Lupin, then jerked her chin towards Pettigrew's still form. "Get that out of my sight, please."

"I'll get the door, gents," Moody said, starting up the stairs. "Granger."

"Right," said Hermione, and she went to help the others with their prisoner. "Losing hair, gaining weight," she said as she grabbed his feet.

They clambered away up the stairs.