It was a bright cold day in December, and the clocks were striking thirteen. Soft white flakes of snow were falling quietly onto the silent streets of London. For years no car had appeared there, the tube had been closed, red double-deckers forgotten and rusting somewhere, the busy noise of traffic had passed away. Anthony Mallory, shivering violently in the unusually frosty air, hurried through the once with life pulsing Leicester Square. The brown cloak and robes he wore made him look like a monk and Sirius knew that he hated every single piece of them – from the dark brown shoes to the thick brown scarf. Cursing under his breath, he adjusted the heavy bag on his back and shot an angry glare at the dark back of a cloak of the man walking ahead of him.

This was the one who held Sirius’s curiosity, a man of whom he hadn't heard for ages, though he had been looking for him everywhere. The man who had been the cause that they had failed and Voldemort had succeeded. But maybe he was mistaken and this man wasn’t him… he couldn’t be… he hadn’t even seen his face, why was he so sure of his identity? He saw how Mallory smirked when the tall man wavered on his feet and his hand in a thick woollen glove came to his forehead.

Was he ill?

Injured?

This man was limping while that traitor, the murderer… Sirius couldn’t even think of his name… he had always walked with the elegance of a cat (or rather a panther).

”Sir, are you all right?” called out Mallory, rushing over to the dark figure. ”Do you require my help?”

The way the man waved him away in irritation squeezed Black’s heart painfully. That fine, gracious gesture, he had known a man using it, a hated man. Mallory took a step back, aware of his social rank and position. Never come too close to your master unless he wishes you to.

The dark man was ignoring him, clutching the hand of a small girl who was skipping at his side, trying to catch up with the long strides of her… father? Who in their right minds would want a child with the greasy traitor?

”Please,” she pleaded breathlessly, ”I can’t…”

They stopped, the man looking down at her. Sirius couldn’t see the expression in his face, but he had an uneasy feeling that he was frowning.

”I was under the impression that you wanted to go for a walk in this charming freezing weather,” hissed the man, putting stress on every syllable to express his irritation and lack of patience. At that voice, laced with silk, Black’s knees gave in and he slumped wordlessly to the ground, hidden behind a fence. It must have been him!

”You walk too fast!” pouted the little girl, pleading with her huge childlike eyes. At that moment Sirius thought that she was too pretty for being… the traitor's.

”You should be kinder to her, sir, she's just a child,” spoke Mallory rather boldly. He had barely finished the sentence when a slap coloured his cheek, echoing darkly in the deserted square.

”Have I ever asked for your opinion?” came that deceivingly soft, silken voice again. The man’s face was visible now, pale as usually and angry, lips curled in contempt. Yet there was also weariness present in the inky eyes and they were burning as if in fever. But undoubtedly it was he!

”I apologise, sir,” whispered the brown-clad wizard, bowing his head in submission. The girl who had been looking at him with hope bowed her head too as if in defeat. A bright blue woollen cap fell onto her eyes at the motion and the tall man righted it quickly.

”Come, Mira, you don’t want to catch cold!”

The authoritative voice offered no room for complaints and the girl followed obediently relieved that the pace was slower. Behind the fence, Sirius Black bared his teeth angrily, wishing to jump at the man and bite into his neck.

Later that day, Draco Malfoy stood in all his glory in front of a mirror getting ready for the New Year’s Party at Hampton Court Palace, Lord Voldemort’s residence. The event was a great one for not only were they going to celebrate the New Year, but also it was the time when everyone celebrated the Dark Lord's birthday. He brushed his longish blond hair away from his face and turned around to expect his fine robes. Excellent. He had chosen to wear a beautiful deep blue velvet robe in which he looked truly handsome. The Lord should be pleased. Carefully he put on a necklace with a silver snake with little diamond eyes – symbol of the Death Eater Junior League he was leader of.

But shouldn’t he have chosen green colour for tonight? Or more silver? Only the highest ranked wizards (greens) were allowed to wear gold or silver, so the snake necklace should be enough to distinguish him as a member of the purest wizards. Not that he needed it, everyone knew the only son of Lucius Malfoy. Draco smiled contentedly at his image in the mirror.

Hermione Granger shook her head of once thick bushy locks and collapsed into a chair with a sigh. She felt dizzy and exhausted after having worked on a potion the entire day. Her gaze flew to a small mirror. She was beginning to look like her former teacher – skinny, pale, her hair lanky and greasy. So this is how the New Year’s Eve celebration should look like? For daylight she would do anything, for a moment of freedom she would kill. How many years had it been since her last sunrise? Five years spent in darkness or more?

Familiar steps echoed on the stairs and she shuddered. Not Malfoy again! ‘Her master’, she corrected herself. And Draco Malfoy it was, dressed in his expensive blue robes, mocking her with a subtle smile.

”You can finish for today, Granger,” he said and ordered a couple of Muggle servants to fill vials with the potion. They hastened to obey, not daring to displease their master. ”Have a bath, a long one,” sneered Draco, ”and wait for me, I won’t be long.”

She glared at him, but he only laughed. ”If you behave well, you may have some delicious left-overs from dinner.”

He blew her a kiss, turned around, his robes whirling dramatically, and left.

Lord Voldemort sat in a high, golden throne with Bellatrix Lestrange on his right and Lucius Malfoy on his left hand. Together they watched the crowd of pureblood wizards bowing deeply before them. After a gesture from Voldemort they began dancing. Lucius summoned a bottle of champagne and filled their elegant, crystal glasses.

”To the new year 76 AV,” he said with a charming smile. The Dark Lord lifted his glass. ”To all my faithful Death Eaters.”

His strange red eyes followed young Draco Malfoy who was dancing with his wife Pansy. ”And to the new generation of pureblood wizards!”

”I've seen him,” sighed Sirius, running a hand through his long, dark hair. Passing years has left their trace in it in form of a few grey strands. Remus sipped his wine, looking sceptically at his friend.

”How so? I haven't seen a trace of him anywhere during all those years,” he murmured, inspecting his glass closely. Various images attacked his mind – Greyback's latest commands, Inferi and the Whites, but no Snape, no trace of him among the Death Eaters… he shivered, willing the pictures away.

"Where was he, I wonder?" asked Remus, frowning at his glass, "I was beginning to think that he disappeared like so many people did. I thought that Voldemort must have killed him, that he must have displeased him somehow…"

"Obviously not, Remus," said Sirius, feeling anger boiling in his veins. He smashed his glass against the wall, making his friend cringe. "Oh, the traitor, back in England!" he laughed, "He'll suffer, Moony, I promise you that. When I saw him, I wanted to jump at him and tear him to pieces!"

But there had been that child. Why expose another innocent child to the cruelty of this hostile world? Although she had seemed like an offspring of a Death Eater, possibly Snape, she was an innocent. The light side would never lower itself to the level of the Death Eaters, Dumbledore, had he been alive, would never do such a thing. He flinched when a crumpled newspaper fell into his lap, he hadn’t heard anyone approaching, so lost he was in his thoughts.

”You’re right, Sirius, read this,” whispered Moony angrily, ”traitorous little snake!"

Remus gasped and Sirius too turned to the newspaper. There she was, the little girl, and behind her, among other people, Snape stood, motionless in the picture, his eyes cast down, a strand of dark hair falling into his eyes. He didn’t move to tuck it behind his ear, he looked almost like a statue as he stood there unmoving. Black’s eyes moved down, under the picture, and there it was – Severus Snape. Severus Snape. Severus Snape. Those two names were hitting his head like bludgers. Severus Snape. The murderer, the traitor who had killed Dumbledore and Harry too, with his actions. Was he not afraid of walking free and on his own through London?

"Remus, you're a spy, you'll have to spy on him, will you?" asked Sirius, watching how his friend flinched.

"Sirius…" the werewolf hesitated, "You know that Greyback is doubtful about my loyalties… he's always been suspicious of me, because I lived with the wizards…"

"Yes, my friend," sighed Sirius, watching how tired and worn Lupin looked, "yet I need you to continue spying. Now when Snape's back in the country, you could be able to get closer to him. Please, Remus."

The werewolf smiled wearily, "Sirius, you know I would never refuse to help you. Don't think that I don't want Severus to pay for what he did. I'll go on with my task," he said, picturing Greyback in his mind, which caused another shudder rip through his body. "I'll continue."

And Sirius smiled back at him gratefully, lifting his glass to toast him. "Revenge will be sweet, my friend."