Tested:
1. Computer settings for both computers; Harry assures me they are correct. I concur.
2. Connection charms.
3. Other sites--the charm does not appear despite repeated navigation which suggest the problem is limited to the journal site. (A side note: Harry has quite a number of pornographic sites saved which I am quite certain would horrify his fan club. I mean, really, Potter, Chiseled Beef? In addition for some reason a site on cheesemaking is a necessity to save? Do note that I refrain from asking because I do not wish to know. And what the hell is a DJ Earworm Mashup site? You are an imbecile, you do realise this fact, yes?)

Notes:
Other journals appear to be experiencing the same issues (cf. Black and Minerva). Wizarding only, perhaps? Muggles appear not to be affected. Not all wizards--or at least not visible posts. Order targets? General wizarding populace? Specific targets revolving around Harry?

Journal appears unresponsive, in lock-down mode, perhaps? Harry's login refused, access to edit functions denied. Password charm appears not to be tampered with. Computer responsive to other commands/charms. Order files have been moved to external device by Harry--do not show evidence of outside access. Yet.

My login appears to work at the moment, and I have access to my journal and to edit functions on back entries. No slowing of use as was reported by Harry. Odd. It does not seem to matter which computer accesses the jour

My Draco,

The charm is not as strong as I wish, but I hope it eases your mind somewhat. Keep it on your personage--if nothing else it will allow you time for escape if necessary. It is configured to work only with your magical signature.

Happy birthday, ves'tacha.

Kamau tut. Always.

Your Severus

Left next to Draco's lunch plate is a carved mahogany box which contains a small, palm-sized ball, feather-light and black as midnight and slick and smooth to the touch. Shimmering within its depths is an exact representation of the night sky--in particular the constellation Draco. When pressed to skin, it causes Draco to become invisible for no longer than ten minutes. Engraved around the circumference in ancient Greek is a snippet of Plato: On the stars thou gazest, my Star.

Also next to the plate is an envelope containing a reservation card this evening for a table for three at The Witchery near Edinburgh Castle. On the card is scrawled (with the signatures in different handwritings) from Severus and Harry.

Prepare a bed in the infirmary. I have found Lupin. In such a condition that makes it bloody obvious that he did not take his Wolfsbane last evening. Do believe me when I say he and I shall have words on that score soon.

Wounds include one broken arm--a bite fracture from what I can ascertain--extensive lacerations, a head wound, and half his damned ear looks to be torn off, though still attached.

The girl is still missing. The elf has been found in the kitchen cupboard--poisoned and begging to be killed. I have restrained myself.

Inform Black. The last I saw of him, he was at Lake Cottage, asleep in Animagus form on my sitting room couch with Potter. Shedding damned hair everywhere I am certain. Cretin.

And Poppy? Do not distress Potter any more than necessary. I trust I make myself clear.

I need a damned Auror.

Black.

He is at St Mungo's. He is fine. Physically. However, I would say he requires your presence at the moment.

Snape

Granger,

Potter has informed Draco and I that today is the anniversary of your birth. As you have managed to proceed through yet another year without making an utter twat of yourself, I suppose that must be celebrated.

Regards of the day from my husband and myself. Now take a damned weeked off before I am forced to lock you from Hogwarts. That is not a request, you idiot. And no objections, Granger. Potter will keep the brat.

Severus Snape

------------------------
Enclosed are two front-row tickets to the Royal Shakespeare Company's performance of Twelfth Night in Stratford-upon-Avon, Saturday, 29 September.

Miss Lovegood,

After going through the CVs of a number of utter imbeciles the past few days, as well as Filiius Flitwick's office cabinets I have come to two conclusions. The field of charms research is populated by idiots, and your NEWT essay on transformative charms is surprisingly a hundredfold more intelligible than anything those halfwitted bastards have produced.

Ergo, I have determined that you shall take on his position.

I expect you in my office at half-seven Monday morning. I will go over Filius's syllabus with you and we will discuss the terms of your pay. Your first class will be held at nine o'clock.

And you will take on his responsibilities as Acting Head of Ravenclaw House until such time as another Head may be found or you prove yourself capable of not killing the damned brats.

Severus O. Snape
Headmaster
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Order of Merlin, 2nd Class

Albus, if you are available, I have something I wish to discuss with you.

There are moments when I am not entirely certain what day it is or whether I have slept or, in fact, whether I have gone home.

An elf puts food before me. I eat. I taste nothing.

There are forms to fill out, parents to calm, students to settle. Two staff positions empty, two Head of Houses gone, and ( not even a fortnight into term. )

I am so very tired. So very weary.

And still sleep eludes me.

Instead I sit in my office, alone, bottle of whisky in my hand which I claim is in honour of a fallen comrade. Perhaps in some way it is.

Truly, though, it is meant to make me forget. To stop my mind.

It has yet to work.

Albus, are you about?

Horace,

After deciphering only half of your inane, illegible ramblings, I have three things to say to you.

Crawl out of the damned bottle. You have lost your bloody mind. And for Merlin's sake, do pull yourself together, man, before you humiliate yourself even further.

Good God, Horace. This is utterly ridiculous, you realise.

Utterly.

I expect to see you in my office tomorrow morning before elevenses.

Severus

( All day long I have been working... )

We have the house to ourselves this evening, ves'tacha, and I will be home soon...

With the note is a single, perfect white lily and a spike of larkspur.

Albus, I need to request a favour of you regarding my son.

I suppose I should ask whether or not Nymphadora and Draco are speaking with the rest of us yet?

This is utterly ridiculous, you realise. Marcellus has every right to make his own decisions and Potter and I have every right to support him in such.

Draco,

For your information, you damned little twit, I have already procured a present for the wretch--which is entirely acceptable for me to call him as it was not on your prohibited list, thank you very much--and left it by the bed this morning. And what the bloody hell is wrong with calling him so' trekoth, damn it? It's not a sodding pejorative. Well. Not by much.

And I do not care for that suit; the collar does itch and how would you know it does not? You are not the one wearing the blasted thing. But fine. I shall wear it and suffer silently. I expect to be recompensed in full, however.

Stop fretting, ves'tacha. I am perfectly aware of what is expected of me, you realise. I shall not ruin Potter's day, I promise. I shall even dance with the brat if you insist. At least it will give me the pleasure of knowing his fool father is turning over in his grave.

Your Severus

P.S. Mistlethwaite is utterly mad. Merlin only knows what paranoid delusion is playing out in his wretched head; however, I suspect at this moment he is annoyed with me. I informed him this morning that if I caught him pinching my grandchildren once more I would cut off his damned fingers and feed them to the Squid.

Potter,

Harry,

I suppose given certain circumstances I shall be forced to take note of the anniversary of your damned birth this year. I shall leave the overt celebration to Draco--and, knowing his tendencies, Merlin only knows what ridiculous tripe he has decided to plan--however I happened upon these items by accident in Knockturn over the weekend while in search of powdered unicorn horn and thought they might be applicable after recent events.

Of course, I am making the assumption that, despite all indications otherwise during your school career, you have actually learned to master basic reading. I do hope I am not proved wrong.

I should suggest you have at least the first five chapters read before end of week. They will be useful in your training.

Regards of the day, etc., etc.

Seve Snape Severus

-----------------------
Along with the note are two excruciatingly neatly wrapped packages, one containing a brass and carnelian ring with protective runes carved around the shank, and the other containing two books: The Dark Arts: An Advanced Primer and a biography of Josef Wronski with a note attached that says This book will not open until you have finished reading the other. Do not try to break the charm, Potter. I guarantee it is impossible.

Minerva,

You sent a Death Eater to my house. A Death Eater.

And thought what? That I would not sense the Mark? Be damned grateful I hustled her upstairs before Draco realised. If he had not been upstairs when she arrived, if he and Potter had not only just walked in the room--you daft old cow.

I know bloody well she has the Mark--I grabbed her arm and checked when we were alone.

And on top of that, a wolf? Whose pack, Minerva? She's young enough to be one of Greyback's or belong to a lieutenant of his. She's barely a child, and I know exactly how young that bastard prefers to turn his wards. Easier to manage, he claims. She claims to have been Marked as a child, with her pack in last war. There were very few wolves who forced their packs to take that drastic of a fealty oath to His Lordship.

Who is this girl, Minerva, and why the bloody hell are you helping her hide?

Severus

They have been acting oddly the past three days, the both of them.

First Draco was sulking and Potter was drinking my whisky. Neither speaking to the other save through me which is beyond disturbing on so very many levels.

And then there was yesterday.

They Apparated into my workroom midday, wrapped around each other, kissing, touching, performing. Frenzied, almost, and Draco asked if Potter could fuck him there on the floor beneath my worktable. For me.

I am not an idiot.

There was a difference in the way they moved together. An intensity that seemed unleashed. Not that I am surprised. Draco always does enjoy winning. And to win over Ronald Weasley, whom he has hated practically since birth...

He came back to us. To our bed.

Odd that. Inexplicable even. But perhaps, like Draco, I should not question why as long as he pays his penance. Perhaps it is enough, for now, that he returned.

Still. Curious.

I took them to our bed afterwards, both of them tired, drained, and I watched them yet again as they slept. I am still not certain about this. Any of it. And yet I am willing to admit, to myself only perhaps, that the damned wretch has some strange hold on me as well. He is Potter, after all, and there is a power about him. A deep magic that shivers across my skin when he is pressed against me.

Draco senses it too. I can see it in his eyes when he looks at Potter. When he smiles faintly as he touches Potter's skin.

His abilities are returning, buoyed by tendrils of confidence. He Summoned a phial across the room last night. Without his wand.

And he did not even notice.

I was pleased.

Perhaps the brat shall not leave us defenceless after all.

Perhaps.

He still has a great deal further left to go.

He came back this morning, just as Issy was putting out breakfast. We knew exactly where he had gone; Draco had set a tracing charm on the Floo when Bellatrix first appeared so many months past.

Draco did not stay. He said nothing, merely stood up, threw his napkin down on the table and went upstairs. Potter couldn't even look at him.

Nor at me.

Instead the idiot sat quietly, picking at his plate of sausages and eggs--made just the way he prefers with the yolks ever so slightly runny. Issy notices these sorts of things after all.

Finally, he said, without looking up, I should have left a note, and when I said nothing, merely grunted and returned to the tripe on the Prophet's front page, he looked at me. He started to tell me where he'd been--I stopped him with a Potter, shut up.

We ate in silence.

( It took all the restraint I had to keep from hexing him in his chair. )

Lowell,

I suppose if you are insistent upon the brats being schooled at Hogwarts and since your eldest's OWL scores indicated the idiot had been tutored adequately, then I have no choice but to provide you with a test dosage of the potion. Expect it to arrive the last week of this month. Brewing is generally finished within a few days of the moon, and the potion must be taken before sundown on the approrpriate evening, of course.

I will require proper documentation of the potion's effects on the children, of course, and the appropriate precautions will be taken at Hogwarts as well for their safety as well as that of the other students.

Severus O. Snape
Headmaster
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Order of Merlin, 2nd Class

I do believe that your attendance at Lake Cottage is required.

The things that I allow Draco to talk me into.

Although perhaps talk is not the best verb. Fuck, perhaps, would be better. The sight of him over me, riding me on the dining table, dishes and glasses clattering to the floor, and the things he said, the images he brought to mind, gold and dark heads bent over me, mouths on my cock, hands in my hair, bodies pressed against me.

( I am only a man, after all. )

I spoke with Horace regarding Potter earlier this week.

Honestly, Draco. The damned things I do for you at times.

Staff meeting. This afternoon, half-five. Do not be tardy; do not be absent. I am in a vile, foul mood and I shall make your lives bloody miserable should either of those events occur.

S. Snape

Horace and Black.

I do not suppose either damned one of you has an explanation for why the entire seventh year of Gryffindor burst into tears at supper this evening? Nor why there are rampant rumors going round claiming that half of Slytherin, rather than duck, was served to the Head Table and to the examination proctors?

If I am to be labeled a cannibal by the dull-witted wretches I should like to know exactly why.

My office.

Immediately or I will sack the bloody both of you idiots without second thought. I still may.

You will explain this.

Snape