snarrymod (snarrymod) wrote in snarry_games, @ 2006-04-30 11:25:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | scruples, submission, team angst |
TEAM ANGST ENTRY - SCRUPLES
Original poster: snarrymod
Title: More Than Words (Or, Four Announcements and One Defining Moment. Maybe Two.)
Author: treewishes
For the 2006 Snarry Games Angst Team, prompt "Scruples."
Warnings: Warnings/Kinks Pop up
Categories: Drama/Angst
Summary: No one should have to make choices like that. Ever.
A/N: Thanks for helpful (and fast!) beta support from snapetoy and eolianbeck, and for cheering from the sidelines from some very wonderful people.
-- First --
"Question for Mr. Potter! Harry, how did it feel watching him die?"
The babble of the crowd faded away in anticipation of the answer. He could almost feel Potter's flinch.
He had known the press conference would devolve to this point; they were lucky it was later rather than sooner. The Atrium was teeming with Aurors, reporters, and any number of hangers-on at the edges of his vision. And they had been at it for far longer than was needed. To add tyranny to the tedium, these blasted chairs were high-backed and post-modern, and he itched to cast another cushioning charm.
He blinked at a series of flashes from the bank of cameras on his right, whereupon he glared at Weasley, willing him to remember his promise to keep this farce under control.
"Now, Zilda, I don't think we need to have those kinds of questions, do we?"
"But Minist--!" Without another word, the luckless reporter was Silenced. Weasley, thank Merlin, had grown a bit of spine.
The babble started up again. He refocused his glare, now targeting the photographer from the Prophet. Once that camera was no longer trained on him, he spared a glance to his right. He was gratified to see that Ms Lovegood seemed to be unruffled by all of this. He also noted that Potter was holding himself together so far.
As for the fourth member of their little quartet; he didn't spare any concern for her composure. Her sanity, on the other hand, remained a fascinating question.
"I want to reiterate that our four Saviours," -- the Minister gestured at them, arrayed as they were against the backdrop of the stage like poultry for sale at the butcher -- "That these four acted with the full sanction of the Ministry at all times." He heard a suppressed snort from his left. He composed his mind to blankness once more and silently cursed Ms Tonks; it was possible the least thing would set Potter off.
"Were any of the Death Eaters taken alive?" The question was shouted from the back of the room.
Ms Tonks cleared her throat. "The answer is no. I believe this was primarily because none knew at first whether to fight or flee. There was a good deal of confusion because many expected that their leader could not be killed. They were also convinced that Mr Snape and I were on their side." She swallowed. "Once it became clear that it was too late to run, they fought to the death."
He admired the simple truth of her words. Details were highly overrated.
"Can you confirm that You-Know-Who was revived?" A different voice.
"Yes." Potter spoke up for the first time. "He was revived twice. Voldemort--"
A series of gasps raked through the crowd, but Potter's voice stayed strong and steady. "Voldemort had acquired some valuable charms that could be used to revive himself if he were killed."
Only one or two exclamations at Voldemort's name this time. A number of reporters were busily scribbling. He wondered idly if any of them would use Voldemort's name in their stories or if the wizarding world would be subjected to several more years of pathetic epithets in the press.
"He claimed to his followers that he was immortal. We had to use up each of the charms to revive him, in order to make sure they couldn't be used again. It was the combination of the special potion and the crystal that Mr Snape used --"
"That he and Professor Dumbledore developed," Ms Lovegood added, helpfully.
"Yes," Potter agreed. "They developed, together, a very powerful potion in combination with a very rare crystal. It could fully incapacitate anyone, even Voldemort."
Mutterings of surprise and comprehension ricocheted through the crowd. Almost casually, he reached into his pocket to hold the heavy crystal in his hand. It wasn't particularly rare; samarium and cobalt were mined round the world. And while it was as potent as promised, it hadn't been large enough, in the end.
Potter continued. "The details are classified, of course. But it was clear that Voldemort would only drink such a powerful potion if it were given to him by someone he trusted."
Yes, that had been the crux of it. After Albus had sacrificed everything -- and it had been very close to literally everything -- it had been left to him to carry it through. Convincing Voldemort that the potion would strengthen him had meant, firstly, that it had to actually be a strengthening potion. A revolutionary strengthening potion, at that. Voldemort was brilliant, at charms and at potions, and would have known otherwise.
But he had studied the Muggle literature, and he had chanced that Voldemort would not have done. The resulting formula, a magnetostrictive suspension consisting of nanoscale ferroparticles, had been ready since February. He and Albus had argued endlessly over its use. In the end, it was Albus' sacrifice that overcame his scruples in using such an insidious tool.
He had carried the stone with him every day since.
"Harry, did he trust the werewolf? Was that who gave him the potion?"
He leaned forward, effectively taking the stage from Potter. "I'm afraid that role fell to me." He paused, enjoying the dance of quills in the front row. "The potion had to be introduced gradually into Voldemort's bloodstream over a matter of weeks. Once it was sufficiently concentrated, the crystal, when placed against his heart, effectively stopped his blood from flowing." He leaned back and crossed his arms across his chest; partially for effect, partially to see if Potter was all right. He noted that Tonks was holding Potter's arm. Good.
"If I may ask Mr Snape a question. Why hadn't you killed him before all this happened?"
Ah, a polite muckraker; his favorite kind. He cleared his throat. "As many of you know, Voldemort was a practised duellist. He also retained more than a dozen of his strongest supporters in the home of Mrs Narcissa Malfoy. Ms Tonks and I-- " he stopped, choosing his words more carefully. "As I am also a trained duellist, when he aimed his wand at Mr Potter with the intent to take his life, my instinctive reaction was to disarm him. I knew, however, that this sacrifice would be quickly overturned by Voldemort's minions." He heard a murmur in the crowd. He spared a glance at Potter, who was looking at him with the same look in his eyes as he had then, at the end, when it was all over.
On that fateful morning at the start of the day from hell, however, Potter had glared at him with a mixture of determination and hatred in his eyes. A recipe for death, he had thought, frantically trying to calculate any way out. He had wanted another course of the potion in Voldemort's system before using the crystal. But then the werewolf came calling, dragging Potter behind him.
Potter had broken eyeglasses, a broken hand, and no fear left.
He knew then that the only way out was through.
So he'd pressed the crystal to Voldemort's back, hoping it would work in time, and hoping that Voldemort would see this only as a gesture of support if it did not. And if it did not, wondering in carefully shielded thoughts what possible reason there could be to go on. But it had worked. Voldemort had shuddered and then crumpled and he'd kept the crystal pressed in place as he lowered the chill body to the floor.
And when it was all over, when Potter had tried to revive Voldemort for the last time, when they finally learned that Voldemort's attempt to make Potter his last Horcrux seventeen years before had failed-- it was then that Potter had looked at him, in the same way he was looking now.
"A question for Ms Tonks-- what was it like being undercover?"
"Stressful, of course," she began, leaning forward. "But I was just doing my job, as an Auror."
Before Weasley could again certify the truth of this, Ms Lovegood added, "And I would like to say that she saved my life several times."
She had, in fact, saved them all. He still wondered that he hadn't died that day.
"Minister, when does the Ministry expect to begin the trial?"
He took a deep breath, shaking off the cobwebs of memory. He was curious as to the schedule as well.
Arthur stepped forward. "The Wizengamot will meet next week to deliberate upon the matter. The deaths of twenty-four known Death Eaters will be dealt with according to proper procedure," he assured them. "And I believe that is all the time we have for questions today."
The crowd buzzed and shifted, and he quashed his instinct to flee the swarm as quickly as possible. As they filed off the stage, Ms Lovegood thoughtfully removed their Sonorous charms. "I'm so sorry--," Arthur boomed, and she removed his as well. "I'm so sorry you all had to go through this," he whispered. But of course that was not the case; the entire Ministry were ecstatic that they were alive and were able to be put through this at all.
"Excellent wandwork, Ms Lovegood," he told her. She smiled at him, and he was pleased to see it.
The press were being ushered out, but not so the Minister's family. There had always been a glut of Weasleys, but they seem to have multiplied; he knew that the last time Potter had seen them was at a family wedding, before he'd been tricked into leaving and events were set into motion.
"Thanks," Ms Tonks muttered, under her breath.
"We must all play our parts," he responded, as quietly.
The Weasleys crowded around Potter, eager to support him in his hour of need. He waited with Ms Tonks and Ms Lovegood, exchanging a guarded look. Though they were each healed and outwardly whole, they all bore deeper wounds still.
He could see Potter trying to extricate himself from the Weasleys, who were not quite pulling at his robes, but only just. He found himself both impressed and bothered by their earnest concern, but Potter seemed used to it. The Granger girl hovered at the edges of the crowd. She alone spoke to the three of them. "Thanks to you, too," she said, "Luna, you must have been very brave. And Tonks," she smiled. "Professor Snape," she added, finally. He responded with a nod.
Harry was at last successful and he moved away from the red-headed throng. "Shall we?" he asked in a clipped tone. Potter had been affable and calm with the others; with the three of them, his tension was immediately apparent.
Tonks gave a brief shake of her head, and little flashes of white light washed through her hair. "Come down to my office, we can talk there." He pointedly ignored the retreating Weasleys watching them over their shoulders.
They followed her down the stairs. Her office was a jumble of artefacts, books, and file folders; there was also an odd assortment of clothing on a rack shoved in the corner, with an untidy heap of shoes below.
He turned around and Potter was gone. He focused his hearing, locating him talking to Ms Lovegood in the tea room down the corridor, and relaxed. Tonks looked up from rearranging chairs.
"Still?" she asked. He nodded. She gave him a weak smile in return.
The two of them had come to a meeting of minds years ago, and he was glad to have someone here and now who appreciated that history. She had always understood him better than most in the Order. He, in turn, had recognized her potential as well as she did.
And she had not disappointed him in that endeavour. When it had become clear that there was a traitor in the Order, she had taken up the mantle of flushing him out. It had been easy for her to insinuate herself with the werewolf. And, apparently, just as easy to befriend her cousin.
"Draco," he said.
"Yes," she said, looking sad. "That was difficult."
He knew she was speaking of his death, but he had a different question in mind. "He trusted you," he said. "How did you manage that?" He had been straightforward -- and deliberately unsuccessful -- in his attempts to gain Draco's confidence.
"Oh, you know. Old Auror's trick," she waved her hand, and her hair brightened for a moment. "You ask the mark for a favour, a small one. Once they help you, then they feel as though they have to keep it up, for some reason. Because they own a bit of your success, or some such."
"Yes, that would have worked with him." He noticed her staring down at her hands as the colour of her nails darkened to a vibrant pink. He realized with a start that she had to focus to keep her hair and nails from whitening.
"Still?" he asked, gently. She looked up, like a cat caught with a mouse, and nodded, biting her lip.
"Here's the tea," Ms. Lovegood announced. She simultaneously cleared the table and smoothly deposited the heavy tray, without a word, and with her wand tucked in her pocket. He wondered how much of the skill she had attained was practice with her new wand, and how much was part of the apparently mystical relationship she had with it.
"It's only been a week," Ms. Lovegood said, "I wouldn't worry about it."
"She's been right so far," Potter added.
But of course he would worry. It couldn't be helped.
"All right," Tonks put her cup down. "We need a plan."
-- Second --
"How many of 'em did you kill, Luna?"
"Zilda, please. I must ask you to temper your enthusiasm," Arthur said, sharply but ever so politely. The man was clearly not cut out for the job.
"No, I'll answer," and Luna stepped forward. They had discussed what they could say here versus what they had said in front of the Wizengamot, and Luna was right on cue. "I killed one witch, Bellatrix Black LeStrange," she said with cool self-assurance.
"And you, Severus?" The infamous Zilda had a single focus, apparently.
He carefully blanked his mind. "I killed one witch as well," he answered. "Narcissa Black Malfoy." Tonks chose that moment to lean toward him the slightest amount. He accepted the support gratefully. "And two wizards; Fenrir Greyback and Ramesh Patel." Images fluttered through his mind: Narcissa screeching at him; Greyback trying to run. Patel cowering.
Then Harry stepped forward. "And between us, Tonks and I took care of the rest," he said. The crowd murmured and a few cameras flashed. He heard "well, he is the chosen one," loudly from his right.
"What about the werewolf? Who killed the traitor?"
Traitor. He froze automatically at the word.
Fealty was such a tenuous concept; really, wasn't everyone a traitor to some cause or other?
He couldn't tell where the question had come from, but it gave him hope. He and Tonks had ended up on the side that won, and suddenly their ethics were unquestionable. They were saviours now. Snape had waited many years for this freedom, to be rid of the label of Death Eater; but he had never thought he could shed the brand of traitor. Some treachery, it seemed, could be forgiven.
On the other hand, if he never saw a story about "The Four Saviours" in print again, it would be too soon.
Harry stepped forward. "I did," he said, softly. He paused to collect himself, pink with emotion. Luna took her wand out, efficiently yet noticeably, and he felt a perfect cooling charm float over all of them.
"He had me fooled, even as he was taking me to Voldemort," Harry went on. "I trusted him, you see. But then I told him that I knew about the, about the charms that Voldemort had acquired, how he had managed to live even through the killing curse by using them. It was then that he turned on me." Tonks gave Harry's arm a squeeze, and he nodded. He stopped then, breaking down. Tonks put her arm around his shoulder, and the press were silent, waiting.
It was interesting to note that not all treacheries were easily forgiven. Or forgotten.
Not that it mattered now that Lupin was dead at Harry's hand.
"Question for Harry -- When do you expect a verdict?"
"We know as much as you do," he answered, his voice cracking. "We are confident that the results will be positive. And quick." With that, he stepped back and waved at the crowd.
Snape searched the crowd for a few more moments, but there didn't seem to be anything amiss. He followed Luna and Tonks back into the building, leaving Potter to bring up the rear and shrug off the stray questions. He had no worries at all as to the effectiveness of Luna's Keep Away spell.
They walked quickly through the Quibbler offices and into the lift. Tonks made a face as she pressed the button. "Two hours, tops, and we'll be celebrating."
He had to smile at that, though Harry still looked pale and sad. Luna, however, grinned. "I think it will be more like two days, Tonks."
"Whatever," she waved her arm, and her hair darkened a bit.
The lift stopped at the fourth floor. A pair of copyeditors peered in, and then backed away quickly. The doors closed and they continued up to the penthouse.
"Tonks, did you --" Luna began.
"I did nothing of the sort!" she exclaimed.
This time Harry smiled, a little.
He really must thank Arthur for deflecting some of the more aggressive press. The speculation about the death match between Harry and Voldemort was all over the Prophet, but the question hadn't been raised today. He fervently hoped that Arthur's abilities regarding the Wizengamot were as effective.
They settled into their usual spots in the Quibbler offices. Luna and Tonks sat in the comfortable chairs around the low table and Harry wedged himself into the corner of the sofa. Once they were set, Snape poured himself a cup of tea and perched on the window seat.
"Did you talk to Shacklebolt?" Luna asked, and before he could answer, Tonks said she had.
"Oh, and he gave me this." She produced a box from a pocket and placed it in the centre of the table.
Luna looked at Harry. Harry took a deep breath and reached for the box. He opened it and stared at the contents for a moment, then poured the broken locket out onto the table.
"It's time we talked about him," Luna began.
She was right, of course. But what to say?
It wasn't even a temptation to state the obvious. That Lupin had always been a traitor. That Lupin had been the one to turn Pettigrew. That Lupin had set up Black, perhaps more than once. That Lupin had been one of Voldemort's Inscrutables, deep undercover for years.
"He always looked broken to me, before," Luna said.
"To me, too," Tonks agreed. "But not in the same way, of course," she added, shaking her head at Luna. "I don't know how you ever got through the day, before you picked up that wand."
"It was like seeing things inside out, I think," Luna replied. "It's been so different seeing things as you always have. It's still confusing at the oddest times."
Harry asked, "What was-- How did he look to you?"
"He had a black core inside him," she mused. "Was it guilt, do you think?"
"Guilt that he was a Dark creature, you mean?" Tonks asked, her eyes flashing.
"I imagine he had many reasons to feel the Darkness. Lycanthropy is inherently a Dark affliction," he said. "But I felt it intensified in the spring, the same as Tonks did."
"Well, I have to agree with that! At the wedding, he was so black I could barely see him."
He had wondered about this. "Was that the first time you realized you could See?"
She turned to him. "No, though it was later that day, I think. I could see him as a person when I touched the wand. That was when I really started to understand." She smiled with a sad laugh. "I always thought I was absentminded, losing things. And that people took my books and clothes, sometimes. But it turned out that I simply couldn't see them anymore. Have you ever heard of such a thing, Professor?"
"No, nothing like this has been documented, as far as I am aware." He agreed with Tonks; how Luna had functioned at all before was a mystery. "I surmise that you must have sensed where others were around you in order to even see the floors and walls."
"Yes, that makes sense. Things around me would change all the time."
"And people?" Harry asked.
"No, people were mostly the same. I think because we have our own sense, rather than just how others perceive us."
"So you can..." Harry paused. "So you can tell a person's intentions."
She smiled. "A bit." She pulled the wand from her robes and set it on the table. "Let me look at you." Her eyes took on that unfocused, misty gaze that he recognized from before.
Snape leaned across and picked up the wand. He'd known it as Bella's wand, for years. But fate had played havoc with it, taking it from her when she went to Azkaban, and sending it Ollivander's shop, where he'd hidden it from her. Clever man, selling it before he scuttled off.
"You are all muzzy, Harry," she sounded puzzled. "Are you worried about the verdict? Because I'm not. None of them were conflicted at all, and you heard how nice they were during the hearing."
"Handy to have your own internal foe glass," Tonks commented.
Harry had to concede the point. "Yes, I know you're right, Luna."
"Then what is it?" She pressed Harry to elaborate, and he wondered if it was too soon.
Harry looked over at him, then back at Luna. "It's just that-- that I should have known. I shouldn't have trusted him."
"We all trusted him, Harry," Tonks said.
"But you at least suspected, Tonks! Enough to go undercover into the Death Eaters to find out what he was up to!" Harry scrubbed his hand across his face. "All I did was go with him, right into the trap."
Luna reached for the wand, and Snape put it back in her hand. "That is not all you did, Harry, and you know it. Once you got your bearings, you worked out exactly what to do." She shook her head, "You kept your head, when the rest of us were ready to panic. That was so important."
It had, in fact, been the key. The room had been sheer chaos; he could see it all still. Harry pinned spread-eagle against the window; Tonks, her skin glowing with power, sparks flying from her white hair and eyes. He had been ready to run, doubting he could even save himself, and losing hope knowing that Voldemort was only incapacitated, not dead.
It was when Voldemort began to twitch, when he'd realized that the stone was no longer working, that his internal alarm went fully on. And then Luna had somehow seen in him the desperate need. She had nicked Bella's wand in the chaos and had levitated a chunk of stone from the bookcase; stone that he later found was an alloy of neodymium and iron and boron, and it flew apart and then together again as it stuck fast to Voldemort's chest. That, with the potion, had been enough.
And then it had all happened so fast; Luna had freed Harry, and he'd fallen and sprained his ankle. And Snape had defended himself as best he could-- he took a breath, remembering the growing panic. And then Tonks rose up in full fury, white hair crackling with power, white eyes flashing, white light oozing from cracks in her skin.
Somehow he had been spared from the curses she rained down that day; he was still not sure how.
"Yes, Harry, you know what you did for me," Tonks said softly. "You brought me back to myself. Who knows what might have happened if you hadn't." Her hair rustled, but didn't change colour. He took this as a good sign.
"And you and Severus figured out what the horcruxes were, and what to do with them," Luna added.
Harry looked up at Snape. "That was mostly you," he said.
He rolled his eyes. "And I am left to state the obvious, yet again," he sighed. "It was the four of us. None of us could have done it alone."
"I still feel like a fraud," Harry said. "Here I am, supposed to be the Chosen One." He wrenched himself off the sofa and stalked over to the teapot. "Prophecies are rubbish."
"No, they aren't," Luna disagreed.
"You all know what I mean!"
"No, I do not, Potter. I will concede that the way we interpret them may be flawed, and when it comes to Divination that even the most brilliant wizards sometimes make very grave errors--" He stopped his tongue, regretting the words the instant they were spoken.
"Like Dumbledore." Harry sank down onto the floor, disconsolate.
"Yes." Snape sat down on the sofa, in the spot Harry had vacated, and said, "He trusted Lupin as well, you know."
"I know."
"The Headmaster was convinced that much would have to be sacrificed," he said. "And much was."
"But for what? I don't get it," Harry sounded lost, an empty teacup forgotten in his hand.
"I can't explain all of it." He shook his head. "To be truthful, I can't explain much of it. I believe he had faith that many of the fallen could be saved."
Tonks was chewing her lip, her hair almost flat against her head. "But if they had the blackness in them," she began, glancing at Luna.
"I agree; but we didn't have that insight at the time, sadly. No, we only knew that things were not what they seemed; I had caught on to your games with Draco," he told Tonks, "And I knew you were socializing with a number of Death Eaters. But I didn't understand that Lupin was using Polyjuice with your purloined hair until much later."
"Wait," Harry looked at Tonks, puzzled. "That wasn't you last year? It was Remus?"
"I suspected he was using my face sometimes, with the Aurors in Hogsmeade," Tonks admitted. "And I would follow him other times, metamorphed."
"He wasn't stupid, Tonks," he said, gently. "And I believe he was somewhat conflicted, for a time."
"But not at the end," Harry said.
"No," he agreed. At the end, it had been simple. Tonks had been a terrible vision, evoking Morgana the White, crushing their opponents with a shower of hellfire and blinding light. Luna had pulled him out of the way of a huge silvery hex, somehow anticipating where it would fall. But Tonks had stopped, unable to go on, when she faced Lupin. Harry had hit him with an anodized casting that Snape suspected was tungsten, and stabbed him with an obsidian blade. Luna had found the silver letter opener in the desk.
The drawing room at the Malfoy estate was a veritable treasure trove of murder weapons.
Harry had held Tonks down and somehow coaxed her from her passion. And only then could they go about disarming the horcruxes. Tonks had stared at Lupin's broken body for far too long.
"I know, I --" He looked up to find Tonks in tears, her hand covering her mouth. Luna stood, and put her arms around Tonks' shoulders for a moment. "Both of you know that no magic -- and none of us -- is perfect. I'm supposed to have this infallible Sight, and I couldn't see the other bite until he was dead."
Tonks looked up at her, wiping her eyes. "The other bite?"
"Greyback's second bite. The one on Professor Lupin's other shoulder."
Snape blinked. "A second bite."
She shrugged. "It was what turned him black, don't you think? I suspect it must have been during the raid on Hogwarts."
Harry looked up; at her and then at him. "Could that have done it? Could it have aggravated the wolf?"
Tonks looked speculative. "If that were true--"
"He would have had no hope," Harry concluded for her. "He would have had more wolf in him than he could stand."
She nodded. "It explains why he would go to Voldemort."
"Maybe." Harry shook his head. "But I still don't get why he would think that bringing me along was a good idea."
"I don't know, either," Tonks answered him. "He kept saying it was the only way." She got up and sat down next to Harry on the floor. "It means that he wasn't bad all along, though."
Luna looked over the heads of the two on the floor, and her eyes met Snape's. He nodded with understanding and sadness. Lupin might not have been born a dark creature, but he had been one since he was a boy. Once the dark had taken hold, it was almost impossible to deny its lure.
Snape had always feared that he would succumb to the dark. He'd done any number of dark deeds, always in the cause of the light. But he had known the risk. When he had accepted that Luna had the true sight, that she could see dark and light and truth, and when she had turned to him with trust in her eyes, only then had he felt the fear loosen.
He wondered when the balance for Lupin had been tipped. Perhaps Lupin had been fighting against the Dark -- and winning -- until just before the end. Whether or not Lupin had managed a balance in those earlier years, or whether he had been on a Dark path from the beginning, was an interesting yet impossible question. There was not a practical distinction for those who dealt in the real world.
But neither he nor Luna would mention that today. Nor why Albus never knew to use Luna's Sight.
-- Third --
"Question for Mr Snape. Can you tell us where it all happened, Severus?"
He cleared his throat. Apparently, the witch had managed to hold on to her position at the Prophet, in spite of his not-so-covert campaign for her ouster.
"In the drawing room, in the west wing." He turned and pointed. "Just there, the last window on the landing."
"And why tear it down, Minister Weasley?"
"Ah, well, that's an excellent question, Zilda," Arthur began. "As you know, we have been on a campaign for the last sixteen months to clear the dwelling of the substantial Dark energy that continues to permeate every stone, brick, and timber in it." He looked determined. "We have met with some success, but it has been at the expense of the structural integrity of the building. Therefore, we have determined that it's best simply to demolish it."
Weasley was turning into a master of understatement. He hadn't mentioned the blood that had seeped into every stone, brick, and timber. Or the screams you could still hear on the stairs down to the dungeons.
"I invite you all to examine the plans, we have them all right here. We intend to do this with every safety precaution in place."
The four managed to exit the tent before they were overrun.
"Looks like we aren't the big story, anymore, eh?" Tonks observed, heading down a cobbled path to a sunny terrace. She was right; no reporters followed.
"And what a lovely day," Luna added. Though Halloween was around the corner, it was a beautiful sunny day, clean and crisp. He and Harry moved four fist-sized rocks to a spot in the sun but with a hedge between them and the gathering up the slope. Out of sight, out of mind. He rechecked the line of sight while Tonks transfigured them into big wooden chairs.
Luna cast a Silencing charm. "I think it's your decision to live in Diagon Alley, Harry," she said. "That's what convinced them we were nothing special. I think that was very brave, after the trial was over."
"It wasn't that bad." Harry shrugged. "Well, maybe it was better after I got back to Hogwarts, and things settled down."
"Playing for England doesn't hurt either," Tonks said. "And your reputation certainly helped me. I could have been a disgraced Auror, living on the streets--"
"But instead, you are a successful investigative journalist, and working for the best newspaper in wizarding Britain." Luna beamed at Tonks.
"Yes, well," he interrupted them, knowing they were doing it in part to cheer Harry, and in part to irritate him. Niceness was highly overrated.
He looked up the hill to the Ministry's press event, and back at his compatriots. "So why are we here, again?"
"Because Arthur asked us," Tonks answered. Which was only the truth. They had spent the last month trying to get out of it, but Arthur had eventually begged, and they had finally agreed to help.
"I suppose in the bigger picture, if this is the last loose end, I can put up with it." Still, it was eerie being back. He could have died up there in the drawing room. They all could have. He could have been convicted and sent to prison during the trial. He could have been vilified by the community of British wizards.
None of that had happened.
He had gambled against the highest of odds that day, and he'd won. For all intents and purposes, he was a free man.
Tonks stood and turned to face the breeze. "I fancy a walk about. Who's with me?"
She knew better than to look to him, and Harry also seemed disinclined to move. Luna, however, was game, and the two of them set off.
"They're too good to me," Harry said, looking out over the hills.
He leaned back and raised his eyebrows. "I disagree."
Harry shrugged. "I know. It's just..."
"Mmm," he mused, "I might say that going to every match you play is a bit much."
Harry smiled. "It's not that," he said. "Though the rest of the team do think I'm dating one of them."
"Understandable," he replied. But not possible, they all knew that.
"And a lot of the fans," he continued. "At the match in France last week, you should have seen the press. And the crowds."
"Which is part of why England recruited you," he responded.
"I don't deserve it."
Did he not yet understand? "Harry. You are the Chosen One."
"But I'm not--" He stopped, shifting a few pebbles from one hand to the other. "I did the least of all of you, and they're giving me all the credit. I didn't come up with the magic potion to stop Voldemort. I didn't See all the things that Luna did. I didn't kill all those Death Eaters. You three were the heroes."
'Hero' was another of those words that could change meaning in a heartbeat. Snape was tempted to argue, but conceded the small point. "But you did the things that we could not. Things we still cannot do. Think, Harry. The Ministry would never have invited the three of us to something like this." He glanced over and noticed the press tent was listing a bit heavily in the wind, and he sincerely hoped that Luna and Tonks would not find it amusing to roll it down the hill. "Can you imagine the Ministry feting two traitors and a lunatic in that tent over there? The answer is simply no. But together with you, we are enjoying a lovely day in the country."
"I get that, and I'm glad I can do it," Harry said, looking uncomfortable. He tossed a pebble into the hedge. "It's just so..."
"Did you never think that absorbing prophecies and publicity might not be the hardest task of all? What do you think Dumbledore did all those years?"
"Meddling."
Ah, yes. "There was that."
"But it's not as though I've done anything else, either. Look at you, writing books for Luna, and Tonks, doing all those special investigative reports for the Quibbler. And Luna is a bloody media tycoon." He dropped the pebbles back to the terrace. "Me, I play a game for a living."
"Perhaps you are still waiting for the experience that will define you."
Harry chuckled. "I think I've had enough of those kinds of experiences, thanks."
"I don't know if you have." Snape leaned back in his chair and studied his clasped hands. "I'm sure you recall the moment, but I don't believe you realize what it meant to me." The memories crystallised as he continued, "It was in that split second when Voldemort stirred in my arms, before Luna Accio'd the other stone. I distinctly remember thinking I would have to choose between the three of you. I thought I could save only one." He looked around for Tonks and Luna, and then back to Harry. "I could only get to one of you before I had to Apparate." He remembered the scene distinctly; Harry splayed against the window, pinned in place by Lupin; Luna pressed into the corner by the bookcase, her eyes seeing everything that no one else could; and Tonks on the verge of revealing her loyalties.
"No one should have to make choices like that. Ever. But I knew then that it would be you."
-- Fourth --
"Where's Zilda?" Her questions at these events had become a great source of amusement; the chance that she would be here was one reason he'd looked forward to coming.
"Oh, we decided we could keep this informal, Severus," Arthur said. That was a disappointment. And besides, he was sure that the hair-thinning hex he'd sent to Zilda via owl post had nothing to do with it.
"I think it's fitting that we should celebrate this announcement at Hogwarts rather than with a press conference," Arthur added. "Just to show things are all back to normal." Snape admitted that Arthur was back to his normal interfering self. Across the room, Harry smiled at Minerva, and he knew it balanced his own scowl.
Balance, he knew, was important.
He refilled his glass. The reception was almost cozy; the four of them, the Hogwarts staff, a few friends and other assorted Weasleys. They were in a little-used salon, with a balcony that had an excellent view of the setting sun.
"A toast." He looked up to find Harry next to him, raising his glass, and he followed suit. "To endings. And beginnings."
"Which is this?" he muttered under his breath, and drank.
Luna answered, "Both, really." He automatically looked for Tonks, who was squeezing past one Weasley or another to join them.
"Every ending is a beginning," Luna added, and Harry and Tonks agreed. It did seem to be an ending of sorts, even though they were celebrating a beginning.
"So Harry, do you think you can live up to the legacy that Professor Snape left behind?" Tonks was smiling a very pink smile as she asked the question.
"Yes, Potter, have you rehearsed your opening lectures?" Snape tried to recapture the hauteur of teaching DADA, but knew he hadn't intimidated Harry one bit. His eyes were filled with determination and promise now, so different from the worried eyes that had haunted Snape for too long.
"I've been meaning to ask you about that," Harry countered, his eyes flickering now with humour. "Do you consult?"
"For a fee, commensurate with my knowledge and experience."
"I know how much you earn, Severus," he laughed. "But I still fancy a talk."
He nodded and followed Harry out onto the balcony. The view from here really was quite lovely. He was silent, knowing that Harry needed to be the one to begin.
"I'm writing a book for Luna, a textbook for Defence," he said, glancing at Snape out of the corner of his eye.
"She mentioned it."
"I wanted to --," he stammered, then calmed. "I wanted to know if you'd like to co-author it with me."
He smiled. "We can discuss it."
"I was going to ask if it would be a conflict of interest for you; to come to Hogwarts to work on it with me." He swallowed, peering at him. "I know you don't like to come back here."
"You misunderstand me. On the contrary, if I were certain I would not displease the Headmistress, all my scruples would be removed."
He turned and grinned. "The Headmistress knows that I intend to invite you to live with me."
"Ah." He quickly recalculated. "In that case --"
He took Harry's hand, and brought it to his lips, placing on it a gentle kiss, his eyes on Harry all the while.
In that case... scruples were highly overrated.
=-=-=-=-=
End
Don't forget to vote and review!