Aberforth Dumbledore - he knows everything (theoldgoat) wrote in blurred_lines, @ 2008-08-23 10:49:00 |
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Aberforth sat in a large, comfortable, slightly ratty armchair in his rooms in the Hog’s Head. In his hands was a portrait of a young girl and all his attention was on her. His face was fixed in an expression of terrible, heart-wrenching grief and as he continued to stare down at the portrait, a tear slid down his cheek and disappeared into his beard. The girl in the portrait smiled and laughed and danced around within the frame, seemingly oblivious to the grief of the man watching her or perhaps acting as she was because of his grief. Every now and then she would pause and look up at Aberforth with such winsome love on her face that it would trigger another tear that would slide down his face and into his beard. “Ariana,” Aberforth whispered, his voice hoarse and gravelly. The girl paused in the whirling dance she was engaged in and smiled up at him, laughing with delight as she continued whirling like a dervish. Aberforth tilted his head back, staring up at the ceiling, his eyes wet with unshed tears. His hands tightened on the picture frame momentarily then he seemed to realise what he was doing. He gave a start and set the portrait down gently on the low table in front of him, brushing his fingers over the still-dancing girl. He lurched to his feet and began to slow pace around the oddly Spartan, yet strangely comfortable room. The various pieces of furniture were all old and comfortable-looking, if a touch shabby, like their owner. One wall was lined with bookshelves packed with books ranging from Muggle mysteries and action novels to wizarding books on Charms and Defensive magic and just about everything in between. But the room was surprisingly lacking with much in the way of personal decoration beyond the portrait. There were no other photographs or pictures and nothing else to give a clue to the man still pacing. There was one other oddity about the room – on the credenza on the wall opposite the bookshelves was nearly two dozen misshapen lumps of fine ceramic and glass. Aberforth’s stride had gone from a slow, almost dreary pace to a swift, jerky, angry tempo. Guilt washed over his face followed by indignation, betrayal, a brief flash of remembered pain and then anger... a deep, strong and almost frightening anger that made his intensely blue eyes glitter icily. He came to an abrupt halt, almost quivering with poorly suppressed rage. He then whirled around with a speed a man decades younger than him would admire and picked up the first misshapen lump – this one of glass – that came to hand. His hand tightened on the lump for a moment and from the look in his eyes he was lost in the distant past... a past that infuriated him beyond belief. He suddenly screamed something so filled with rage that it was almost unintelligible and hurled the lump of glass at the fireplace where it shattered with a satisfying crash. Aberforth continued to rage, his words peppered with vicious, savage, filthy obscenities and accusations. The words Gellert, Albus, Ariana and me were the only really intelligible ones amid the torrent of guilty, angry, grief-filled sentences. When the last of the shapeless lumps was reduced to shards in the fireplace, all the fight seemed to drain away from Aberforth and he slumped where he stood. He staggered back over to the armchair, torn between grief, guilt and still a hint of anger. He stared at the picture of Ariana for a moment then reached out and picked up the bottle of Firewhiskey sitting on the table. Two more bottles sat underneath the table and Aberforth had every intention of drinking every last drop tonight. He opened to bottle and took a long swig, not bothering with a glass, then he slumped down in the armchair, his eyes still glued to the portrait of his sister. Ariana watched him with sober fondness and he could see the question in her eyes. He snorted and took another swig. “He won’t come here.” His voice was thick with trenchant bitterness and overwhelming grief and guilt. “Too much of a coward,” he spat. “Won’t face me. Won’t face you. Doesn’t want to face his biggest mistake. I should go up there and punch him in the nose again. Least he deserves.” He didn’t move though, simply raised the bottle to his lips again, guilt overwhelming the other emotions for a moment. “Least I deserve,” he whispered as he slumped even further into his chair, lost in a haze of memories, regrets, guilt and mourning. Marcus handed over a mug of mead to a customer and accepted his money with a distracted smile. The customer wandered off to one of the tables and Marcus walked over to lean against the bar next to Aknot. Both of them were quiet, listening carefully and occasionally exchanging worried and concerned looks. The distant sound of smashing glass made them both jump and they gave each other disquieted looks. This wasn’t the first time they’d been here on this day. It was something of a ritual by now. They manned the bar, Aberforth mourned his sister and Rhisiart arrived after sunset and looked after Abe, letting him vent and keeping him from doing anything foolish. The first two parts had happened as per normal but the third part... hadn’t. Sunset had come and gone and there had been no sign of the vampire. They knew that he was missing, knew that Abe had been looking for him without much success but they’d hoped beyond hope that no matter what had happened to the vampire, Rhisiart would still come waltzing in after sunset on this day. As far as they knew Rhisiart hadn’t missed this day even once in decades. His friendship with Abe predated theirs by several decades. “Do you think I should... go up there?” Marcus asked hesitantly. “Would you do any good?” Aknot said gruffly, his concern obvious in his eyes. Marcus sighed. He’d tried in the past on the odd occasion when Rhisiart had been late. He’d had no more success than Aknot in getting through to Abe on this night. In fact the last time he’d tried he been driven from the room as close to tears as he’d ever been since the accident that had so hideously scarred him. Abe had been... vicious in ways he’d never expected of his friend. “Rhisiart might still get here,” Aknot said into the growing silence. “I thought I was the optimist here,” Marcus said, trying for humour and mostly failing. Aknot snorted and they both looked up when the distant sound of crashing stopped. This was what they had been fearing – that Rhisiart still wouldn’t be here when Abe got into the most dangerous phase of this night. The moment when he stopped grieving and raging and started drinking. “He’s going to kill himself,” Marcus said, genuine distress starting to colour his voice. Aknot was silent for a moment then he drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. He squared his shoulders and raised his chin. “We let him drink. We let him get good and drunk until he’s too far gone to fight us then we go up there and take away his booze, his wand and we put him to bed. We stun him if we have to. Rhisiart be damned. I’m not letting Abe do anything stupid tonight and that includes drinking himself to death or at least into a ward at St Mungos.” Marcus nodded slowly. “Good plan.” He was about to say something else when the door of the pub opened and he looked over with hope that it might be a certain errant vampire they both knew. Severus Snape was oblivious to the significance of the day when he made the decision to go to the Hog's Head. Wednesday had come and gone and although the instinct to check on his Mum at night was not completely gone, it was beginning to fade. In its place was a gnawing sense of worry that nearly a week had passed since he had spoken with the Dark Lord. That meant that he had a week to pull together something useful enough to keep him his position. If he were going to do this, he could not risk losing his carefully gained status. He'd had too many distractions recently, but those were gone now. His mother, Astra, the only one left was Lily, and she served only to remind him of why he was making the choices he was making now. But he realised he needed help. The decision had been made, but he had not talked to Aberforth about it. And Severus did not know how to go about proceeding along the path. He only knew that he needed to stay where he was for the short term, and get himself higher up in the long term, for right now the only information he could offer was likely to go straight back to him as the leak. So, he found himself in Hogsmeade at the end of what had been a long, but less exhausting week than the one previous for all he had worked more hours this week than the week before. Abe had said to drop by, and Severus was doing so. He pushed open the door to the Hogshead and entered. If he were surprised to not see Aberforth at the bar, his face didn't show it, he simply walked towards it and nodded at the two men behind it. He'd met them before at least, although he was curious where Abe was hiding. He had not mentioned being gone. "Evening," he said to the two of them. He hesitated and added. "Is Aberforth around?" Marcus' shoulders slumped when he realised that the man who'd walked in was entirely the wrong size and shape to be Rhisiart then his eyebrows went up when the new arrival walked into better light and he realised it was the young man they'd met not too long ago - Severus Snape. He glanced over at Aknot who was also watching the young man with interest. They waited until Severus came up to to the bar and nodded greetings to him. At his question they exchanged glances again and Marcus could see that something was brewing in Aknot's mind. "He's upstairs," the half-goblin said gruffly. His eyes narrowed as he assessed Severus then he looked over at Marcus. "He might do a lot better than either of us." Marcus drew in a short breath. "Or he could get more strips flayed off him than both of us combined." "I don't think so," Aknot replied, still giving Severus that assessing look. "He doesn't know after all and Abe knows that. His questions will be coming from genuine ignorance and not a half-arsed attempt to understand like ours." He arched an eyebrow. "Worth a try, isn't it? Merlin knows we don't want the old bugger hurting himself or doing anything stupid." He paused and gave Marcus a significant look. "Or doing something he might regret tomorrow." Marcus hesitated and also gave Severus a long, assessing look. "Aknot might be right. Abe's upstairs. Straight up and it's the door half-hidden on the right. Just knock. He'll answer... for now anyway." Severus eyed them both with trepidation. From the way they were both talking, it sounded a bit as if he were being sent into a war zone. He looked back and forth between them, and his eyebrows knitted together with a bit of concern. Listening to them, he frowned as Marcus gave him the information about where Abe was. "Should I cast a shield charm following that knock?" He asked wryly. Aknot snorted and Marcus chuckled ruefully. "No, you'll be fine. It sounds like he's gotten past the angry part of today." He hesitated, wondering how much warning he should give the young man. The decision was eventually taken out of his hands by Aknot. "Look, just... be patient with him, will you?" the half-goblin said gruffly though there was worry in his eyes. "Today's not a good day for him. Never has been. Just don't take anything he says too personally. He doesn't really mean it." Severus eyed them both, but he nodded. Whatever was going on, he would ask Abe himself, and get the answer from him. And in the end, Severus was pretty certain that Aberforth had dealt with some rather interesting topics of conversation from him in the past few weeks, surely Severus could handle whatever Abe could throw at him. He stepped away from the bar and followed the directions that Marcus had given him. He climbed the stairs slowly, reached the top and turned to the right, easily finding the door. Outside of it, he stopped wondering what was going on. His mind had turned from his initial reason for coming towards what was going on with his new made friend. Then again, he'd had enough bad days in his life, and Aberforth had been there for a few of his worst ones recently - ironically enough - so perhaps it was time to return the favour. He took a breath, raised his hand, and knocking hard on the door three times he waited. It was possible Abe wouldn't respond immediately, at least it certainly sounded from Marcus and Aknot that it was a possibility. Aberforth was still slumped in his armchair, bottle in hand and staring at the portrait of his sister, when the knock came at the door. A good half the alcohol in the bottle was gone and he had the very beginnings of a nice alcoholic haze growing. He didn't really want to get up but the sluggish thought rose in his mind that it could be Rhisiart. The vampire hadn't missed this day in years, decades even. Maybe this day had been enough to haul him out of whatever damn hole he'd crawled into. He plunked the bottle heavily on the table and smiled sadly at his sister who was back doing delighted pirouettes. He lurched to his feet and swayed for a moment then he shook his head and staggered over to the door. He blinked when he opened it and didn't find the face he was expecting. "Severus," he said after a moment's thought. He frowned as he tried to remember why Severus might be here then he remembered that the young man had wanted to speak to him. "Not sure this is a good night." It then occurred to him that for Severus to be here at his door, Marcus and/or Aknot must have told him where it was. Which meant they were meddling. "They sent you up here, didn't they?" Severus was a little taken back by Aberforth's appearance, but he didn't show it on his face. The older wizard looked terrible. He'd obviously been drinking crying, and from the look of the glass on the floor behind him, it looked like he'd spent some time blowing things up as well, or at least throwing them. It was distinctly awkward, but Severus' heart went out to Abe regardless. Something had happened, or was happening, and Marcus and Aknot had known what it was, and had thought he could help. It was possible they had a bit too much faith in his potential abilities, but Severus was going to give it a shot. "Those happen," he said simply, moving himself forward so that it would be difficult for Abe to shut the door in his face. "As I recall, you've been around when I've had a couple of them. And they might have. Although to be fair to them, I'm fairly determined when I get something in my head, and if they'd brushed me off, I would probably have made myself a nuisance and gotten it out of them anyway." He looked up at Abe's blood shot eyes, and tilted his head, concern clearly visible in his dark eyes. He kept his tone light as he asked, "Are you going to invite me in, or am I going to have to get all Gryffindor about it? I can do a good blasting charm, but you said once your goat didn't like them." Aberforth frowned slightly as he tried to follow Severus' speech. It sounded like those two reprobates had sent the young man up and he wasn't sure if he should be annoyed at them or perhaps just a little grateful. He blinked and snorted at the idea of Severus being Gryffindorish then finally shrugged and shambled back to his arm chair, leaving Severus to enter and shut the door on his own. "Should probably go away," he said as he slumped down into his chair, reaching for the bottle again as his eyes went unerringly back to Ariana's portrait. She was watching him fondly and she smiled and started dancing again when she realised that he was watching her. "Not good company tonight." He waved the bottle towards the others under the table. "Have a drink anyway. Glasses are..." He paused and thought for a moment then waved the bottle towards the credenza. "...in the cupboard on the left over there. I'll keep this bottle, I think." He was aware that he sounded just a little drunk but he didn't much care because he was just a little drunk. Maybe if he got a lot drunk, he'd fall over and collapse on the floor when he finally worked himself up enough to go and belt Albus again. That was probably a better idea than actually belting Albus, even if he suspected his brother would let him do it, if that was what he felt he needed to do. Albus the martyr. He snorted derisively at that thought as he took a long drink from his bottle. Severus took a moment to watch him before he stepped through the door and closed it behind him. "I've never much been good at doing what I should," Severus said. He supposed he did sometimes, when he had to, but how often had he not? Like continuing to talk to Lily, court Astra... why was it always bloody women? He shook his head from his own thoughts and considered the entire situation. His father had been drunk often enough that drunk people weren't something that bothered Severus - at least not at this point in his life. No, at this point in his life, he had a wand, and he was good with that wand, so if needed he could easily out duel someone who was utterly inebriated. However, he realised also why the two downstairs had wanted someone to come upstairs and sit with Aberforth. From the look of the stash, the man had just started for the evening. "And anyway, I'm often horrible company, so if you'll tolerate me, I'll tolerate you." He went for a glass, but he didn't actually pour himself any of the alcohol yet, instead he pulled up a chair, and sat down across from Abe. His eyes went back to the other man's face and he was struck again at just how exhausted the man looked - his face drawn, his eyes red, and Severus felt sympathetic. He'd been there, after all, and probably not that long ago either. "Who is the picture of?" Severus asked finally. He was pretty certain that the girl in the portrait so prominently placed in the room had something to do with Aberforth's mood. It was as good a place to start as any. Aberforth snorted and slouched down further in his chair, stretching out his legs and looking to all intents and purposes as though he was a hairsbreadth from sliding off the chair and just falling into a puddle on the floor. It was a look he'd perfected over the years. Drinking was infinitely better if you were comfortable and he'd never seen the point in being prim and proper about getting ragingly drunk. "Tol-er-ate," he said slowly, drawing the word out. His intensely blue eyes suddenly fixed on Severus. "Usually do more than tolerate you. Like you. Good man. Not many of them around." His gaze went back to the portrait when Severus mentioned it and he stared silently at it for a long time. For a while it looked like he wasn't going to asnwer then he said abruptly, "M'sister. Ariana. Was painted from a picture of her when she was fourteen." He paused again and looked at her, a single tear rolling down his cheek to disappear into his beard. "She died. So young. I loved her so much. Lost Dad, lost Mum then lost Ariana. Was left with just Albus. Poor exchange." He leaned forward and picked up the portrait, staring down at the now impishly grinning young girl. Ariana rarely spoke but that had never bothered him. He hesitated for a moment then held the portrait out to Severus. "She was so pretty. She was lucky enough not to inherit this damn nose. Looks more like Mum. We look more like Dad." Severus was both bewildered and a little amused. If he'd seen this side of Aberforth Dumbledore when he was fifteen, he would not have been intimidated by the man at all. Severus didn't smile though, it seemed as if it would be inappropriate considering the circumstances. Equally unnerving as Abe's posture were his words as he fixed his eyes on Severus. Sev swallowed, and looked back at the other man. He was drunk, obviously, but Severus couldn't help but hope that Abe was right about him being a good man. He tried, at any rate. But this evening was clearly going to be different than he had envisioned. He reached forward, and took the portrait from Abe, looking down at the girl. This was what he'd been talking about the other day when he said he'd been there three times before and Severus looked up at Abe. "She's pretty," he said with a smile. And she was - she didn't look much like either of her brothers, Severus thought, although perhaps it was because both of them were practically ancient, and she was fourteen. It was hard to think of Aberforth at fourteen or fifteen, and harder still to see him with a sister so young. He asked softly: "Younger or older?" Mostly Severus was glad he hadn't had siblings. His life had been hard enough without inflicting it on someone else as well, but he could see Aberforth had loved her a lot, and right now, he almost wished there were someone else he could turn to who really knew - who had been there through all of it. Aberforth took another long drink from the bottle he held then he smiled softly. "Younger. She was a year young than me. Albus is three years older than me. I was the middle child. Never cared. Ariana was beautiful from the day she was born. Loved her to bits. And she loved me. At least I think so. It was always hard to tell. I was always her favourite and she always behaved for me so I guess she loved me." He sighed and took another drink, holding the bottle up to examine how much he had left. "She was attacked when she was six. She'd performed some kind of accidental magic and some Muggle boys saw her. They attacked her. She was so badly hurt but Mum knew a fair bit of healing so she was able to take care of her. But when Ariana recovered a bit, we all knew something had gone terribly wrong. She wasn't right in the head and she'd lost control of her magic. She'd get angry and things would go flying around the room. She'd get sad and it would start rainign inside. Mum and Dad knew they couldn't take her to St Mungos. They'd lock her up forever." He tilted his head back and stared at the ceiling, the bottle dangling precariously from his fingers. "She was only six. Mum and Dad didn't want her whole life to be the inside of a locked St Mungos ward." He let out a shuddering sigh. "Dad was furious of course. His beautiful daughter so terribly damaged. He went after them... those boys. He caught them and hexed them terribly. They deserved it but he couldn't tell the Ministry that when they arrested him. They'd take Ariana away and lock her up. He'd told us not to say a word and Mum reinforced that. So they took Dad away and locked him up in Azkaban as a Mugglehater. He died there." He looked over at Severus again. "He didn't, you know. Hate Muggles. Not sure he had much of an opinion on them either way. Liked some, didn't like others, just like with everyone else. But he would rather have been locked up as a Mugglehater than let Ariana be carted off to St Mungos and locked away forever. I was always so proud of him for defending Ariana like that but part of me hated him for leaving us like that." He looked back up at the ceiling again, tapping the bottle against the side of his chair. "She'd always settle for me. Always calm down and start smiling again. Even more than for Mum." He'd always been so proud of that, especially when his Mum had given him a grateful smile and a hug and a bit of praise. He'd felt like a million galleons every time, like he could take on the world and win everything. "I'd have done anything for her." Which 'her' he was talking about was entirly up for debate, though both could easily have fit in there and be true. Severus had heard bits of this story, he realised. Over their opportunities to converse together, he'd gotten bits and pieces, but not the entire story. And as he sat there listening to Aberforth, Severus grew up a bit. Their childhoods had been different, so different, and yet, each had their own amount of pain, and it was rather the first time Severus had considered someone else's childhood having pain. So many of the people he'd grown up with had been so privileged, and that privilege was all he'd ever seen looking in from the outside. As Abe finished, Severus sat in silence for a moment. "I know what that's like," he said softly. He'd tried so hard with his Mum, and he wasn't certain it had worked out, in the end, but he'd tried, and he'd have done anything for her - anything to make her happy. His eyes fell on the bottle and he wondered if Aberforth would manage to hold onto it. "What happened to her?" Severus asked. "Ariana, I mean." Aberforth nodded slightly. It had been easy to tell at the funeral how much Severus had loved his mother. His own mother's funeral had been just as difficult. They hadn't been able to bring Ariana with them because they'd know that there would be friends of his parents there. And it had been so difficult to communicate to Ariana that their Mum was dead and not coming back. Aberforth had refused to try and explain how their Mum had died. He wasn't sure Ariana would understand in the first place and if she had, he didn't want to even think about how Ariana would have reacted to knowing she'd killed her. He closed his eyes, pain washing over her face. "She died. She was only fourteen. Mum died when Albus and I were both off at Hogwarts. She wasn't getting any younger and we think that Ariana had a fit that she just couldn't handle. It was just an accident." His face abruptly hardened, anger and bitterness taking the place of the sorrow. "Put paid to Albus' plans. He and that twit Elphias Doge had grand plans to go touring Europe, seeing the wizarding sights, meeting some of the wizards and witches Albus had been communicating with. But Mum was dead and that made Albus the head of the family. He didn't like it much. Bit of a come down for him, going from being the teacher's pet and the model student, the one with all the bright and grand prospects in front of him to looking after his scruffy brother and mad sister." He took a drink and snorted. "He tried. I'll give him that. He tried. For a while at least. Then he arrived." The bitterness and anger returned, along with a crawling rage that coiled and twisted in his stomach. "Gellert Grindelwald. Albus, the fecking great ponce, was infatuated. The two of them would go off and talk and plan, all these grand plans about how they were going to take over the wizarding world and put Muggles in their place." He gave Severus a sharp, owlish look. "But you didn't know that, did you? Albus Dumbledore, wizard supremist. Admittedly most of the blood purity rubbish came from Gellert but Albus was too infatuated to cross him about it. Thought Gellert hung the sun, the moon and the stars. Twit." He took another drink and seemed surprised that the bottle was empty. He eyed it for a moment then snorted and just let it dangle from his fingers. "It started to get closer to the start of school. I didn't want to go back. I wanted to stay with Ariana. I didn't trust the great berk to look after her properly. He'd never really paid much attention to her. Too busy with his books and his letters and being the best and brightest to worry about his family. Albus refused though. Insisted I had to go back to school." He fell silent for a moment. "I stewed on it for a while. Then I heard them talking about their grand plans and I got infuriated. Charged in and confronted them. Told Albus he couldn't go swanning off. Ariana couldn't cope with it and how was he going to do anything, taking her with him. Then Gellert chipped in, sneered at me, treated me like an idiot and said if their plans worked there'd be no need to hide Ariana." He shook his head. "It just exploded from there. We were all throwing around spells and hexes. Then Gellert used the Cruciatus on me and Albus turned on him. Ariana must have gotten upset by the sound and light and maybe she was trying to protect me, I don't know. She came running in and threw herself into the middle of us." Tears welled in his eyes and the bottle slipped out of his fingers and thumped onto the floor. "I don't know whose spell hit her. Could have been any of us. She was dead. Gellert scarpered, of course. Turns out he had a track record of that in Europe. Left just me and Albus." He abruptly shifted in his chair, his movements clumsy from the drink. He almost folded himself up, scrubbing his face with his hands as he hunched over. "Don't know which one of us killed her but one of us did." He snorted bitterly. "Albus said at her funeral that I was to return to Hogwarts and he was going to Europe to work with Nicholas Flamel. I was furious. She was gone and so was he. Off on his grand trip. I punched him. I was so angry. He'd got what he wanted, hadn't he? His freedom to do what he wanted. No inconvenient sister hanging around. The inconvenient brother off at school for most of the year." He leaned forward and snatched the remaining bottle under the table. He knew he was being unfair. He'd seen Albus' face when they'd realised that Ariana was dead. His grief and guilt had been as unfeigned as Aberforth's. But he couldn't help himself. If Albus had just thought before inviting that twat Gellert to stay, thought about his family first for once instead of what he wanted, maybe none of it would have happened. Severus was quiet as he listened to Abe talk. He couldn't help but wonder why Albus hadn't acted like head of the family with his father away to begin with. It would have been the position Severus would have assumed under those circumstances. It was, as Corbina has pointed out not so many days ago, the proper thing for the eldest son to care for the mother, and by extension younger siblings. With such a responsibility, it would not have changed greatly with their mothers death, but Aberforth wasn't done, and the next part of his story did surprise Severus. Albus Dumbledore and Gellert Grindelwald? But Aberforth was completely serious, and Severus was struck with just how much he was learning about the two Dumbledores, and just how much he was being entrusted with. As the final part of the story came around, Sev could almost see his own guilt with his father and by extension his mother echoed in Aberforth's face. Tears practically stinging his own eyes, Severus stood up quietly and reached for the bottle Aberforth had grabbed from underneath the table. However much Abe had already drunk, Sev was certain it was enough to at least dull the pain, and he didn't particularly want the man to die on his watch. Without knowing how much he'd drunk before, Severus had no idea of knowing how much it was safe for him to drink, and it was clear he was already drunk. Abe didn't resist him taking it, and Severus put the bottle out of the way. Then turning back, he put a hand on Aberforth's shoulder. Severus didn't know what to say to him so he simply stood there for a minute, his hand resting there. Finally he stepped back towards his chair, sitting down cautiously, his eyes still on Abe. "I don't think I can say much here that's comforting," he said finally. "I mean, the truth is, when something like that - it doesn't matter whether the spell was yours or if it were someone else's. Even if you knew it was someone else's, it'd probably still be yours," Severus let out a breath. He'd never know if it was his father's murder that had caused his mother to deteriorate so quickly, but it didn't matter. Even if his mother had told him it wasn't the case, he knew he'd still have blamed himself. "Cause that's how those things work when it's someone you'd do anything for - anything to keep safe - if you fail it doesn't matter whose fault it was, you still blame yourself." There were a lot of things that Abe had told Severus, that were suddenly making a lot more sense to him. "I'm sorry," he added, running his own hand over his face to dry his own eyes. Why did life get so messed up? he wondered. "I know it doesn't bring her back, and I know I can't know what it's like for you, but I'm sorry." Aberforth grumbled under his breath when Severus took the bottle away from him but didn't argue. Rhisiart had done the same thing to him too many times to count so it was hardly worth getting angry at Severus. There was a small, still sensible part of his brain that was actually rather relieved that Severus had the gumption to do that. Drinking himself into a stupor might kill the pain but he probably wouldn't want to hear the lectures from the healers once they'd pumped his stomach and he'd sobered up. He suspected the phrase 'a man your age' might feature quite a bit in many of the sentences in that lecture. When Severus placed his hand on his shoulder, he closed his eyes against the rush of gratitude that flowed through him, mkaing his chest tighten. Such a simple action but from a man who kept to himself like Severus, it meant a great deal. He listened to Severus speak, his head still bowed with his hair faling forwards and obscuring his face. The young man's words rang true. Even if he knew it was Gellert's or Albus' spell that had killed Ariana, he'd still blame himself. Because he was supposed to protect her and instead he'd let himself get caught up in a fight simply because he'd been angry. If he'd just held his temper and not reacted to Gellert's provocation, maybe things would have been different. Maybe. He'd spent so many years saying that. Maybe, maybe, maybe. None of it ever brought Ariana back. He raised his head and shoved his hair out of his face. His eyes were wet with tears but none of them had slipped down his face. "Shouldn't have burdened you with this. Albus would be unhappy that I've told you. Never wants anyone to know the family secrets. Or that he was an unmitigated prat when he was younger." He snorted and a tiny smile curved one side of his lips and a glimmer of humour entered his eyes. "Least you've stopped me from going up there and punching him in the nose again. Or the booze has. Either way, I think if I tried now, I'd either fall on my nose or you'd hex me before I got halfway across the room. Or both." Severus couldn't help a bit of a smirk when Abe talked about going and hitting Albus Dumbledore in the nose. "I don't know," he said wryly. "I think I might actually pay money to see you punch Professor Dumbledore in the nose. Of course, I'd like to see you do it when sober, you'll have better chances that way, so yeah, try it right now and I probably will hex you." He shrugged and then sobered slightly. He wasn't usually comfortable with other people's tears. To be honest, Severus wasn't always comfortable with his own, but he was grateful that Aberforth was just crying, and not trying to hex him. From the way Marcus and Aknot had talked, he'd been afraid of the latter moreso than the former. And Marcus and Aknot hadn't seemed particularly surprised, just worried, which made Severus think this was not the first time that this sort of scenario had happened. But if Marcus and Aknot didn't usually deal with it, who did? "We've all got skeletons in our closets," Severus said, dismissing the elder Dumbledore's protests. "It doesn't make him any worse a man, although, no offense, I think he still might be a prat," Severus added. It did change how he saw Albus Dumbledore perhaps, but Severus had made too many bollocksed choices in his life to judge someone else theirs. And in retrospect it made Aberforth Dumbledore make a lot more sense to him. He admired the man, and in some ways, perhaps more now that he'd seen a few of his flaws. "Besides, you've got a boatload of my secrets to lug around with you," Severus said wearily. "And you'll probably have a few more before the weekend is up, so..." He looked over at Abe, pushing a strand of dark hair behind his ear. "Is it rude if I drink in front of you when you're already drunk?" He looked at the empty glass in his hand and eyed the bottle he'd wrestled away from Aberforth earlier in the evening. Aberforth snorted and actually managed a chuckle. "Enjoyed the first time. Got him good. He wasn't expecting it at all. Got told off by all and sundry for causing a scene at the funeral but Albus never said a word. Probably knew he deserved it, the twat." The crunching sound of Albus' nose breaking had sounded so sweet and even though his hand had hurt for days afterwards, just the action of striking that blow had taken away some of the morass of emotions that had been swirling around him at the time. He suspected Albus would have let him do a lot more than just punch him but once he'd done that, everything else had just seemed useless. After all, he didn't know whether it was Albus who struck the killing blow anymore than he knew that it was him. Deep in his heart, he hoped it had been Gellert. That bastard deserved to have another death laid at his feet. |