wolfiefics (wolfiefics) wrote in lupin_snape, @ 2011-11-30 22:33:00 |
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Current mood: | tired |
Entry tags: | fic: r, zmember: wolfiefics |
FIC: Blind Luck Part 3-4
TITLE: Blind Luck
AUTHOR: Wolfie
See first post for all the gritty details
PART THREE
Lucius watched Severus move about the room, one pale eyebrow arched in laconic amusement. His dark-haired friend was still shaky from Nagini’s venom and occasionally had spells of dizziness, yet the younger man’s inherent aversion to showing physical weakness persevered. It was a trait they shared and, he noted wryly to himself, it was somewhat irritating on occasion.
“You can stay here, you know,” he offered for the sixth time in three days.
The look he received in return was, at the very least, scornful. “I will not hide here like some criminal.”
“It’s not hiding if you’re doing it to keep out of Azkaban,” Lucius replied, his tone going flat as he mentioned the infamous wizarding prison he himself inhabited for almost a year.
“Potter won’t let them send me to Azkaban.” Severus’ tone was confident and certain.
“And why would you say that?” Though the question had a snide edge to it, Severus could tell Lucius was honestly curious for an answer.
Severus thought of a wild red-haired beauty whose son shared her eyes and, yes he grudgingly admitted, her spirit. “Because he’s a Gryffindor. Albus Dumbledore and Sirius Black are the exceptions to the stereotype of noble intentions and fair play so typical of the Gryffindor breed.” He shot a narrow-eyed look at his blond companion. “He talked them into pardoning you and your family, didn’t he?”
Lucius frowned but conceded the point. “Very well, but at least let me-“
Severus stopped the words with a brisk chop of his hand. “No. Keep out of the line of fire.”
“I was going to offer some gold until your account at Gringotts’ is accessible again.” Lucius’ tone was dry.
Severus paused in his packing, little though there was. “It’s the first thing I’ll do after I speak with Potter and Shacklebolt. If there’s a problem with the account, however, I’d appreciate the loan.”
Severus knew what it cost Lucius to offer the aid. It went against the Malfoy grain. Lucius, in turn, knew what it took for Severus to accept the help if needed. Showing such a weakness, even to a close friend, went against the Slytherin grain.
Lucius startled Severus a few nights earlier as, over an after-dinner firewhiskey in Lucius’ study, the older man confessed he suspected Severus was a spy for the Order of the Phoenix for some time. He further flabbergasted Severus by asking if it was indeed instigated by what happened to Lily Evans Potter. Severus confirmed Lucius’ suspicions and the two friends talked long into the night of things they never would have had the nerve to discuss before. The evening’s revelation solidified their friendship into something deeper, harder to define.
Perhaps, Severus conceded to himself, like they were brothers, a family.
Narcissa Malfoy’s faith in Severus long created a bond between Lucius’ wife and Severus, one that went beyond the Unbreakable Vow taken two years before. As far as the Malfoy matron was concerned, Severus was a Black and a Malfoy in every way but blood.
Lucius and Narcissa’s son Draco was another matter entirely. Draco spent the last two years resenting Severus for his family’s, specifically his father’s, fall from grace with their peers among the pure blood followers of the dark wizard Lord Voldemort. A confused young man, Draco now faced the facts that everything he was taught from birth, the things that supposedly mattered most, were revealed as bigotry and self-delusion. The young Malfoy’s sense of worth took a tumble. His mother and father now welcomed with open arms the person he felt safe in blaming.
As if conjured by Severus’ thoughts, Draco appeared in the doorway of Severus’ assigned room. His pale, pointed face was impassive, his blue-grey eyes lacking their usual spark of arrogance. “Father,” he said deferentially to the older man standing just inside the room, “may I speak with Professor Snape in private?”
The older man exchanged a look of wary curiosity with Severus, who gave a single slight nod of acquiescence. Lucius strolled out the door, pausing a moment beside his son as if to speak. Unable to voice what he wanted, Lucius disappeared from Severus’ view and his footsteps faded down the long hall.
Severus turned to face Draco squarely, one eyebrow hoisted expectantly. Draco stepped into the room and strolled to the window, staring out into the early spring afternoon.
“I wanted to apologize, Professor,” Draco said, his voice tight. Malfoys, as a rule, apologized for nothing.
“For what?” Severus kept his tone mild and lacking its usual sarcastic edge. He couldn’t tell Draco’s mood and prodding the boy too much might result in Severus having to hex the whelp in self-defense. It was considered bad manners for a guest to hex the heir apparent of his hosts.
“I thought you were a typical Slytherin.” Draco whirled around at the sound of Severus’ chuckle. “What?” he demanded defensively.
“I am a typical Slytherin,” Severus told him, still chuckling.
“But –“ Draco frowned. Severus waved him over to the chair by the window while he sat cross-legged on the bed to face the young man.
“Why do you think I am not a typical Slytherin?” Severus’ lips curved slightly at Draco’s deepening frown. “Let’s put this another way, shall we? What do you see as typical Slytherin traits?”
Draco considered the man who was once his Potions and Defense Against the Darks Arts professor, as well as his Headmaster while attending his seventh chaotic years at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. That Snape also served as his Head of House seemed to matter little to whatever ideas Draco had twirling through his mind.
Taking a deep breath the boy replied, “Ambition, cunning, deviousness, pure blood status, the need for connections not friends, selfishness, self-preservation, resourcefulness, ignoring the rules-” He stopped his litany when Severus raised a hand to stop him.
“Very well,” grunted Severus. “Let’s start with those. Cunning wit, deviousness, and resourcefulness I believe can be easily proven considering for the past 18 years or so I’ve been a double agent so ingenious that no one was wise to the fact.” He smirked at Draco. “Agreed?”
Draco grimaced but nodded.
“Let’s see,” Severus drawled. “Ambition. Yes, well, I have that in spades, only I learned to curb it usually, considering I was working for Albus Dumbledore. Ambition was all well and good to Dumbledore, but mostly he found it amusing to thwart. I learned quickly not to give the old coot any further ammunition to torment me with if I could help it.” He grinned briefly. "And sometimes I couldn't help it."
Draco muttered something Severus didn’t catch, but was certain was a negative comment regarding Albus Dumbledore and his motives.
“Selfishness and the need for connections other than friends are what got me into becoming a Death Eater to begin with. I was so certain that the girl I so wanted to impress would find my elevation of status appealing, I wound up driving her away. Yet I continued on my path, so blinded by my own needs and the certainty of being right. Is that not selfish? Putting my needs and desires above hers?”
Draco said nothing, merely watched Severus with unreadable eyes.
“Ignoring the rules.” Severus sighed. “Ah, yes, I’m very good at that. Recent examples include breaking promises I gave, taking chances that could have not only gotten myself but everyone else I swore to protect and serve beside killed –“
“Who?” interrupted Draco, his features becoming intense.
Severus hesitated a moment before confessing. “When I made the Unbreakable Vow with your mother to protect you, to help you with your task the year before, it was dangerous and foolish. Very Gryffindor in fact,” Severus added with a grimace. “And I did not tell Dumbledore, something that definitely got me in trouble when he found out, from Potter of all people. It was a grave risk, but one I felt I should take for the sake of your father, who is my friend, and his family, whom he could not protect at that time.”
“Hmm,” was Draco’s thoughtful response.
“Not to mention all the trouble I caused as a student at Hogwarts myself.” He coughed to cover a flush of embarrassment as Draco raised an inquiring eyebrow, demanding silently more detail on this interesting bit of information. Snape knew very well he sported the reputation as a taskmaster and a man who regarded ‘fun’ as anathema while he was a professor at Hogwarts. “What was the other one?”
“Pure blood,” whispered Draco, his gaze sliding away from Severus.
“Ah yes, pure blood. You do realize, Draco, that the Dark Lord himself was not a pure blood despite being descended from Salazar Slytherin?” Draco nodded, still not meeting Snape’s eyes. “That my maternal family line, the Princes, are easily as distinguished as the Malfoys or the Blacks but my father was as Muggle as Muggle can get?” Again Draco nodded. “How does it matter then?”
Draco blinked and gave an awkward shrug. “I don’t know,” he mumbled. “It’s confusing now.”
“Yes,” agreed Severus with a hefty sigh, standing up and grabbing his pack. “It will be for some time. Your family will not have it easy. It’s well known the Malfoys' stance on purebloods and your father has been named and seen as a follower of Lord Voldemort.” Severus placed his hand on Draco’s shoulder. The boy looked up at him, blue-grey eyes unblinkingly meeting black. “Chin up, have confidence in yourself, and remember that if you need to get away, if you need to rant and rave over the injustices of the world, don’t come to me. I’ll probably be too busy ranting myself to listen much.”
“So I can come over to see you and rant with you then?” Draco asked, the old familiar sparkle of arrogance lurking in the silvery depths of his eyes.
Severus chuckled. “Yes, you can.” He held out his hand and Draco shook it solemnly, rising from his chair to escort his former professor from his home.
“Oh, and Draco?”
“Yes, Professor?”
“Don’t call me ‘professor’ anymore. Severus will do.”
“Yes, Pro- Severus.”
Severus mentally sighed with relief. One more hurdle crossed and several more to go.
===
The meeting with Harry Potter went better than Severus expected. The dark-haired young man, for Severus in all honesty could not call him a boy any longer, listened to Severus’ prepared speech expanding on his role as a spy for Dumbledore and offering more information regarding the plans Lord Voldemort put into motion. Some of those plans already bore their poisoned fruit, while others still had not eventualized.
With Potter essentially convinced of his patriotism, for lack of a better word, it was time to visit the provisional Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt. The Order of the Phoenix member and respected Auror was, in Severus’ opinion, a good choice. Shacklebolt was a hardliner but known to be fair as well. His keen intelligence and cunning wits would help him navigate the political minefield of re-establishing the power base of the Ministry of Magic and sending minions forth to clean up the mess left behind by the puppet government put in place by Lord Voldemort.
Severus was not a creature of the political arena, unlike Lucius, but he knew and understood enough to wish Shacklebolt the best of luck and then get the hell out of the way. As he approached the de facto Minister’s office, his steps slowed. Harry Potter’s bright green eyes narrowed as he observed his former Potions Master’s hesitation.
“What’s wrong?” the young man asked, slightly perturbed. It was obvious he still had reservations but having viewed Severus’ memories the young man knew Severus was truthful with his tale of deceit and treachery against Lord Voldemort. There was something else, though, that held sway over the younger man’s thoughts regarding Severus’ role. Severus couldn’t figure out what it was but he instinctively knew it had something to do with that old meddler, Albus Dumbledore.
Severus thought about his answer for a few seconds before deciding to go with the truth. He’d usually been brutally honest with Potter in the past, almost cruelly so. He didn’t figure changing the strategy would get him anywhere now. “If this doesn’t work, I’m not going to Azkaban.”
Potter blinked once and very slowly cocked his head slightly to one side, much like his belated godfather. Severus gritted his teeth at the nuance. His hatred of Sirius Black had not diminished even with the idiot’s death by window dressing.
“And if I were to promise that you will walk out of that office a free man with no future in Azkaban as a result of anything to do with the war or Voldemort, would you believe me?” Green eyes stared boldly into black before the black slid away uncertainly.
“Yes, I suppose,” Severus answered grudgingly, noting the addendum of ‘the war or Voldemort’. That excluded anything outside that arena but Severus couldn’t think of anything in his life and actions that didn’t center around the war so he dismissed the phrasing.
“I have to ask,” Potter said with an unexpected grin, “why do you believe me? You’ve never done that before.”
Severus grimaced before waving a hand, indicating the younger man should precede him. “I believed you, usually. You’re a terrible liar. Obviously not a skill you inherited from your father and godfather. I just couldn’t be bothered to care.” At Potter’s questioning glance, he elaborated, “You’re a Gryffindor. For the most part, Gryffindors take honesty to the blunt extreme. There are exceptions to every rule, of course,” he added, noting Harry’s wry expression and knowing they were thinking of Peter Pettigrew and Albus Dumbledore. Dumbledore, after all, was a master in the art of subterfuge and deception.
After Harry’s perfunctory knock, the two of them entered Shacklebolt’s office. The young secretary stood flabbergasted as Harry greeted her by name, stated blithely they had an appointment with Kingsley, and that he and Severus Snape would just go on in. Severus noted with amusement that the young woman took one look at him and shrank back into her chair in an effort to hide. He vaguely recalled her as a talentless Ravenclaw when it came to Potions. Martha, Amortia, something like that. He gave her a haughty look, causing her to gasp in dismay at being noticed.
“Come.” Shacklebolt’s deep voice reverberated through the door at Harry’s brief knock. Harry threw open the door and sauntered in like he’d been there many times before. Hell, thought Severus, maybe he had.
“Kingsley, you’ll never guess what came wandering onto my front stoop.” Harry shook hands with Kingsley, who was staring at Severus.
“Snape.” Shacklebolt didn’t offer his hand and neither did Severus. It was immediately obvious they weren’t going to be friendly, merely polite and only that because of Harry. “Here to surrender?”
Severus snorted derisively and was poised to respond when he noted the warning look blazing in Potter’s eyes. It was a similar gleam to the one Lily used to get when she readied herself to lambaste Severus for some thoughtless comment of which she disapproved.
“No, he’s not going to surrender. He’s here to avoid a trial and I’ll tell you why.” Severus listened with interest as Harry began his story at the very beginning. Literally. Starting with Severus’ mother and her marriage to Muggle Tobias Snape and ending with Severus’ demise in the Shrieking Shack after handing over his memories to Harry. The young hero of the wizarding world covered in half an hour everything that Severus had done in his entire life that was noteworthy. For good or for ill, for selfish or noble reasons, it was made patently clear that Severus’ actions were to be respected and acknowledged. It was obvious Harry expected, if not outright demanded, Severus Snape’s immediate exoneration and proclamation as a war hero.
When Harry finally fell silent, Shacklebolt considered the young wizard for several long minutes. No one moved a muscle. Severus felt certain that if he so much as took in air, he’d throw up all over the interestingly patterned Persian carpet beneath his feet. Shacklebolt, he was certain, was not convinced.
He was wrong.
“Very well.” Shacklebolt nodded decisively and pulled from a small tray a sheet of fine parchment. He brought from his desk drawer a bottle of fine gold ink. With his quill, Interim Minster of Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt wrote out a pardon for one Severus Snape.
Severus stared at the piece of parchment for a long moment, then rolled it carefully and placed it within the scroll case Shacklebolt solemnly handed him. “I cannot guarantee you’ll have a friendly welcome, Snape,” Shacklebolt told him as they stood to shake hands, “but I appreciate what you’ve had to do. There’s always at least one person who gets the really short end of the stick in a war.”
“Three in this war,” muttered Potter.
Severus took the opportunity presented to him to ask, “And how is the amiable Mister Lupin?”
“Not so amiable considering,” mused Shacklebolt.
“He’s a bit,” Potter hesitated before finishing, “testy.”
Severus snorted. “I should say so.” The silence following that statement grew awkward and Severus excused himself, stating that he now needed to go to Gringotts and gain access to his accounts once more.
“Any trouble, let me know,” Shacklebolt told him in his deep, rumbling bass. Severus nodded and departed.
PART FOUR
Remus winced but managed to suppress the foul word that came to mind as he once again banged his shins into some object littering the floor. He waited for the smarting pain to subside before bending down to feel for the object and remove it from his path. This time it was some toy for his infant son, but prior incidents had been a chair, stray mop handle and something Remus still hadn’t identified.
Andromeda was not taking to heart the lecture on keeping the walk areas clear for Remus to traverse.
Either that or she was attempting to kill him and make it look like an accident. Honestly, at this point, Remus wouldn’t put it passed her.
Andromeda squawked over the long cane Remus needed for navigation, insisting that he’d wave it around and break something. However, Remus was beginning to think that she wanted to make him uncomfortable enough to leave. She never approved of Dora Tonks’ infatuation with a werewolf and was less thrilled that now she had to take care of her daughter’s widower and son.
Remus wasn’t overly enamored with the idea himself. The depression he sank into was hard to claw his way out of. Every time something happened to bring him a little joy, someone would find a way to bring him lower than before.
Bill and Fleur visited twice a week, each time taking him out of the house for a trip to the local village, to visit other friends, or just to walk in the nearby pasture. Remus cherished those moments for sometimes Andromeda grudgingly let them take Teddy, giving Remus a bit of time without her worrying he might accidentally hurt the baby. It was also good just to get out.
A flustered Fleur arrived a bit later than the usual noon pick up time on a gloomy Thursday. Remus could tell by her breathing that something happened, something unexpected and not wholly welcome. She spoke briefly to Andromeda and cooed over Teddy a moment before heading straight for Remus’ chair in the sitting room.
“What’s happened?” Remus asked immediately.
Fleur seemed to stop, startled by Remus’ observation. “Qu’est ce que?”
“You’re upset, Fleur,” Remus said with little patience. “What’s happened?”
“Oh!” Fleur attempted her usual silvery laugh but it fell flat. “Ill news, that is all. Undoubtedly ‘arry will tell us all about it when we get to Grimmauld Place.” She leaned in to confide, “’e ‘as only told us that we will be shocked.” Remus could feel her shrug in typical Gallic fashion. “It must ill news, n’est c’est pas?”
Remus’ face fell. “I don’t know if I’m up to traversing Grimmauld Place, Fleur. That place was dangerous to walk around with sight.”
Fleur’s laugh this time was true. “Non, non, ‘e ‘as been working on cleaning up ze place. ‘im and Ginny ‘ave been directing Kreacher,” Remus could hear her lip curl at the mention of the crotchety house elf, “decide what iz Black family treasure and worth keeping and what is just junk and should be put in ze rubbish bin. You would not recognize the place, Remus, I assure you! C’est magnifique! It iz turning into a beautiful ‘ome!”
Remus frowned. “Where’s Bill?” Something still niggled at him.
“Still at work, hélas,” she spat. “’e works too ‘ard, I tell ‘im, but does ‘e listen? Non!”
Remus lifted an eyebrow at the vehemence of her tone. He stood up, snatching up his short cane, the one he used after transformations. He held a hand out to Fleur, who wrapped her arm through his as if he were escorting her, not the other way around. Fleur knew how to salvage a man’s pride, Remus noted ruefully.
“Why is he working too hard?”
Remus could almost feel the blush radiating from Fleur’s skin. “We are going to ‘ave a baby,” she whispered to him, “but you cannot mentioned it to anyone yet. We ‘ave not told ‘is or my family. Only you know now.”
Remus felt a smile bloom from within him and he gave her a hug. “Congratulations, Fleur. I’m so happy for you both.”
He could visualize her preening even as she answered, “Bon, I’m glad you are pleased. We were afraid to tell you.”
“Why?” asked Remus, puzzled. He paused before the door to let her go first, as a gentleman and for practicality’s sake. “It’s the kind of news everyone wants to hear after so much heartbreak and horror.”
“Hmm. I can see that.” Fleur’s voice rose in volume, speaking to Andromeda who, from the sounds of things, had taken Teddy upstairs for a nap. “We are leaving now, Andromeda! Do you ‘ave plans this evening or can we keep him late?”
“Whatever,” came Andromeda’s muffled voice followed by an irate bellow from Remus’ son. Teddy obviously had no desire to take a nap. Remus smothered a chuckle and felt Fleur do the same.
“I don’t have a curfew, Fleur,” Remus told her. Fleur snorted. Feeling upbeat with the news of Fleur pregnancy and despite whatever ill news would come from Harry, Remus let Fleur tow him into the fireplace to Floo to Number 12 Grimmauld Place, London.
===
Remus sat his tea cup down on the table in front of him with exquisite care. The amiable chat was at a lull and everyone was feeling rather full from the delicious dinner Kreacher prepared. Remus had to admit, whatever happened while Harry, Ron, and Hermione stayed at Grimmauld Place the year before was for the better. Kreacher was a completely different house elf.
“Okay, Fleur said there was news, ill news,” Remus said into the comfortable silence. “What is it?” He turned to face where he knew Harry was sitting. He heard Harry’s teacup clatter back to it’s saucer and the young man shifted in his chair as if squirming.
“It will be in the papers tomorrow, so I thought I would tell everyone before it did. He asked me to, said you deserved to hear the truth.” Remus was certain that everyone else’s brow was as furrowed as his own.
“What are you talking about, Harry?” asked George Weasley, the only living twin of the set that started Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes and older brother to Ron. Remus conjured in his mind the image of George’s freckled face and carroty hair, much like the rest of the Weasley family. Once a boisterous young man, George became more somber and subdued following the death of his twin, Fred, during the Second Battle of Hogwarts.
Harry took a deep breath while shooting at look at Remus. Snape specifically asked Harry to watch Remus’ reaction. Harry was puzzled by the request but reluctantly agreed. His gaze traveled from Remus to the others, Ron and Hermione excluded, who knew most of Snape’s past with Lily Evans. They did not, however, know this bit of news and he was afraid he would give himself away if he looked at either of them.
“Severus Snape is alive and Kingsley Shacklebolt and I just authorized his exoneration.” He made a grimace. “Well, actually, all I did was tell what I knew of things and Kingsley did the rest.”
The silence, to coin a phrase, was deafening. Ron’s face turned pink, then red and then an alarming shade of something Harry privately termed “Ron Explosion Imminent”. Hermione merely narrowed her brown eyes at Harry, as if attempting to discern what maggot got into his head. Ginny, being her usual unflappable self, watched everyone else with amusement.
It was Remus’ reaction, however, that Harry was startled to view. The werewolf went pale as milk and for a moment Harry was afraid Remus was going to topple over in a faint. Slowly though pink replaced the white as Remus’ temper, rare to emerge but riding high to the surface of late, sparked.
“He’s alive.” Remus’ tone was flat and Harry couldn’t stop a small shiver that raced up his spine. “The son of a bitch is alive and your exonerated him?” Remus wasn’t angry, he was furious. “He killed Dumbledore! You watched him do it, Harry!”
Harry coughed and exchanged a meaningful glance with Hermione. Though she and Ron knew of Snape’s true role in the war only Hermione and Harry seemed to have found some sort of forgiveness for the man. Ron was still completely unreasonable on the subject of Severus Snape.
“Er, Remus, there’s more to this than what I saw and reported to all. Things I learned, actually, in the middle of the final battle,” Harry began but he was interrupted.
Remus shot to his feet and began to pace in his agitation. Everyone was thankful that the clutter that once inhabited the room was removed otherwise Remus would have tripped and broken his neck in the first two steps.
“I don’t care what his excuse is,” Remus spat. “He’s a murderer and a traitor. Throw his ass in Azkaban, toss him bound to a boulder to the bottom of the lake, hex him until he’s one huge boil, feed him to an Acromantula, I don’t care, but for Merlin’s sake, Harry, don’t fete the man!”
“I see,” rumbled a voice from the doorway and Harry suppressed a groan. Damn the man, couldn’t he use tact? Did he have tact? “So the fact that I was actually a double agent for the Order is completely irrelevant? That I killed Dumbledore not only on his orders but before his cursed hand could kill him more slowly and painfully? Oh yes, and the coup de grace is,” Snape’s sneer was lethal, “that I too should be dead for the girl I have been in love with since I was nine years old is obviously meaningless in a roomful of the foolhardy folk of Gryffindor?”
Remus spun around on his heel to where the voice came from, losing his balance slightly. Strong hands immediately righted him, a brief fiery touch that sent Remus’ senses on high alert. Sensing the other man’s presence nearby, Remus launched himself at Severus, intending to throttle the man.
Severus reacted instinctively. Though he was a first-class dueler with a wand, he grew up the skinny victim of much bullying in a working class town that prized brawn over brains. He learned to scrap with the best of them and much of his reflexes remained. He sidestepped Remus’ attack but managed to restrain himself from delivering a blow as the blind man fell beside him.
To Severus’ surprise however, Remus may have been down but he wasn’t out. Remus hit the floor with an ‘oof’ but he too had enough fighting skill to swipe his leg out and topple Snape to the ground next to him. When he heard the other body thud to the floor, Remus rolled over and onto Snape, his fingers digging into the other man’s shoulders. He shook him, taking satisfaction in hearing Snape’s head hit the floor a couple of times before someone pulled him off even as he groped for Snape’s throat.
Panting and struggling, Remus growled in frustrated anger as Ginny and Hermione exclaimed over Snape while Harry yelled at Remus. There was a loud WHAM! Everyone went silent.
“I think we’ve had enough histrionics for one lifetime,” chuckled Bill’s baritone close enough to Remus and behind him to make Remus realize it was Bill who pulled him off the man on the floor.
“Ever the voice of reason,” sneered Snape. He held his head a moment, trying to get the swimming sensation to stop. “I hope you feel better, Lupin.”
“No,” snapped Remus, wrenching himself from whoever held him. “I’d feel better if-“
“Yes, yes, if I were in Azkaban, crushed by a boulder at the bottom of a lake, etcetera ad nauseum. That won’t fix anything, however, so you may as well stop whining like Potter’s godfather and get on with living.” Remus heard leather creak and guessed rightly that Snape sat down.
“I’d appreciate it, Snape,” sighed Harry, “if you would refrain from defaming my godfather. He’s dead, the war’s over and all it does is piss me off.”
“That would be the point, Potter, but if you insist, I defer to my host’s wishes.”
Remus snorted in disbelief. “That’ll be a first.”
“Please, Remus,” pleaded Harry, sounding weary. “Will you just hear him out? I got everyone together so he’ll only have to tell it once.”
“Not counting that charming reporter,” chided Snape softly.
“She doesn’t count,” countered Harry. “You owe the Order this, Snape.”
“Indeed. Shall I start from the beginning?” The others murmured their agreement and Remus was left to listen, to his displeasure. Snape suddenly became the focus of all that was wrong in his world and he was unhappy to let the man loose upon society. Snape hated James, Sirius, Remus, sneered at Tonks, tormented Harry, killed Dumbledore and was in general a foul individual.
But as Remus listened to Snape’s tale, his demeanor reluctantly began to thaw. Relying on his hearing now more than his vision, Remus picked up nuances in Snape’s speech, the regret, the desire, the hope, the sorrow, the frustration, the horror, the fear, every emotion that Snape felt was relayed in his story, resounding in his voice. Snape had truly adored Lily Evans, despising James not for any skills or abilities but because Snape understood that Lily would eventually wind up with James. The other man’s fear of discovery, of being tortured to death, of being forced to kill and maim others were indeed horrible to Snape and the stuff of nightmares. His regret at being the hand that brought about Albus’ death, whether to save another’s life or no, was genuine. Snape’s satisfaction at being one of the victors in a war of bigoted brutality was authentic and heartfelt.
“Thus it was from Lucius that I learned everything that transpired after my ‘demise’,” Snape finished. “I recuperated as best I could and then sallied forth to attempt to gain pardon and my life back. Though,” he mused almost as an afterthought, “I’ve been someone else for so long, I’m not certain who I really am anymore.”
The noises of a London evening drifted into the now silent room once Snape finished speaking. Everyone seemed to be absorbing the story and the consequences Snape paid for one youthful mistake, albeit a very large one.
“So,” mused Ron, staring into his tea cup, the liquid having long since grown cold, “what are you going to do now?”
Snape raised an eyebrow at the inquiry. “I don’t know, Mr. Weasley. I managed to get my accounts unfrozen. As you can imagine, the goblins were not thrilled with losing a potential cache of gold. I am considering selling my childhood home, as it has no memories attached to it that are of any comfort. I have no desire to continue my former vocations, teaching or spying, so I am at loose ends, I suppose.”
“You have a large cache of gold?” Harry asked, startled. “I didn’t realize teaching paid that well.”
Snape grinned at the youth. “It doesn’t, but when you don’t spend anything it accumulates. Plus a Muggle cousin plays in the stock market for fun and as a vocation, so I gave him a set amount to invest on my behalf and as I earned returns off the stocks, I converted them back into galleons.” He looked smugly satisfied. “I have quite the little nest egg, I assure you. I will not need to live on charity.”
“So you ‘ave Muggle family?” Fleur asked, waving her wand to charm the teapot to reheat the remaining tea. She reheated Ron and Remus’ cup while she was at it. He felt the warmth spread through his chilled hands.
“Yes, a few on my father’s side. I have several cousins that I was once close too, besides the stock trader. He and I have similar temperaments so we got along best as children.” Snape frowned at the assembly. “I told you this tragic tale of woe and misery not for your sympathy but for your understanding. I don’t ask you to stand up for me if, or rather when, the verbal or even physical attacks begin. And they will. There will be people who don’t care the reasons or excuses for my behavior. They will see me, and the Malfoys, as persons they can aim their anger and hatred at for what the Death Eaters have done.”
Bill’s voice was dry when he responded. “You don’t ask it of us, but you know we will, being ‘foolhardy folk of Gryffindor’ and all.”
The room laughed, excluding Remus and Snape. “No,” Snape replied, “I’m actually asking you not too.” The laughter stopped. Everyone stared at him incredulously, but Snape noted that Remus merely scowled.
“I don’t understand,” Hermione said. “You tell us this story and knowing what you sacrificed for Harry to defeat Voldemort, you don’t want us to defend you when you’re attacked by Wizarding society for it?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying, Miss Granger.” Severus heaved a huge sigh and sat back in his chair, steepling his fingers in a very Dumbledore-like fashion. Remus, of course, didn’t see this but he heard the creak of the cushions and felt the atmosphere relax. “I don’t expect you to understand but I do expect you to let me fight my own battles. All of you have bigger fish to fry in rebuilding everything without having to worry about a few sorry individuals.”
Remus felt his skin tingle and knew that Snape was looking at him, referring to both of them.
“Er,” Harry said, flummoxed on how to respond to the statement. From the stunned silence, Remus gathered no one knew quite what to say.
“So what do you want from us specifically then?” Hermione as usual cut through the long speak to get to the heart of the matter.
Snape hesitated then sighed. “I would like…” He paused once more, though whether unable to voice his need or not sure how to explain it, Remus couldn’t tell. “I thought you deserved to know, especially you three.” Remus assumed he made some gesture to Harry, Ron and Hermione, for really, of who else could he be speaking? “All of the Order deserves to know the truth, the whole of it. None of you are prone to huge exaggerations and are honest enough to correct any misconceptions or untruthful dissemination.”
“True,” agreed Bill. Remus turned his head to his right where Bill’s voice came. “Very well, you have mine and Fleur’s cooperation and understanding. And our thanks.” There was rustling of movement that Remus couldn’t decipher but it was cleared up what it likely was by Bill’s next words. “Everyone present is invited to dinner at the Burrow this Sunday, you as well Pro-um, Mr. Snape. It is not only insisted upon but practically required. Remus, Harry said he’d take you home tonight, so we’ll see you Sunday?”
Remus held out his hand and Bill took it for a shake. “Certainly. I look forward to your mother’s cooking, as always.”
Further good byes were exchanged and Bill and Fleur took their leave. Ron and Hermione followed them, both of them warming slightly to their former Potions Master. Ginny took her leave right after Ron and Hermione, still being a minor and under her parents’ curfew rules. Left alone with Snape and Harry, Remus felt targeted somehow. Something else was going on and it involved the Order’s werewolf.
There was a slight popping noise that informed Remus that Kreacher the house elf entered. “Would Master like more tea?” the crotchety old elf croaked.
“How old are you now, Potter?” asked Snape abruptly.
“Er, 18, almost 19,” replied Harry, taken aback.
“Perhaps the three of us could indulge in something a bit stronger than tea?” Snape’s smooth baritone was almost sly.
Remus couldn’t help the grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Harry, there’s a bottle of Ogden’s in the kitchen, unless Kreacher disposed of it?”
Harry’s voice was amused. “Kreacher?”
“Kreacher knows right where it is, Master.” The old elf’s bones creaked and popped, telling Remus he probably attempted a subservient bow. “Shall I bring the bottle and three glasses?”
“Yes, Kreacher,” agreed Harry with an amiable mien, “that would be fabulous.”
“While we’re waiting on Kreacher’s return, Lupin, I have a proposal I want you to consider.”
Remus straightened up in his seat and turned his face in the direction of Snape’s voice. “Oh?” he asked warily.
“Ah, thank you, Kreacher!” gabbled Harry. Remus frowned at the sound of Harry’s sudden nervousness.
There was a pause in serious conversation as full tumblers of fire whiskey were passed around and the first sips taken. Remus felt the fire of the drink burn down his esophagus and into his stomach, warming him. Slowly he began to relax until he realized that was Snape’s intention. He immediately tensed, alert to any tricks Snape might try.
“This proposal?” Remus prompted.
He heard Snape take a deep breath. “I want you to move in with me. You and your son.”