EPILOGUE – A REQUIEM FOR THREE PARTS
NINETEEN YEARS AFTER THE FINAL BATTLE…
Harry Potter looked across his desk in the Auror Department at the Ministry at the chair on the other side.
Draco Malfoy was sitting there, in Ron's chair.
Harry didn't feel about Draco they way he had when they were kids, they'd both long since awakened to the fact that they both got fucked in the war, despite who was on what side, or who won.
Still, he wasn't Malfoy's best mate, or anything like that, so it was both annoying and depressing to see him in Ron's chair while Ron was out on sick leave.
Again.
They were working on a case together, that of a schoolmate of theirs, Dennis Creevey. Harry and Ron had investigated him for a series of grisly murders. First, he'd tortured his victims with the Cruciatus Curse, then killed them with the Death Curse.
Not a nice way to go.
Not a nice way to go, at all.
Harry and Ron had investigated Dennis, and it was up to Malfoy to prosecute. But, the Office of Magical Law had decided to let Dennis temporarily plead out on an insanity rap, and he'd be off to St. Mungo's until such time as he was sane enough to stand trial.
Dennis' victims had all been witches and wizards who were brothers or sisters of people who'd fought in the last battle. On both sides; those kinds of distinctions didn't matter to Dennis.
He had never quite gotten over Colin's death, and for whatever reason, after sitting on himself for nearly twenty years and brooding over his brother, he just went around the bend.
Unfortunately, dredging up all those bad old memories sent Ron around the bend, too. He was fundamentally okay, Ron was, but every once in awhile he went round the twist, too, and had to spend a couple of weeks or so at St. Mungo's, himself.
Ron was a good auror and a good man, and after what he'd been through, nobody really faulted him for it.
Around the Department, they just called it Ron's "Sick leave."
"Do you want me to sit in a different chair, Potter?" Malfoy asked,
"Naaah. Bum a fag, Malfoy?"
"Here. I suppose I should go see Weasley."
"I'm going tonight. I'll send him your regards."
"So…will you be at the WAND meeting, later?"
Harry looked at Draco over his glasses.
He had his little sick leaves, too.
Harry was a recovered junkie and a functional alcoholic. He attended Wizards Against Narcotics and Drinking for his addictions to the powerful wizarding drug Purple Doom, heroin, and to the injectable mixture thereof, Dragon's Fire.
He'd started chasing the dragon about three months after the Final Battle, and it was a long, hard decade before Harry realised he had to quit. He'd been sober for nine years, except for a brief relapse about five years ago. Those were hard times. Ginny threatened to leave him for good. Since then, he'd attended WAND meetings three days a week, instead of one.
Except when Ron was at St. Mungo's.
Then, he spent the time with Ron.
"No. You can tell Our Undead Fuehrer that I'll be there on Saturday night."
Twenty years on, Snape, who had escaped death at the final battle via some anti-venom and blood replenishing potions that were among those the paranoid son of a bitch always carried with him, seemed largely unchanged by time and turmoil.
Pushing sixty, not so old for a wizard, he had gone a bit grey at the temples, but otherwise he was substantially the same man who had terrorised their childhoods at Hogwarts.
The wicked old screw had left his teaching post and gone into business for himself, making a mint selling his patented potions. He and his business partner, Hermione Grainger, owned a lab, a distribution centre and a shop in Diagon Alley, called The Serpent and Gryphon. They employed an army of SPEW- liberated house elves as workers who were sworn to secrecy about the potions manufactured by Snape-Grainger Industries, Co.
They lived a rather reclusive existence in a magical townhouse located between their factory/warehouse/lab and shop.
Ron lived there, as well.
Hermione and Ron had been married for about five years, and then they divorced, and she moved in with her partner at his townhouse. Then, about a year later, Ron moved in, too.
Hermione re-married him, and then she took Snape as her second husband and Ron accepted Snape as his brother by law
What went on behind closed doors during Ron and Hermione's first marriage, or Hermione's apprenticeship with old Snape, nobody really knew, but, just like Harry's drinking and Ron's temporary lapses of reasoning, because of the Great War, because they were War Heroes, nobody said anything.
Neither Harry, nor Ron, nor Hermione had any children.
Snape was also Harry's sponsor at WAND, a member since 1980, and chairman of the London chapter. If he didn't come to WAND meetings, Snape came to 12 Grimmauld Place to get him. He had the idea the old bastard wanted him to quit drinking, as well. Harry had periods where he drank less, but he didn't think he could face the world sober, like Ron did.
He'd end up spending a lot more time in the Happy Hut than Ron did.
He'd be there full time, like Dennis Creevey.
After work that day, Harry made his usual trip to the pub. Without Ron there, he drank more than he should have.
He drank his way through visiting hours at St. Mungo's, but that didn't stop him from stopping to get a fifth of Hell's Horntail firewhiskey on his way.
Only the best for Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived to Defeat Voldemort.
It was not an uncommon sight at St. Mungo's, Harry Potter showing up after hours drunk and raving, demanding to see Ron Weasley.
Ron and his sister, and Harry's guardian, were what kept the functional in the description of Harry as an alcoholic, without his best friend and partner and his wife's constant support, Harry went off the rails fairly quickly.
So when he showed up brandishing an empty fifth of firewhiskey with mud and grass stains all over his robe, they did what they usually did.
Wheeled a cot into Detective Weasley's room, sent a house elf to fix Detective Potter some dinner and left Harry stay overnight.
It was a welcome change for Ron. He didn't like being sick or being fussed over, and it gave him a chance to fuss over someone else instead.
"Oh no, Harry! Not again!" Ron cried.
He got up out of the chair he was sitting in, and helped Harry out of his soiled robe and into some comfy St. Mungo's PJ's.
A house elf showed up with food, coffee and a sober-up potion for Harry.
Harry called him Dobby.
Harry called all house elves Dobby when he was drunk.
The house elf didn't mind.
After he left, Ron got Harry to sit down and drink and eat.
"I went to see Sirius today. Then Tonks. And Lupin. It was just like old times. I had to tell Remus and Tonks how Teddy's doing at Hogwarts. When I get al'le drunker'n this, I'll go see Good ol' Dumbledore. So nice to see everybody, again."
Ron looked over at Harry's robes and his shoes, all covered with graveyard mud.
He buzzed the house elf to come back and get Harry's robes to take them to the laundry.
"That's good, Harry. I'm, erm, getting out tomorrow. I'll be back to work on Monday. The healers have adjusted my potions, and I'm feeling much better. Who knows, it might just be another year and a half before I have to come back here. Unless I need a vacation from Snape before that." Ron joked.
"Coming back to work on Monday?"
"Yeah. Just can't wait."
Ron was hoping Harry wasn't going to break down, but he did, putting his face in his hands and weeping.
Ron put his arms around his friend, and Harry cried on his shoulder.
"Don't say you wish you were dead, Harry. I hate it when you say that."
"I can't help it, Ron. I should have died with Voldemort. I never wanted to come back. I don't know why Dumbledore didn't let me go with him. To the next world, with my parents and my friends. He used me all my life and when it was over, he couldn't even let me die. He had to send me on to twenty years and counting, un-dead. I'm a ghost, Ron. I'm not really here." Harry sobbed.
"Well, I can't say I agree with you, Harry. Ginny and I and Hermione, we love you, and we need you. It's always better to be alive, than dead." Ron volunteered.
"I'm just gonna lie down. Maybe if I get some sleep." Harry said.
After Harry fell asleep, Ron went to the St. Mungo's owlery, to send an owl home to tell Hermione and Snape that Harry's train was going off the tracks.
Again.
Ron and Harry both hoped that Hermione would be the one to meet them at the door in the morning, and both their hearts sank a little when they saw Snape signing all the appropriate papers.
Snape was very civil to Ron.
After all, they were brothers by law, and they lived together, so they had to get along.
"Hermione and I will mix your new potions personally, Ron. I hope you're feeling better." He said, as they walked into the cloudy March day in wizarding London.
"You can get the house elves to do it, Severus." Ron suggested.
"Hermione wouldn't hear of it. Do you know she actually cleaned her bedroom in expectation of your coming home?"
"Did she? Blimey!"
Hermione was a rotten housekeeper. Snape's house elf, Treacher, and Ron's, Winky, an old friend of Dobby's, did most of the housework, and most of the time that was alright with Hermione. Sometimes, however, she got a Betty Crocker bug up her arse, and Snape and Ron had to endure a few days of burnt food, dirty dishes, and, if she did the laundry, mismatched underwear.
Snape and Harry walked home with Ron, and, smoothly, Snape saw him in and continued on his way.
"Let's go get some breakfast, Potter." He suggested.
Harry didn't know how he did it. Ron most likely went to find Hermione and immediately took her to her clean bedroom to shag the arse off her. And Snape didn't seem to care. Likewise, how could Ron sleep at night in his bedroom when he knew Hermione might be in Snape's?
Not that he had room to talk. He had been unfaithful to Ginny a million times over, until he'd gotten clean.
Harry waited until they were at the Leaky Cauldron to start on Snape's least favourite subject.
"So, Dad, how about we get the lecture over with."
"Potter, I am not your biological father, for the millionth time."
"Bullshit. I have a mirror. And a brain."
"Really? You should use both more often. You look awful, and you ought to be higher up in the Auror Department than detective."
"We're both tall."
"James was tall."
"We both have black hair."
"James had black hair."
"You wear contacts."
"Most people wear contacts or eyeglasses."
"You chased the dragon. I chased the dragon. You were a drunk. I…"
"Yes. You are a drunk."
"You've got a mean temper. I've got a mean temper."
"So do a lot of wizards and witches. And Muggles. Especially old soldiers. Everything you've said amounts to nothing."
"Oh yeah? Who tutored me so I could take my NEWT's? Severus Snape. Who helped me get into university? Severus Snape. Who did Ginny know to call when I was strung out, fucked-up, passed out or otherwise in a bad way? Severus Snape. Who talked me into the Auror academy when I really blew it? Severus Snape. Who got me into rehab? Severus Snape. Who's my sponsor at WAND? Severus Snape. Who nags me the most about my drinking, and my position at the ministry, and even the state of my robes? Severus Snape. Who did I live with from the time I was 17 pretty much until I was thirty? Severus Snape. Who did my mother trust with my life? Severus Snape. Who's my father, by law and magical bond? Severus Snape. Why would a Slytherin bastard like Severus Snape stick his neck out for anybody unless there was something in it for him? Something like preserving his son's life?"
"Potter, everyone who could possibly have looked after you in life was dead by the time you were seventeen. You didn't think so then, but you were still only a boy, and you needed someone to look after you. I loved your mother, she was my best friend, and I could do nothing to prevent her death. I owe Lily. I also owe you, as much as I hate to admit it, you got ride of Tom Riddle and made me a free man. And I looked out for you since you were ten years old; I was the only person to see you as anything more than a pawn in the chess match between Tom Riddle and Albus Dumbledore. Not because I'm your father, because I was one, too." Snape replied.
"I'm going to take this coffee cup, Snape, and I'm going to deliver it to my Muggle liason with MI5, and have her run DNA tests on it. Then we'll see."
"Why don't you put your money where your mouth is, Potter?" Snape suggested.
Harry had been threatening Snape with DNA tests for at least ten years.
After the war, Snape had petitioned the Ministry to become Harry's legal guardian, something the Dursleys did not contest, based on a letter Lily Potter wrote that was to be opened only after the death of Voldemort.
It asked that in the even something happened to her and James that, whenever it was safe to do so, that their son be put in the joint care of Sirius Black, and, surprisingly, Severus Snape, who she described as her oldest friend and as "the Wizarding World's secret champion."
The Ministry did as Lily wished, and Harry lived at first in a room in the dungeons with Snape, next door to his apprentice, Hermione Grainger. Harry spent the holidays at the Snape-Prince family home in Liverpool, and was surprised to find not only were Snape's infamous parents alive, they had sobered up, and lived in the home of Severus and Aphrodite Lovegood Prince, Snape's grandparents, all in the same big, draughty old Victorian house.
The Snape-Prince family treated Harry like one of their own, and Snape formally adopted Harry when Harry was 19.
When Snape left Hogwarts and he and Hermione started their business, Harry was just beginning to get a serious habit. They employed him as a potions lab technician, and he lived in the townhouse next to the factory with Snape. He left home, though, broke up with Ginny, and spent the next two or three years pissing his money away, ignoring his real friends and turning 12 Grimmauld Place into a flop for junkies.
When he bottomed out, Snape came to his rescue. He paid off Harry's debts, had the Black family manor cleaned and refurbished, and got Harry into rehab and WAND, and then the Auror Academy.
Until Harry was thirty, he lived with Ginny whom he managed to reconcile with, his adoptive father, Ron, and Hermione in the townhouse. Then, when he and Ginny got married, he moved to 12 Grimmauld Place, which was about twenty minutes walking distance of the townhouse.
But Snape wouldn't cop to it. And Harry wouldn't go through the analysis.
In the end, he supposed, he really didn't want to know.
After breakfast, Snape made sure his adopted son went straight to work, then he dropped in on his daughter-in-law at 12 Grimmauld Place and discovered Arthur Weasley was there, pet-sitting.
Ginny was out hunting for a new job. A lioness animagus who loved a good scrap, she had been peculiarly suited to wartime and had struggled ever since to find a lasting position in the peace-time economy.
Arthur and Severus were related by a complex network of magical and legal ties, since one of Arthur's sons was Snape's brother-by-law and his daughter was Snape's daughter-in-law through his adopted son by law and magical bond.
They preferred, however, to interact as friends.
Arthur was in a state of distress; Ginny had called him in the morning and asked him to pet-sit for Harry's owl, Albus, and her lion, Fred.
Arthur was glad to hear that Harry had spent the night with Ron in his hospital room, and that Ron had gotten safely home with his brother-by-law.
Arthur worried about Ginny, and her restlessness, but she liked to change jobs every now and then, she'd stopped getting into bar fights, well, stopped getting into bar fights much, and she was settled in and married to Harry. Also, Ron's mental state was much improved, the calmer waters of his thirties and the settling of his domestic affairs also seemed to bring him some peace.
Hermione worked too hard, but Hermione had always worked too hard.
Rather like her second husband, she was a rock; neither the years nor the tragedies of the past seemed to have changed her much.
Arthur was the most worried about Harry, and so was Snape, and he dominated their conversation.
"Perhaps if I had done more for the boy. Maybe Lily should have picked a better man to be his guardian."
"More? Like what? Daily blood transfusions? Poor Harry was in a wretched state after the Great War. And everyone wanted to celebrate the Boy Who Lived, but no one wanted to pick up the pieces of Harry Potter, who had lost his childhood, all of his family, and most of his friends, teachers, and mentors. No one but you. You put Harry back together with sweat and blood, Severus, your own sweat and blood. You supported him through horrors that I've seen natural parents disown their children for. They all suffered, but Harry suffered the most and that's probably why he's the most fragile. Not because of you."
"I did not teach him from a boy of ten or raise him from a lad of seventeen to be fragile, Arthur. He's not fragile. If he was fragile, he would have died in the ring with the dragon at the Triwzard Tournament before he ever faced Tom Riddle. No, Harry is crafty, and lazy and sneaky. He could quit drinking, if he wanted to, and he could quit feeling sorry for himself, but he fancies himself a Romantic, Byronic hero and he likes the attention he gets. He's trying to manoeuvre me into an untenable position and I won't do it, so he'd trying to punish me by wasting himself." Snape disagreed.
"He's not the only one. Ron tells me he's turned down two offers for promotion because the Ministry doesn't want to promote his partner. Oh, the Auror Department knows that Harry's one of the best they have. They just don't feel they can rely on him. Even with Ron's troubles, they have more faith in him than in Harry. I keep telling Ron if he took the promotion that would stir Harry to get himself together, but he won't do it. He thinks it would have the opposite effect." Arthur commented.
"No doubt about it, Arthur, they'll have to go together or stay where they are." Snape observed.
"Maybe we should have an Intervention."
Snape had been thinking the same thing, but he didn't want to put Harry through it. He didn't want to put himself through it, either. Or Ron. Or Hermione. She hadn't rested at all after her last "miscarriage." For a bosomy girl with wide hips who was healthy as a horse, she certainly seemed to be prone to miscarriages.
Five of them, since she was 20.
"I'll talk to Hermione and Ron. You talk to Ginny. I'll send you an owl when I know more." Snape said.
He got up, lit a cigarette and walked out into the street.
"Ron and I have some rights don't we? I suppose not. I'm no good with children, anyway. Perhaps I am dead, Lily, and this is Hell. And I'll never see you again." He muttered, as he walked home.
It was time to get back to work.