A/N: This is the backstory to my AU Lyria/Snape fic. Someone demanded to
know how they wound up together (even in my own twisted little mind, that
was crazy) and hence, this was written. Enjoy! And Harry Potter isn't
mine yet. Maybe next fic?
This one's entirely from Snape's point of view, so no crazy switch of point of view. I felt a need to justify the cold, harsh former Death Eater falling in love. (Hey, at least Lyria's not a sap! She's a tough type! Hehe...)
The idea of Snape owning a raven originates with someone else - J.L. Matthews, I believe.
I hated these sorts of things. I've never been a socialite, though at least I had the excuse of my father's recent death to cover for my distraction. Play along. Listen. Report back to Dumbledore.
Tonight, however, I tried to avoid all conversation and just listen. Everyone excused it, of course, which made things much easier for me.
"It's curious that he hasn't made any sort of appearance, Lucius," Macnair was telling the host of this idiotic Halloween celebration.
I hate parties.
"The Dark Lord is busy this evening," Malfoy smiled maliciously. "He's off to the Potters."
"The Potters? But rumor has it they've used the Fidelius Charm to hide themselves."
"Their Secret Keeper is a bit less trustworthy than they thought," Malfoy replied. The grin was still on his face.
Shit.
Time to leave and get to Dumbledore before they were dead.
I excused myself - had to visit Mother, after all, her first holiday without my father-and not a single one of them questioned. I apparated immediately to the school (just off the grounds, of course) and ran in a completely undignified manner to Dumbledore's office. "Headmaster!"
"Lily and James already dead, Severus." He said quietly. "We're trying to let their friends know, but we've been unable to contact anyone but Lyria Strider." He paused. "I've sent Hagrid to get Harry. We'll need to bring him to his relatives.
"The child?"
"He lived. Voldemort has vanished."
I noticed that Dumbledore hadn't said he'd died. He knew, of course, all the Dark Lord's steps toward attaining immortality; I had told him of them myself. "The child is alive? How?"
"Lily sacrificed herself for him." Dumbledore said simply. There was a pause. "Severus, will you go check on Lyria?"
"Strider?" I wrinkled my nose distastefully. We weren't exactly fond of each other. "Why me?"
"Hagrid's out, Minerva's out, and I need to leave the staff with the students. I think you two might do each other some good."
I wanted to say no. I wanted very badly to flat out refuse to go. If the Dark Lord was truly... well, out of the way, he no longer had any right to order me around.
I tried, really I did, but I simply couldn't. I owed him my freedom and most likely my life. Visiting even that insufferable woman seemed a foolish thing to fuss over. "I'll go."
"Thank you."
We both left the office and walked off the grounds. He went to wherever Hagrid was taking Potter's little brat, and I apparated to the landing outside Strider's door.
I knocked tentatively. No response. I knocked again, a bit louder. Still nothing. I sighed, exasperated. The crazy snot had probably drunk herself to sleep. Well, best check and at least be sure she's still breathing... I opened the door. She hadn't locked it behind her.
Lyria Strider was sitting on the floor in the middle of the living room, dressed in her Auror robes and crying her eyes out with an empty bottle of scotch on the floor next to her.
Oh good Lord. Maybe I ought to have put up a fuss. I'd rather face angry Death Eaters to crying women any day. "Strider?"
She jumped. "What the hell are you doing here?" She slurred at me.
"Dumbledore sent me. Are you... are you alright?"
"Huh? Oh, fine... need another drink, 's all..." She wobbled to her feet.
"No, no, I think you've had quite enough for the evening. I may not like you, but I don't think I hate you enough to let you die of alcohol poisoning either." I told her, helping her steady herself. "Tell me you have a decent cauldron and basic potions supplies around?"
She gestured toward a closet.
I got her seated on the sofa - still sobbing - and quickly brewed something to get her sober. "Drink it."
She complied and shook the alcohol off as if it were a blanket. "I suppose I should thank you for that."
"You won't in the morning. It doesn't get rid of the hangover you're going to have. A bottle of scotch, Strider?"
She began to sob again. "He... he killed them... James and Lily... Peter... my *sister*....."
"Cassi?"
She merely nodded. "My... my fiancé killed half our friends!!"
Only Gryffindors. "What about the other half? Why aren't Lupin and Greenleaf with you?"
"She's not in England, she went to visit her family as soon as she heard," Lyria managed, still crying.
"And Lupin?"
"I don't know."
I had dealt with enough suffering myself to know she wasn't to be left alone. Not in her present state... I added one last thing to the still- simmering cauldron which changed the potion entirely. "Here, you'll want another dose of this to finish clearing your head."
She took it unquestioningly, and I noted that it would have been a fine time to poison her if I'd wished. She downed the potion and immediately fell asleep.
Knowing she'd be that way until well into tomorrow afternoon, I lifted her as she was and dumped her on her bed before leaving. I'd done more than my duty for the night.
It was two days later when two owls arrived in the morning. I snatched the letters and shooed them away - the raven's not terribly fond of owls - and proceeded to read.
The first came from Dumbledore. "Dear Severus, With the retirement of Professor Prewett we are in need of a new Potions Master for next term. I was wondering if you were interested. Please let me know soon, as if you aren't I'll need to do a bit of searching."
A teacher. Me? And Dumbledore hadn't mentioned that Prewett had been head of Slytherin... I'd have to think about that one.
The second letter came from Lyria Strider. "Just wanted to thank you for showing up the other night. You let me rant to someone besides the mirror and helped me preserve the rest of the scotch for another night. Also, you need to spend time outside, because you're rather overly pale. Just in case you didn't already know. And you're teaching me to make that sleeping potion sometime."
I called Corvus (the raven) over to me and hastily wrote out a reply. "You'd do well not to drink all the scotch at once. And you ought to eat regularly, you look anorexic. As for the potion, back of the book we used seventh year. Take out the cup of armadillo bile and you can use it for sobering yourself up next time you get the urge to drink every bit of alcohol in your flat."
Then I replied to Dumbledore that I'd consider the position before going about my normal business.
I was not expecting a week later to get another letter from Strider. "I'll have you know I eat at least twice daily. Usually three times, but sometimes I'm a bit busy and miss that midday meal. Thanks for the potion directions; I've had to use both pretty regularly. On a side note, what are you doing now that we've graduated?"
It took me a very long time before I decided whether or not to reply. She was clearly in need of a friend, and I didn't really have any desire to be her Replacement Remus Lupin. On the other hand, it might be nice to have someone to talk to... she was a Gryffindor, but Strider was sensible enough. Usually.
I replied a few days later. "Don't use the sleeping potion daily, it's addictive. Don't use the scotch daily either. And you can't afford to be missing meals. I haven't decided for certain what I'm doing yet, though Dumbledore's offered me a place on the teaching staff at the school. How does the Auror's life suit you?"
I found myself actually looking forward to hearing from her. At first, this alarmed me, but then I figured out precisely what was going on. My current existence was a solitary one, and it was nice to have someone to talk to, no matter that she was a Gryffindor and an Auror and an obstinate fool. Corvus wasn't the best company, and she was another person who I could talk to. That was all. Nothing more.
The reply was longer than some of our notes had been. "Thanks for the advice on the sleeping potion. I've replaced it with the scotch, my new midday meal. The Auror's life is rather dull, comparatively. It's become mopping up work. Not terribly exciting. As for the teaching position, you're definitely talented enough at potions, though I don't know how you'd deal with children constantly. It'd be a learning experience, anyway, and you could surprise the entire wizarding world and be good at it. I'm going to assume that'd mean you'd be head of Slytherin too. That would most definitely be a good thing for them-and probably you, too. Go on and take it if you're toying with the idea. I'm in the process of moving, so you may wish to wait a while before you write again. And tell your raven to leave my owl alone the next time he brings a letter."
"Corvus, I thought you had manners," I told the bird. He merely swooped off without a word, as if he didn't wish to humble himself to speak with me if I was associating with Gryffindors. I wrote to Dumbledore this time, accepting the position. It was... strange, to not immediately reply to her letter. I was getting used to her rather left-handed compliments and sharp wit. And it was easier to be civil with her when I wasn't looking at that insufferable smirk.
It turned out I met her face to face before she'd even finished moving.
I had needed a trip to Hogsmeade badly, so I'd finally decided to brave the early spring crowds. I was leaving Dervish and Banges when I ran - quite literally - into a certain Auror.
As she was a good head shorter than me and rather petite, she fell to the ground. "Care to watch where you're going?" she snapped, then looked up to see who she'd run into. "Oh. It's you."
"Yes, it's me," I confirmed, giving her a hand up. "And you were the one running along the street with your head down."
"It's windy. I don't want dust and such blowing into my face."
"You've got a hood," I pointed out.
She glared. "You're a lot more pleasant to deal with over parchment and ink, you know that?"
"So are you. But as we're both here and we haven't talked in a while, why don't we both get out of the wind and go have a drink?"
She looked as surprised as I felt. What the hell had possessed me to say that?!? And what the hell was I going to talk to her about over a drink if she agreed?
She hesitated a moment - perhaps thinking about the same things I had - before she replied. "I think that's a pretty good idea."
We walked down to the Three Broomsticks. I suppose we looked a curious pair, and I was certain the rumors would fly. It didn't bother me, though; I knew she would put them down as fast as I would. Within a few moments, we were sitting at a table in a corner.
There was a slightly awkward silence. "Did you decide on that teaching position yet?" Strider asked, sipping at her drink.
I could have kissed her for breaking the almost tangible silence. If I were fond of kissing snobbish Gryffindors. "Yes, I'm going to take it. Professor Prewett will bring his old lesson notes and such to me at the end of the term, and I'll write up my own plans over the summer holidays."
"You're probably the youngest to ever be on staff."
"Most likely. But it was kind of Dumbledore to think of me for it, and I do owe him a great deal."
She looked genuinely interested. "There's more to you than you care to admit. Forgive me for being nosy, and I certainly can't make you answer, but why exactly do you owe him so much?"
"As you said, you can't make me answer." I replied. "It remains to be seen how long I'll stay."
"You'll be there a while." She said this with absolute certainty. "You might not be the most well-liked teacher there - in fact, I doubt you will be - but you do have plenty to teach."
"Potions is my talent."
"Not about potions, though you've certainly got that gift. About life. The sort of thing they can't learn from a book... if you're willing to teach that."
"I didn't realize you were a philosopher," I snapped.
"I'm not. But I'm a bit more observant than you care to give me credit for," she said off-handedly. "I suppose you'll be a Head of House too?"
"Yes."
"Hopefully you'll have better luck winning the cup as a teacher than as a student," she said, that insufferable smirk planted firmly on her face.
"I see you haven't grown up any," I said coolly.
"I see you haven't lightened up any," she countered. "It'd do you some good, you know."
"It'd do you some good to stop drinking, but that doesn't mean you're going to."
"Fair enough. While we're on the topic of things that would do us some good, you'd have a lot more friends if you didn't get so damned defensive."
"Friends didn't seem to do you much good."
She grinned. "I suppose the next thing out of your mouth will be that friends are for the lesser sort. Gryffindors and muggle-borns and the other dregs of the wizarding world, right?"
"At least you've finally admitted it." The verbal sparring was actually rather enjoyable, and Strider was a worthy opponent.
She merely laughed.
Strider, despite the length of time I'd known her, was a complete and total mystery to me. I quickly reviewed what I knew of her in my head. The fourth of six children from a family as old as mine, she'd seen her oldest brother die when she was sixteen. A bit of a cynic, with a talent for Potions that had kept most of the Gryffindors afloat, but her real gift was in Defense Against the Dark Arts. She had wanted to be an Auror for as long as I had known her - she'd probably been born with the goal. Despite the cynicism and sarcasm, she was loyal almost to a fault and - at least I judged from her relationship with Black - too trusting. A tomboy, always (she could get just plain violent sometimes), but still very pretty...
Where the hell had *that* come from?!?
I banished that idea back to wherever I'd gotten it from. By now, we'd both finished our drinks. "We'll have to do this again."
"I agree. You're surprisingly good company when you aren't being an obnoxious git."
We parted ways, but I couldn't help but think back to the conversation over the next few days.
About a week later, the grayish owl I'd come to recognize as hers arrived in the early morning. "I've finally finished moving and settled in, and I had a chance to write. I'll have you know I haven't had a drop of scotch since our rather impromptu trip to the Three Broomsticks, though that's more likely because I haven't any in the house than out of any reforms induced by a certain obnoxious git, so don't flatter yourself. Just wondering if you've started making lesson plans and listing modes of punishment yet, and if you have, may I suggest you speak to Filch. I'm sure he's got plenty of ideas for student torture."
I couldn't help but laugh as I wrote out a reply. "I'm not vindictive enough to hang students from the ceiling by their thumbs, unless of course they're Gryffindors. In that case, perhaps I should talk to Filch... in any case, glad to hear you've settled in and haven't drunk yourself to death yet." Then I paused. How to phrase this? And more to the point, did I even want to ask it?
Yes, I did. I wasn't entirely sure why, but I did want to spend more time with Lyria Strider. Maybe it was the genuine interest, maybe it was her cleverness and wit, or maybe it was just a pretty face, but I valued her company. "I was wondering if you were doing anything this weekend, and if not if you'd like to meet up for drinks again." That would suffice. Short, to the point, and not implying that I had any interest in her as anything beyond a friend.
We met Saturday afternoon. It was, sadly, the last Hogsmeade weekend for the students at the school, and so the village was insanely crowded. Lyria, however, was able to secure the same corner table as last time, and a good sneer or two parted crowds of teenagers easily.
"You've been practicing your intimidation techniques, I see," she commented as I returned to the table.
"A useful talent to have. It's nice to see that you have a wardrobe outside of your Auror's robes."
"I'm still not convinced you own anything that isn't black."
"I don't."
That earned me an exasperated sigh. "You're morbid sometimes, you know that? I'm taking you shopping."
"You're masochistic sometimes, you know that? No you aren't."
"Fine then... not this time," she conceded.
"Keep up the threats and there won't *be* a next time," I warned.
"Promises, promises."
We both laughed at that before Lyria continued. "You know my Auror partner had the unmitigated gall to ask me if I was seeing you."
"Excellent word choice. You're starting to sound like me. Why, is he interested?"
We discussed her partner and her Auror work for a while before she yet again brought up the subject of dress. "It's June, you know."
"Apostle of the Obvious, Lyria," I replied. Then I realized I'd called her by her first name... and worse, I'd actually liked how it sounded.
"Well then, Severus," she'd picked up on it and followed suit, "Whyever are you wearing long sleeved black robes with a collar up to your chin?"
"Because I wish to."
"Now you're being difficult on me."
"I'm good at that."
"Yes, yes you are," Lyria sighed. "Alright, you win. I won't bother you over it this time. Been following Quidditch?"
"Not since England lost to Portugal last week. That match was pathetic."
Talk continued over another round of drinks before we parted again, this time deciding to meet again the next week.
"The weekly therapy sessions," she laughed as she apparated away to her home.
I returned to my home as well, musing that she really wasn't too far off.
We continued like this until mid-July.
I came to look forward to talking to Lyria. She was understanding when I needed to rant, and had quite a few good suggestions regarding my lesson plans. More to the point, we could be brutally honest with each other without anyone offending the other. If she arrived looking like shit because she hadn't slept, I told her so. And likewise, she had no qualms about telling me it looked like I hadn't eaten in about a week and forcing me to put down my plan books.
I found, much to my surprise, that I could help her as well, sometimes simply by letting her worry about someone else's problems. If she looked depressed, I made her talk. If she was worried about something, I listened to her rant and then either advised her or just told her she was being stupid. And there was something reassuring to us both about the consistency of our weekly meetings.
One day, Professor Prewett-who had rather been my mentor while I was at school-came to visit and see how my plans were coming along. He almost immediately noticed Lyria's neat writing and notes she'd made when we'd gone over my plans.
"Looks like you've had some help, Severus," he commented. "And from the writing... Miss Strider?"
"Yes. We've become rather good friends." I muttered.
"I've heard. I've also heard rumors that you're a bit closer than good friends." Prewett said in his usual unemotional manner.
"No. We're not. Just looking after each other a bit and such."
"And that's acceptable to you."
"Why wouldn't it be?"
"I've come across you two once or twice down at the Three Broomsticks. You've developed a... certain fondness for her, have you not?"
Damn. He would know... "I suppose I have, sir."
"You might ask her to dinner." Prewett said.
"You mean..."
"I mean date her, Snape. Good Lord, you're a bright enough youngster to figure out what I mean!"
"She's a Gryffindor, sir," I said, as if that explained everything.
"Does that really matter out here in the real world? You're not a student anymore, Snape. Step out of the safety box and wake up."
I wanted to let him know how far out of the box I'd already stepped. I had been a Death Eater; I had been a spy. I'd endangered my life while he sat around and taught sniveling brats to brew potions. I opened my mouth to tell him just what he could do with his advice-
And realized he was right.
We got down to business for about an hour and I realized I'd be late to meet Lyria if I didn't hurry. I left for the Three Broomsticks, still dwelling on his words... "I mean date her, Snape! Step out of the safety box and wake up."
"You're distracted," Lyria said. It wasn't a question.
"As observant as usual."
"What's the matter with you this time?" She asked.
I was silent, and she became concerned.
"Would you please answer the question already, Sev?"
"First, never, ever call me that again. Ever. And I mean it," I warned. "I talked with Prewett a little bit this morning."
"Well that'd be enough to drive anyone half mad, but you always seemed fond of him. What happened?"
His words returned. 'You've developed... a certain fondness for her, have you not?' "Nothing really. Just distracted, I suppose. Thinking."
"I thought I warned you about that," Lyria replied.
I shot her a sardonic glare. "Thank you so much for your never ending support, Lyria. You aren't making it easy for me over here."
"I enjoy making things difficult. And I have no idea what you're prattling about, which means there's no way I could help you out even if I wanted to."
I sighed and then decided to just get it over with instead of dragging things out slowly and painfully. "Do you have plans this evening?"
"Yes, but I don't think my scotch will mind if I cancel. Why?"
"Would you like to go to dinner?"
"Why, Severus Snape, are you asking me on a date?"
"I suppose so."
She smiled a bit. "I'd love to, but my scotch gets jealous if I'm out too late."
The way she teased alleviated my nervousness. "Well you may tell it I promise not to keep you out too long."
I arranged to meet her at her home that evening and we separated.
I noticed almost immediately that she knew how to dress.
She'd pulled her hair up, but it was more elaborate than practical, in a style that never would have worked when she was on duty. She was in blue - of course - but a light shade that complimented the blue-gray eyes instead of her usual dark Auror robes.
"Good evening... why Lyria, you look like a woman." I told her with a slight grin.
"And you'll be pleased to know that you don't," Lyria replied, returning the grin. "Good evening yourself."
Dinner was, despite all the things it could have turned into, fun. Neither of us really noticed the stares and whispers of... well, everyone. (I was practiced at ignoring stares, and Lyria followed my example and didn't deign to pay attention to them.) Conversation was on the usual topics, but lacked the sharpness we often used with each other.
As much as Lyria could be sharp and cynical, she was also quite a lady when she wished to be. It was rather a privilege to see beyond the sharp Auror.
After dinner, we apparated to a spot a short distance from her home and walked the rest of the way.
She turned to face me. "Goodnight, then."
Without a word, I kissed her softly and apparated away before she could say anything.
The bad part of kissing her and running away was that I had to deal with it later anyway. It also made it very difficult to sleep, because I was left wondering if she'd have kissed back or slapped me across the face had I waited.
Not sleeping, however, gave me plenty of time to think. I wasn't sure when I'd started to consider her more than a friend, or quite what had made me start thinking of her that way. Reflecting, I had to admit that I was in love with her. There was no other way I could describe how I felt for her.
I, a former Death Eater and the new Head of Slytherin House, had fallen for a cynical Gryffindor Auror over a weekly drink. How pathetic.
I half-expected her owl to arrive the next morning with a note (perhaps even a Howler, the woman was quick-tempered). I did not expect, however, the knock at the door.
I knew without answering it that it was her, and that there was a powerful chance I was about to be kicked in the head.
Cautiously, I opened the door.
She kissed me.
When we finally broke apart, I tried to compose myself while Lyria watched me with those blue-gray eyes behind the silver-rimmed glasses. "Would you please stop staring?"
"You're not talking. And I took in the decor in about thirty seconds." She replied.
"You didn't come here to pick up decorating tips. And I don't *think* you came here to snog."
"No, that wasn't quite what I had in mind," she said with a grin. Then she grew serious. "I think we need to talk... about what just happened, and about what happened last night."
"What happened last night: I was a gentleman and kissed you at the door. What just happened: You tried to stick your tongue down my throat."
"You know what I mean," she said. "You're many things, but no one's ever accused you of being stupid."
"Right. Have a seat. Want a drink?"
"No, it's still a little early." She said, flopping onto the sofa.
I shook my head. "Have you got a death wish?"
"Give me a couple years," Lyria replied. There was an awkward pause. "Severus, where is this going?"
"I haven't planned that far ahead yet."
"Where do you want it to go?"
That threw me off. "I... I'm not sure." I paused. "What about you?"
"Would you tell me I was crazy if I said I think I'm falling for you?"
It amazed me how one sentence reassured me. She had the same feelings... and was suffering from the same doubts. "No... I wouldn't say you were crazy."
She looked up at me. "What would you say, then?"
I found myself wondering how this had happened... what I'd done to deserve it. I quickly decided I didn't... and then realized she didn't know. "I'd say I love you... and you need to know what you're getting into."
"I'm pretty sure I can handle it," she said, a grin crossing her face, but I did not smile back. "Severus?"
I sat down next to her. "Did you wonder why Dumbledore sent me to check on you on Halloween?"
"I was too drunk to wonder at the time, and I haven't really thought about it. Why?"
"I..." I had no idea how to tell her. Her reaction could determine everything I'd ever become. "After we graduated, I... was contacted by the Dark Lord. Indirectly, of course... I was hungry for power and eager for change... I joined him." I was more aware of the Dark Mark burned into my skin than I had been since the last time it had burned black. "I did... horrible things. Willingly. Gladly." I paused. Lyria was listening attentively, but didn't look horrified or disgusted. "But... he had me and a few others follow him on one of his killing sprees... and... he tortured a nine-year-old girl to death. I wanted to be sick... after he dismissed us, I went straight to Dumbledore and told him everything I knew. Everything I'd done, everything I'd seen done, all the future plans... He understood. He helped me out of it... and he asked me to stay in the circle and collect information."
"You were the spy." She said quietly.
"Yes. That's how he defended what I'd done to the Ministry. They didn't question it, because the information I brought back was valuable to them."
There was absolute silence. It was almost a tangible thing.
It was a weight off my shoulders not to have to hide it, but my stomach twisted at all the possible reactions she might have. "I needed to tell you... to be honest with you... before we decided anything."
She continued to be silent. I hoped it was merely because it was a lot to take in. "If you don't ever want to look at me again, I'll understand..." I told her.
She got to her feet and kissed me softly. "Listen to me. Yes, you did terrible, sickening things. But you've acknowledged it yourself, you've redeemed yourself. It's no one else's place to judge... and certainly not mine. I love you. That means I accept you completely." The grin crossed her face again. "Past record, crooked nose, and all. I just hope the children don't get stuck with it..."
"The reputation?"
"No, the nose," She replied, trying to make me laugh.
I didn't. "I don't think I'll ever redeem myself for it... it's not going to stop haunting me."
"You're trying. And I'm not going to stop haunting you either. We'll get through it."
My head was spinning. In less than an hour, I'd told her everything and been accepted. She'd said she loved me and gone so far as to mention children... 'We'll get through it.' "Marry me."
"Pardon?"
"Marry me." I repeated.
She looked at me as if I'd sprouted another head. "Severus, are you drunk?"
"Don't look at me like that. It seems to me we're in love..."
"The next logical step?" She said.
"Well... if you want to look at it that way..."
Lyria laughed, a delightful sound. "Provided you don't mean on the spot... I'd be delighted."
It was one of those flashbulb memories I couldn't forget if I tried.
This one's entirely from Snape's point of view, so no crazy switch of point of view. I felt a need to justify the cold, harsh former Death Eater falling in love. (Hey, at least Lyria's not a sap! She's a tough type! Hehe...)
The idea of Snape owning a raven originates with someone else - J.L. Matthews, I believe.
I hated these sorts of things. I've never been a socialite, though at least I had the excuse of my father's recent death to cover for my distraction. Play along. Listen. Report back to Dumbledore.
Tonight, however, I tried to avoid all conversation and just listen. Everyone excused it, of course, which made things much easier for me.
"It's curious that he hasn't made any sort of appearance, Lucius," Macnair was telling the host of this idiotic Halloween celebration.
I hate parties.
"The Dark Lord is busy this evening," Malfoy smiled maliciously. "He's off to the Potters."
"The Potters? But rumor has it they've used the Fidelius Charm to hide themselves."
"Their Secret Keeper is a bit less trustworthy than they thought," Malfoy replied. The grin was still on his face.
Shit.
Time to leave and get to Dumbledore before they were dead.
I excused myself - had to visit Mother, after all, her first holiday without my father-and not a single one of them questioned. I apparated immediately to the school (just off the grounds, of course) and ran in a completely undignified manner to Dumbledore's office. "Headmaster!"
"Lily and James already dead, Severus." He said quietly. "We're trying to let their friends know, but we've been unable to contact anyone but Lyria Strider." He paused. "I've sent Hagrid to get Harry. We'll need to bring him to his relatives.
"The child?"
"He lived. Voldemort has vanished."
I noticed that Dumbledore hadn't said he'd died. He knew, of course, all the Dark Lord's steps toward attaining immortality; I had told him of them myself. "The child is alive? How?"
"Lily sacrificed herself for him." Dumbledore said simply. There was a pause. "Severus, will you go check on Lyria?"
"Strider?" I wrinkled my nose distastefully. We weren't exactly fond of each other. "Why me?"
"Hagrid's out, Minerva's out, and I need to leave the staff with the students. I think you two might do each other some good."
I wanted to say no. I wanted very badly to flat out refuse to go. If the Dark Lord was truly... well, out of the way, he no longer had any right to order me around.
I tried, really I did, but I simply couldn't. I owed him my freedom and most likely my life. Visiting even that insufferable woman seemed a foolish thing to fuss over. "I'll go."
"Thank you."
We both left the office and walked off the grounds. He went to wherever Hagrid was taking Potter's little brat, and I apparated to the landing outside Strider's door.
I knocked tentatively. No response. I knocked again, a bit louder. Still nothing. I sighed, exasperated. The crazy snot had probably drunk herself to sleep. Well, best check and at least be sure she's still breathing... I opened the door. She hadn't locked it behind her.
Lyria Strider was sitting on the floor in the middle of the living room, dressed in her Auror robes and crying her eyes out with an empty bottle of scotch on the floor next to her.
Oh good Lord. Maybe I ought to have put up a fuss. I'd rather face angry Death Eaters to crying women any day. "Strider?"
She jumped. "What the hell are you doing here?" She slurred at me.
"Dumbledore sent me. Are you... are you alright?"
"Huh? Oh, fine... need another drink, 's all..." She wobbled to her feet.
"No, no, I think you've had quite enough for the evening. I may not like you, but I don't think I hate you enough to let you die of alcohol poisoning either." I told her, helping her steady herself. "Tell me you have a decent cauldron and basic potions supplies around?"
She gestured toward a closet.
I got her seated on the sofa - still sobbing - and quickly brewed something to get her sober. "Drink it."
She complied and shook the alcohol off as if it were a blanket. "I suppose I should thank you for that."
"You won't in the morning. It doesn't get rid of the hangover you're going to have. A bottle of scotch, Strider?"
She began to sob again. "He... he killed them... James and Lily... Peter... my *sister*....."
"Cassi?"
She merely nodded. "My... my fiancé killed half our friends!!"
Only Gryffindors. "What about the other half? Why aren't Lupin and Greenleaf with you?"
"She's not in England, she went to visit her family as soon as she heard," Lyria managed, still crying.
"And Lupin?"
"I don't know."
I had dealt with enough suffering myself to know she wasn't to be left alone. Not in her present state... I added one last thing to the still- simmering cauldron which changed the potion entirely. "Here, you'll want another dose of this to finish clearing your head."
She took it unquestioningly, and I noted that it would have been a fine time to poison her if I'd wished. She downed the potion and immediately fell asleep.
Knowing she'd be that way until well into tomorrow afternoon, I lifted her as she was and dumped her on her bed before leaving. I'd done more than my duty for the night.
It was two days later when two owls arrived in the morning. I snatched the letters and shooed them away - the raven's not terribly fond of owls - and proceeded to read.
The first came from Dumbledore. "Dear Severus, With the retirement of Professor Prewett we are in need of a new Potions Master for next term. I was wondering if you were interested. Please let me know soon, as if you aren't I'll need to do a bit of searching."
A teacher. Me? And Dumbledore hadn't mentioned that Prewett had been head of Slytherin... I'd have to think about that one.
The second letter came from Lyria Strider. "Just wanted to thank you for showing up the other night. You let me rant to someone besides the mirror and helped me preserve the rest of the scotch for another night. Also, you need to spend time outside, because you're rather overly pale. Just in case you didn't already know. And you're teaching me to make that sleeping potion sometime."
I called Corvus (the raven) over to me and hastily wrote out a reply. "You'd do well not to drink all the scotch at once. And you ought to eat regularly, you look anorexic. As for the potion, back of the book we used seventh year. Take out the cup of armadillo bile and you can use it for sobering yourself up next time you get the urge to drink every bit of alcohol in your flat."
Then I replied to Dumbledore that I'd consider the position before going about my normal business.
I was not expecting a week later to get another letter from Strider. "I'll have you know I eat at least twice daily. Usually three times, but sometimes I'm a bit busy and miss that midday meal. Thanks for the potion directions; I've had to use both pretty regularly. On a side note, what are you doing now that we've graduated?"
It took me a very long time before I decided whether or not to reply. She was clearly in need of a friend, and I didn't really have any desire to be her Replacement Remus Lupin. On the other hand, it might be nice to have someone to talk to... she was a Gryffindor, but Strider was sensible enough. Usually.
I replied a few days later. "Don't use the sleeping potion daily, it's addictive. Don't use the scotch daily either. And you can't afford to be missing meals. I haven't decided for certain what I'm doing yet, though Dumbledore's offered me a place on the teaching staff at the school. How does the Auror's life suit you?"
I found myself actually looking forward to hearing from her. At first, this alarmed me, but then I figured out precisely what was going on. My current existence was a solitary one, and it was nice to have someone to talk to, no matter that she was a Gryffindor and an Auror and an obstinate fool. Corvus wasn't the best company, and she was another person who I could talk to. That was all. Nothing more.
The reply was longer than some of our notes had been. "Thanks for the advice on the sleeping potion. I've replaced it with the scotch, my new midday meal. The Auror's life is rather dull, comparatively. It's become mopping up work. Not terribly exciting. As for the teaching position, you're definitely talented enough at potions, though I don't know how you'd deal with children constantly. It'd be a learning experience, anyway, and you could surprise the entire wizarding world and be good at it. I'm going to assume that'd mean you'd be head of Slytherin too. That would most definitely be a good thing for them-and probably you, too. Go on and take it if you're toying with the idea. I'm in the process of moving, so you may wish to wait a while before you write again. And tell your raven to leave my owl alone the next time he brings a letter."
"Corvus, I thought you had manners," I told the bird. He merely swooped off without a word, as if he didn't wish to humble himself to speak with me if I was associating with Gryffindors. I wrote to Dumbledore this time, accepting the position. It was... strange, to not immediately reply to her letter. I was getting used to her rather left-handed compliments and sharp wit. And it was easier to be civil with her when I wasn't looking at that insufferable smirk.
It turned out I met her face to face before she'd even finished moving.
I had needed a trip to Hogsmeade badly, so I'd finally decided to brave the early spring crowds. I was leaving Dervish and Banges when I ran - quite literally - into a certain Auror.
As she was a good head shorter than me and rather petite, she fell to the ground. "Care to watch where you're going?" she snapped, then looked up to see who she'd run into. "Oh. It's you."
"Yes, it's me," I confirmed, giving her a hand up. "And you were the one running along the street with your head down."
"It's windy. I don't want dust and such blowing into my face."
"You've got a hood," I pointed out.
She glared. "You're a lot more pleasant to deal with over parchment and ink, you know that?"
"So are you. But as we're both here and we haven't talked in a while, why don't we both get out of the wind and go have a drink?"
She looked as surprised as I felt. What the hell had possessed me to say that?!? And what the hell was I going to talk to her about over a drink if she agreed?
She hesitated a moment - perhaps thinking about the same things I had - before she replied. "I think that's a pretty good idea."
We walked down to the Three Broomsticks. I suppose we looked a curious pair, and I was certain the rumors would fly. It didn't bother me, though; I knew she would put them down as fast as I would. Within a few moments, we were sitting at a table in a corner.
There was a slightly awkward silence. "Did you decide on that teaching position yet?" Strider asked, sipping at her drink.
I could have kissed her for breaking the almost tangible silence. If I were fond of kissing snobbish Gryffindors. "Yes, I'm going to take it. Professor Prewett will bring his old lesson notes and such to me at the end of the term, and I'll write up my own plans over the summer holidays."
"You're probably the youngest to ever be on staff."
"Most likely. But it was kind of Dumbledore to think of me for it, and I do owe him a great deal."
She looked genuinely interested. "There's more to you than you care to admit. Forgive me for being nosy, and I certainly can't make you answer, but why exactly do you owe him so much?"
"As you said, you can't make me answer." I replied. "It remains to be seen how long I'll stay."
"You'll be there a while." She said this with absolute certainty. "You might not be the most well-liked teacher there - in fact, I doubt you will be - but you do have plenty to teach."
"Potions is my talent."
"Not about potions, though you've certainly got that gift. About life. The sort of thing they can't learn from a book... if you're willing to teach that."
"I didn't realize you were a philosopher," I snapped.
"I'm not. But I'm a bit more observant than you care to give me credit for," she said off-handedly. "I suppose you'll be a Head of House too?"
"Yes."
"Hopefully you'll have better luck winning the cup as a teacher than as a student," she said, that insufferable smirk planted firmly on her face.
"I see you haven't grown up any," I said coolly.
"I see you haven't lightened up any," she countered. "It'd do you some good, you know."
"It'd do you some good to stop drinking, but that doesn't mean you're going to."
"Fair enough. While we're on the topic of things that would do us some good, you'd have a lot more friends if you didn't get so damned defensive."
"Friends didn't seem to do you much good."
She grinned. "I suppose the next thing out of your mouth will be that friends are for the lesser sort. Gryffindors and muggle-borns and the other dregs of the wizarding world, right?"
"At least you've finally admitted it." The verbal sparring was actually rather enjoyable, and Strider was a worthy opponent.
She merely laughed.
Strider, despite the length of time I'd known her, was a complete and total mystery to me. I quickly reviewed what I knew of her in my head. The fourth of six children from a family as old as mine, she'd seen her oldest brother die when she was sixteen. A bit of a cynic, with a talent for Potions that had kept most of the Gryffindors afloat, but her real gift was in Defense Against the Dark Arts. She had wanted to be an Auror for as long as I had known her - she'd probably been born with the goal. Despite the cynicism and sarcasm, she was loyal almost to a fault and - at least I judged from her relationship with Black - too trusting. A tomboy, always (she could get just plain violent sometimes), but still very pretty...
Where the hell had *that* come from?!?
I banished that idea back to wherever I'd gotten it from. By now, we'd both finished our drinks. "We'll have to do this again."
"I agree. You're surprisingly good company when you aren't being an obnoxious git."
We parted ways, but I couldn't help but think back to the conversation over the next few days.
About a week later, the grayish owl I'd come to recognize as hers arrived in the early morning. "I've finally finished moving and settled in, and I had a chance to write. I'll have you know I haven't had a drop of scotch since our rather impromptu trip to the Three Broomsticks, though that's more likely because I haven't any in the house than out of any reforms induced by a certain obnoxious git, so don't flatter yourself. Just wondering if you've started making lesson plans and listing modes of punishment yet, and if you have, may I suggest you speak to Filch. I'm sure he's got plenty of ideas for student torture."
I couldn't help but laugh as I wrote out a reply. "I'm not vindictive enough to hang students from the ceiling by their thumbs, unless of course they're Gryffindors. In that case, perhaps I should talk to Filch... in any case, glad to hear you've settled in and haven't drunk yourself to death yet." Then I paused. How to phrase this? And more to the point, did I even want to ask it?
Yes, I did. I wasn't entirely sure why, but I did want to spend more time with Lyria Strider. Maybe it was the genuine interest, maybe it was her cleverness and wit, or maybe it was just a pretty face, but I valued her company. "I was wondering if you were doing anything this weekend, and if not if you'd like to meet up for drinks again." That would suffice. Short, to the point, and not implying that I had any interest in her as anything beyond a friend.
We met Saturday afternoon. It was, sadly, the last Hogsmeade weekend for the students at the school, and so the village was insanely crowded. Lyria, however, was able to secure the same corner table as last time, and a good sneer or two parted crowds of teenagers easily.
"You've been practicing your intimidation techniques, I see," she commented as I returned to the table.
"A useful talent to have. It's nice to see that you have a wardrobe outside of your Auror's robes."
"I'm still not convinced you own anything that isn't black."
"I don't."
That earned me an exasperated sigh. "You're morbid sometimes, you know that? I'm taking you shopping."
"You're masochistic sometimes, you know that? No you aren't."
"Fine then... not this time," she conceded.
"Keep up the threats and there won't *be* a next time," I warned.
"Promises, promises."
We both laughed at that before Lyria continued. "You know my Auror partner had the unmitigated gall to ask me if I was seeing you."
"Excellent word choice. You're starting to sound like me. Why, is he interested?"
We discussed her partner and her Auror work for a while before she yet again brought up the subject of dress. "It's June, you know."
"Apostle of the Obvious, Lyria," I replied. Then I realized I'd called her by her first name... and worse, I'd actually liked how it sounded.
"Well then, Severus," she'd picked up on it and followed suit, "Whyever are you wearing long sleeved black robes with a collar up to your chin?"
"Because I wish to."
"Now you're being difficult on me."
"I'm good at that."
"Yes, yes you are," Lyria sighed. "Alright, you win. I won't bother you over it this time. Been following Quidditch?"
"Not since England lost to Portugal last week. That match was pathetic."
Talk continued over another round of drinks before we parted again, this time deciding to meet again the next week.
"The weekly therapy sessions," she laughed as she apparated away to her home.
I returned to my home as well, musing that she really wasn't too far off.
We continued like this until mid-July.
I came to look forward to talking to Lyria. She was understanding when I needed to rant, and had quite a few good suggestions regarding my lesson plans. More to the point, we could be brutally honest with each other without anyone offending the other. If she arrived looking like shit because she hadn't slept, I told her so. And likewise, she had no qualms about telling me it looked like I hadn't eaten in about a week and forcing me to put down my plan books.
I found, much to my surprise, that I could help her as well, sometimes simply by letting her worry about someone else's problems. If she looked depressed, I made her talk. If she was worried about something, I listened to her rant and then either advised her or just told her she was being stupid. And there was something reassuring to us both about the consistency of our weekly meetings.
One day, Professor Prewett-who had rather been my mentor while I was at school-came to visit and see how my plans were coming along. He almost immediately noticed Lyria's neat writing and notes she'd made when we'd gone over my plans.
"Looks like you've had some help, Severus," he commented. "And from the writing... Miss Strider?"
"Yes. We've become rather good friends." I muttered.
"I've heard. I've also heard rumors that you're a bit closer than good friends." Prewett said in his usual unemotional manner.
"No. We're not. Just looking after each other a bit and such."
"And that's acceptable to you."
"Why wouldn't it be?"
"I've come across you two once or twice down at the Three Broomsticks. You've developed a... certain fondness for her, have you not?"
Damn. He would know... "I suppose I have, sir."
"You might ask her to dinner." Prewett said.
"You mean..."
"I mean date her, Snape. Good Lord, you're a bright enough youngster to figure out what I mean!"
"She's a Gryffindor, sir," I said, as if that explained everything.
"Does that really matter out here in the real world? You're not a student anymore, Snape. Step out of the safety box and wake up."
I wanted to let him know how far out of the box I'd already stepped. I had been a Death Eater; I had been a spy. I'd endangered my life while he sat around and taught sniveling brats to brew potions. I opened my mouth to tell him just what he could do with his advice-
And realized he was right.
We got down to business for about an hour and I realized I'd be late to meet Lyria if I didn't hurry. I left for the Three Broomsticks, still dwelling on his words... "I mean date her, Snape! Step out of the safety box and wake up."
"You're distracted," Lyria said. It wasn't a question.
"As observant as usual."
"What's the matter with you this time?" She asked.
I was silent, and she became concerned.
"Would you please answer the question already, Sev?"
"First, never, ever call me that again. Ever. And I mean it," I warned. "I talked with Prewett a little bit this morning."
"Well that'd be enough to drive anyone half mad, but you always seemed fond of him. What happened?"
His words returned. 'You've developed... a certain fondness for her, have you not?' "Nothing really. Just distracted, I suppose. Thinking."
"I thought I warned you about that," Lyria replied.
I shot her a sardonic glare. "Thank you so much for your never ending support, Lyria. You aren't making it easy for me over here."
"I enjoy making things difficult. And I have no idea what you're prattling about, which means there's no way I could help you out even if I wanted to."
I sighed and then decided to just get it over with instead of dragging things out slowly and painfully. "Do you have plans this evening?"
"Yes, but I don't think my scotch will mind if I cancel. Why?"
"Would you like to go to dinner?"
"Why, Severus Snape, are you asking me on a date?"
"I suppose so."
She smiled a bit. "I'd love to, but my scotch gets jealous if I'm out too late."
The way she teased alleviated my nervousness. "Well you may tell it I promise not to keep you out too long."
I arranged to meet her at her home that evening and we separated.
I noticed almost immediately that she knew how to dress.
She'd pulled her hair up, but it was more elaborate than practical, in a style that never would have worked when she was on duty. She was in blue - of course - but a light shade that complimented the blue-gray eyes instead of her usual dark Auror robes.
"Good evening... why Lyria, you look like a woman." I told her with a slight grin.
"And you'll be pleased to know that you don't," Lyria replied, returning the grin. "Good evening yourself."
Dinner was, despite all the things it could have turned into, fun. Neither of us really noticed the stares and whispers of... well, everyone. (I was practiced at ignoring stares, and Lyria followed my example and didn't deign to pay attention to them.) Conversation was on the usual topics, but lacked the sharpness we often used with each other.
As much as Lyria could be sharp and cynical, she was also quite a lady when she wished to be. It was rather a privilege to see beyond the sharp Auror.
After dinner, we apparated to a spot a short distance from her home and walked the rest of the way.
She turned to face me. "Goodnight, then."
Without a word, I kissed her softly and apparated away before she could say anything.
The bad part of kissing her and running away was that I had to deal with it later anyway. It also made it very difficult to sleep, because I was left wondering if she'd have kissed back or slapped me across the face had I waited.
Not sleeping, however, gave me plenty of time to think. I wasn't sure when I'd started to consider her more than a friend, or quite what had made me start thinking of her that way. Reflecting, I had to admit that I was in love with her. There was no other way I could describe how I felt for her.
I, a former Death Eater and the new Head of Slytherin House, had fallen for a cynical Gryffindor Auror over a weekly drink. How pathetic.
I half-expected her owl to arrive the next morning with a note (perhaps even a Howler, the woman was quick-tempered). I did not expect, however, the knock at the door.
I knew without answering it that it was her, and that there was a powerful chance I was about to be kicked in the head.
Cautiously, I opened the door.
She kissed me.
When we finally broke apart, I tried to compose myself while Lyria watched me with those blue-gray eyes behind the silver-rimmed glasses. "Would you please stop staring?"
"You're not talking. And I took in the decor in about thirty seconds." She replied.
"You didn't come here to pick up decorating tips. And I don't *think* you came here to snog."
"No, that wasn't quite what I had in mind," she said with a grin. Then she grew serious. "I think we need to talk... about what just happened, and about what happened last night."
"What happened last night: I was a gentleman and kissed you at the door. What just happened: You tried to stick your tongue down my throat."
"You know what I mean," she said. "You're many things, but no one's ever accused you of being stupid."
"Right. Have a seat. Want a drink?"
"No, it's still a little early." She said, flopping onto the sofa.
I shook my head. "Have you got a death wish?"
"Give me a couple years," Lyria replied. There was an awkward pause. "Severus, where is this going?"
"I haven't planned that far ahead yet."
"Where do you want it to go?"
That threw me off. "I... I'm not sure." I paused. "What about you?"
"Would you tell me I was crazy if I said I think I'm falling for you?"
It amazed me how one sentence reassured me. She had the same feelings... and was suffering from the same doubts. "No... I wouldn't say you were crazy."
She looked up at me. "What would you say, then?"
I found myself wondering how this had happened... what I'd done to deserve it. I quickly decided I didn't... and then realized she didn't know. "I'd say I love you... and you need to know what you're getting into."
"I'm pretty sure I can handle it," she said, a grin crossing her face, but I did not smile back. "Severus?"
I sat down next to her. "Did you wonder why Dumbledore sent me to check on you on Halloween?"
"I was too drunk to wonder at the time, and I haven't really thought about it. Why?"
"I..." I had no idea how to tell her. Her reaction could determine everything I'd ever become. "After we graduated, I... was contacted by the Dark Lord. Indirectly, of course... I was hungry for power and eager for change... I joined him." I was more aware of the Dark Mark burned into my skin than I had been since the last time it had burned black. "I did... horrible things. Willingly. Gladly." I paused. Lyria was listening attentively, but didn't look horrified or disgusted. "But... he had me and a few others follow him on one of his killing sprees... and... he tortured a nine-year-old girl to death. I wanted to be sick... after he dismissed us, I went straight to Dumbledore and told him everything I knew. Everything I'd done, everything I'd seen done, all the future plans... He understood. He helped me out of it... and he asked me to stay in the circle and collect information."
"You were the spy." She said quietly.
"Yes. That's how he defended what I'd done to the Ministry. They didn't question it, because the information I brought back was valuable to them."
There was absolute silence. It was almost a tangible thing.
It was a weight off my shoulders not to have to hide it, but my stomach twisted at all the possible reactions she might have. "I needed to tell you... to be honest with you... before we decided anything."
She continued to be silent. I hoped it was merely because it was a lot to take in. "If you don't ever want to look at me again, I'll understand..." I told her.
She got to her feet and kissed me softly. "Listen to me. Yes, you did terrible, sickening things. But you've acknowledged it yourself, you've redeemed yourself. It's no one else's place to judge... and certainly not mine. I love you. That means I accept you completely." The grin crossed her face again. "Past record, crooked nose, and all. I just hope the children don't get stuck with it..."
"The reputation?"
"No, the nose," She replied, trying to make me laugh.
I didn't. "I don't think I'll ever redeem myself for it... it's not going to stop haunting me."
"You're trying. And I'm not going to stop haunting you either. We'll get through it."
My head was spinning. In less than an hour, I'd told her everything and been accepted. She'd said she loved me and gone so far as to mention children... 'We'll get through it.' "Marry me."
"Pardon?"
"Marry me." I repeated.
She looked at me as if I'd sprouted another head. "Severus, are you drunk?"
"Don't look at me like that. It seems to me we're in love..."
"The next logical step?" She said.
"Well... if you want to look at it that way..."
Lyria laughed, a delightful sound. "Provided you don't mean on the spot... I'd be delighted."
It was one of those flashbulb memories I couldn't forget if I tried.
