A/N: This takes place during chapter 9 of The Vindicated Auror. I ran out of inspiration for the next chapter and pounded out 3,000 words for Severus. Eh. At least I'm writing.
Severus awoke on the 31st of October with a splitting headache.
He groaned, rolled over, and pressed his face into the pillow. Despite knowing that he had a headache potion just a few feet away in his bathroom cabinet, he lay there savoring the feeling of acute misery for a while.
This is pathetic, he thought at last, and heaved himself out of bed. He stumbled through the narrow walkway he'd forged through the stacks of books and empty cauldrons that he'd left in his room for no particular reason. Lack of time to deal with them properly, more like. When he moved into his new quarters he had thought he was well prepared for the life of a teacher, having been an apprentice who did almost all of Slughorn's busywork, gathered all the ingredients (except the expensive ones that Horace likely sold extras of at Knockturn Alley, of course), graded all the homework, and had taught several of the younger classes while his so-called 'Master' piddled about with experiments in the back room.
It turned out being a proper Potions Master with a title and a sprawling room in the dungeons to scatter his belongings across meant that he did everything he'd done before, but also had to be on hand 24-7 to deal with students, learn from Valerius Aldbar what a proper Slytherin Head of House should do, patrol the corridors after hours, find increasingly inventive ways to get out of supervising Hogsmeade visits, and go to the staff meetings Albus seemed so proud of and Minerva, Poppy, Rolanda and Pomona used as excuses to gossip worse than fourth-year girls.
And all that, of course, in addition to "spying" on Dumbledore for the Dark Lord; actually spying on Voldemort for Dumbledore; frantically trying to figure out if Lucius was getting concerned enough about the rampant bloodlust in the Death Eaters to consider defecting, or if he was simply pretending to be wavering in loyalty to trick Severus into admitting his own disloyalty; appearing for Order meetings without, you know, actually meeting any of the Order, because he had to maintain secrecy at all times; and when Muggles and "blood traitors" were killed, toeing the line between not showing his true disgust, looking as though he really was satisfied but was hiding it with "believable sympathy."
It's too bloody much, especially with this month from hell. Too many deaths.
Severus arrived at his medicine cabinet and counted four empty spaces before he quickly snatched up the last of his Headache Reliever and downed the whole thing in one gulp. He shuddered at the taste and smiled grimly at the label he'd affixed to the front: Vial contains five doses. If you drink the entire contents, go eat something or you'll vomit everything in your stomach.
Past Severus was quite a witty fellow.
Present Severus rested his hands on the sink and stared at his reflection in the mirror. He looked awful, to be honest. Dark circles under his eyes, face an unhealthy yellow tinge that wasn't just the abysmal skin he'd inherited from his mother, the skin around his eyes pulled tight even without the headache. Apparently, the human body wasn't meant to function on less than three hours of sleep a night. Or regular doses of the Cruciatus. Or frantic Floo calls from Lily about her friends' deaths, which he'd been unable to do anything about.
His lip curled up in a halfhearted snarl. Surely he could have done something. What kind of spy couldn't figure out where the leak had come from? He'd done everything he could to discover the weak spot, but had only turned up the Dark Lord's personal involvement in Dorcas Meadowes' death. Perhaps Voldemort had broken into her mind and learned the identity of the Order members there.
Perhaps I should have brought a gun to the first Death Eater meeting and seen if His Royal Darkness could do anything about a Muggle weapon. It'd be satisfying to try anyway. Maybe I can get Fletcher to do it...
Severus sighed. He had to get something in his stomach, and he had to speak with Dumbledore. Voldemort had been tense at the meeting last night, and he'd spoken of the prophecy Severus had reported no less than four times over the course of the evening. He was planning something, Severus was sure of it. And yes, he'd told Dumbledore all of that when he returned to Hogwarts, but maybe the old wizard had thought of something during the night.
Once he'd reached the Great Hall, Severus nodded to the teachers who were there and took Minerva's usual seat beside Dumbledore.
The older man somehow still twinkled over his half-moon spectacles every morning, no matter whose house had borne the Dark Mark the previous night. Severus used to think it was naivete but now he saw it as a particular brand of courage he would never have.
(He thought of Mary McKinnon and that awful scream, and how she still greeted Minerva with a smile — no matter how shaky — every morning.)
"Good morning, Severus," Dumbledore said cheerfully. "Happy Halloween."
Severus blinked at him and then busied himself with pouring himself a cup of coffee. (Another staff perk but this time he'd won a beautiful chess set from Lucius carved from Viperteeth.) He swallowed gratefully before frowning at the Headmaster. "I still maintain the fact that mornings are never good."
Albus, the old rascal, had the gall to laugh at this like it was an old joke between them.
Severus looked out over the Great Hall. Breakfast on a weekend was much quieter than the other days of the week. For one thing, attendance was not mandatory for the staff like it was on the weekdays. For another, five sevenths of the students didn't have lessons in the morning, which meant most of them stayed in bed until lunch. This meant the ones remaining were the oldest.
(Or a few exceptions like Ivy Nelson, who showed up for every meal without fail, devoured her entire plate, and still looked the same size as a Bowtruckle.)
His NEWT classes were both easier and more difficult than the other five years combined. Potions was not compulsory after their OWLs, which meant either everyone in his classes wanted to be there or had to be there for their chosen field. However, the smaller numbers meant he taught all four Houses at once. It was...interesting.
It's a nightmare, is what it is.
Despite everything he, Aldbar, and Minerva were doing, Gryffindor and Slytherin were still at each other's throats every second of the day. And despite what everyone else thought, Hufflepuff could be downright vicious when provoked, and almost everyone in Slytherin was related to someone who had hurt one of their friends. And despite his wildest hopes, Ravenclaw wasn't actually a House of studious, conscientious students who did their homework. Oh no. They somehow managed to turn in three foot essays on Mooncalves when he'd asked for eleven inches on Ashwinder eggs. How.
And, too, the older students had been privy to their families' toxic stance on blood purity for much longer than their younger counterparts. For example, Olthom, Umbridge, and Wilkes. Olthom and Wilkes were both plainly looking forward to graduating and taking the Mark, and Umbridge was tagging along with a surprising amount of half-sadistic cunning hidden in her girlish persona. The three of them led the others in their group, about six or so, on a destructive campaign around Hogwarts that had Poppy Pomphrey about ready to pull her hair out.
Today Olthom and Wilkes were sitting together, talking quietly with—
Selwyn.
Severus hadn't been able to prove it yet, but he was almost certain Selwyn's father was a Death Eater.
He frowned. Percival Selwyn looked excited, in the smug way of the young when they have information their elders do not. He'd been included by Wilkes pretty early on in the school year, early enough for Aldbar and Severus to wonder if their fathers were closer friends than they'd thought. And right now it looked like Selwyn was sharing information he'd gotten in a letter from his father to an extremely excited Wilkes.
But if Selwyn Sr had been at the meeting last night, he couldn't have had any more clue of what was about to happen than Severus. But many eyes held enough pieces of the same thing to get a clear picture, if one could only put them together. Severus took it as a confirmation.
"Something is going to happen tonight," he told Dumbledore in a low voice.
Albus' shoulders tensed, hardly noticeable unless one paid attention to the enigmatic wizard all day. "That much, I believe, is certain."
Oddly enough, Severus' morning classes passed without a hitch. After he had finished his classes for the day, he retired to his office to grade papers until lunch. At first nothing seemed out of the ordinary, despite how he had looked for anything otherwise. Then his fireplace flared green and he heard a muffled yelp and a thud and he rolled his eyes.
"Knock first, you mangy mutt," he called. "You know I leave my Floo warded against stray vermin."
"Oh very funny, Snivellus," snapped the unmistakable voice of Sirius Black. "Let me in."
Severus drummed his fingers on his desk for a moment. Normally he would hold out a while longer, make the Maurader actually ask permission before coming in, but he sounded tense, and Severus was still on edge. He flicked his wand at the fireplace, lowering the wards. "Enter," he drawled.
Black stepped out, brushing himself off. "Always gotta have the last word," he muttered to himself. He looked around. "Got anything to eat?"
"No, because unlike yourself I am a wizard employed at an actual job, that of a teacher, which position affords me free meals the envy of pitiable bachelors the world over."
Black rolled his eyes and threw himself into one of the armchairs. Normally the Animagus couldn't keep still, lending an air of half-transformed puppyish eagerness to everything he did, but today he sat unnaturally still.
Severus waited patiently. He could outlast him. He only needed patience.
"What do you want, Black?"
(Not so patiently.)
Sirius looked up and he seemed suddenly young. Oh gods, we're only 21. We are young. "Snape…have you...heard anything? From — from You-Know-Who?"
Snape cocked his head and said nothing. Experience had taught him that Black would fill the silence on his own.
Black shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "It's just…I…" He swallowed. "I worry. About James. And Lily. And Harry too, precious tyke." The familiar appellation did not hold its usual affection, instead more of an afterthought than anything.
Snape remained silent. He suspected Black was the Secret-Keeper for the Potters, and the purpose of this visit was likely meant to soothe his fears about Voldemort targeting him. Why he thought Snape would give him such comfort was a mystery.
Black looked back at the fire. "Do you think Lily's—"
So you won't talk about what brought you here. All right then. "I suspect so," Severus answered. "She glows like she did last time."
Sirius smiled, but he did not look away from the fire. "I bet it'll be another boy."
Severus huffed. "And I bet it will be a girl, because you are always wrong." He hauled himself to his feet. "I have to get to lunch, you poor unemployed vagrant. I'd offer you some, but I'm a bastard so I won't."
Sirius didn't laugh like he usually did. He finally tore his gaze from the fireplace and he looked vulnerable in a way the rest of the Blacks never would. "What do you think of Peter?"
Severus blinked. He had not seen that question coming. "I don't think much of him, to be honest," he blurted without thinking. He winced. You promise Lily you'll be nice to her friends and this is how you do it? "I mean, you and Remus are always squabbling like old women and James is always talking about Harry." How to sound honest without saying that I'm always reciting Potions ingredients to keep from hexing his face off? "Peter is so quiet he's easy to forget." Perfect.
Sirius twisted his fingers together. "Yeah. That's the thing, isn't it?" He suddenly shot to his feet. "Goodbye, Snape," he said, and left without another word.
Severus frowned after him. If even Sirius Black was noticing something in the air, he was right to be worried.
During lunch Severus could barely eat a bite. He turned his thoughts around and around, trying to catch some clue he had missed and unable to. Minerva, who had swapped seats with Aldbar at the old Auror's request, tried to engage him in conversation but he ignored her.
The Hall sounded a bit quieter than usual but he didn't trust his Occlumency shields to hold up if he looked around.
At one point he felt eyes on him and looked up to see Sybil Trelawney staring at him in confusion. She looked from him to Dumbledore and back again. Severus could have sworn he felt a rush of magic and Trelawney snapped her head around to stare at the Gryffindor table. At…
Miss Williams? Word had somehow gotten back to Avery about his son's involvement with the Muggleborn and Snape watched the pair in Potions but nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Perhaps Janus Avery's defiant flaunting of his father's ideology was more suited to a Gryffindor than a Slytherin, but-
But why had she caught Trelawney's attention? Had that magic come from her? Was she going to be important somehow? Severus' gut clenched at the thought of another innocent life caught up in some prophecy in this horrifying war. Sarah Williams deserved to live a normal life, surely.
The little first-year stared resolutely back at Trelawney, who shook herself and went back to her meal.
Severus resolved to maneuver the Seer into staying in her room for the evening. He didn't want her out and about where any student could overhear whatever prophecies she might make. Perhaps he would mention All Hallow's Eve as being particularly significant for visions of the future — such visions naturally taking several hours of dedicated meditation to achieve, of course. It would be worth whatever nonsense she managed to come up with later. Course of action decided, Severus went back to worrying at the puzzle which was Tom Riddle's plans for tonight.
Having left Trelawney safely ensconced in the Divination tower for the evening, Severus left the castle for a walk around the Black Lake, hoping it would clear his head. The air was cool, the sun just kissing the edge of the horizon, and a gentle breeze played with his robes as he walked.
He knew the Dark Lord had planned something for tonight. He knew it possibly involved a magical artifact from one of the older families in the Death Eaters, as he'd seen Voldemort gather those sometimes referred to as his "Knights" — Avery, Malfoy, Nott, Mulciber, and Dolohov. Severus had tried to pay only so much attention as would be normal for one of the younger Death Eaters curious about everything and ready to gain any possible advantage however he could, but also someone who feared the Dark Lord. This meant he had not been able to see much of anything before being dismissed.
Had Dolohov been standing closer? Looking more at ease? With the masks it was difficult to tell and he had to rely on body language. Dolohov had stood tall, to be sure, but then again he always did. The Albanian wizard was incredibly difficult to read.
Severus kicked at a stone in the path and snarled. I don't have enough information!
He scowled up at the sky and turned back to the castle, eyes on the Divination tower.
I hate Sybil Trelawney.
Severus ran.
I hate Seers.
Severus nearly stumbled on the uneven ground and threw himself forward even faster to regain his balance.
I hate prophecies.
He slammed against the gate and almost dropped his wand in his hurry to lower the wards.
Prophecies are too vague.
Wards down. He stepped forward — left the barriers of Hogwarts — and Apparated in a single breath.
They can mean anything.
He wouldn't have noticed if he had Splinched himself. He wouldn't have noticed much of anything, not with how he stared, inertia completely gone, at the half-destroyed house in front of him.
I'm too late.
He found himself at the gate before he registered the will to move. The upper floor was nearly destroyed as though from an explosion within, and the front door was blasted open, laying in splinters on the lawn and the room beyond the threshold. He could see sock-clad feet lying still, embroidered with little Golden Snitches.
He'd seen those socks the day they were gifted, because he'd bought them.
"Potter?" he asked, and oh. His voice was cracking. He made his way to the door.
The one who saved the life of the Prince will die at the door.
He stepped over a chunk of the door and knelt at the — at the—
"James?"
— at the body.
He swallowed, and flicked his wand in a diagnostic charm despite knowing what he'd find.
He will fail to protect those whom he loves.
"No…"
Severus stood up, and stepped around James'— Potter's— around James Potter. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Potter's wand, lying inches from his outstretched fingers.
The Prince will ascend only to fall.
Severus made his way up the stairs, gaining speed as he went, because maybe — maybe he was wrong. Maybe they were still all right. He reached the landing and stopped in his tracks once more. The door at the top decorated in colorful letters hung crookedly on its hinges.
Inside, he could see a boy in a crib, and he wasn't moving.
But as Severus moved forward he stepped on a creaking floorboard and the boy moved, looking up at him. Severus caught his breath in overwhelming relief. His face was streaked with tears and there was a livid red scar splintered like lightning across his forehead, but he was alive. The baby began to cry.
"Oh, Harry," Severus said softly, and wasn't watching where he was going as he moved forward. His foot caught on something and he looked down. He saw red hair and a pretty green dress Sirius said brought out her eyes, and Severus collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut beside Lily's still form.
"No. No — Lily — "
The Dark Lord will fall but the boy will lose everything though he lives. His father will die at the door.
Severus brushed her hair away from her face, casting the charm once again. He knew it was hopeless. "I'm so sorry, Lily. I came as fast as I could."
Harry's crying grew louder and Severus hauled himself to his feet. He stumbled over to the crib as Harry raised his arms. "Un'le Sev," he said. Severus picked him up and the boy began to quiet. "Want Mama," he hiccuped.
Severus swallowed. "Mama is sleeping."
"Want Dada."
Severus didn't notice as his tears fell onto his godson's hair.
A/N: So...there you have it. I wanted another scene here but it was too spoiler-y so it'll have to wait. The ending was surprisingly emotional to write; I actually teared up a little bit, and that never happens? I think it's because of Alan Rickman's performance in this scene...
And now I have my fix-it fic for Severus 'steps-over-James-Potter's-dead-body-ignoring-crying-baby' Snape. I think if Severus hadn't been such a douche he would have remained friends with Lily. And sure, he'd be jealous of James, but eventually realizing he sees Lily as more of a sister he became sort of friends with James, and therefore the rest of the Mauraders. They would never actually like each other, but they meet up for Christmas and Order meetings and the like, exchanging passive-aggressive gifts and insults while Lily is distracted.
(Like the socks - given at their wedding with some kind of sentiment like 'in case you get cold feet because you're sleeping alone because you snore')
And I saw somewhere parents choosing two sets of godparents, one from the father's circle and one from the mother's, and I decided to make this Severus the godfather Lily chose (seeing as how literally no one else in her family is willing to participate in Harry's life). He visited the Potters enough (before they went into hiding) that Harry could recognize him as his "Uncle Sev". Remus will never let him live it down. Ever.
Anyway. The closer relationship means Severus is going to be absolutely furious with Sirius Black. Completely. Livid. He's going to take Sirius' hesitant visit as confirmation that Black was planning to betray the Potters, and he isn't going to even listen, much less forgive him.
So what did you think?
(May 10, 2017)
