Chapter 2.

It was hours later when I woke up at the touch of long fingers shaking my shoulder. I yawned and rubbed my eyes to look up in a pair of black ones even darker than the night sky outside.

"We're here," said Severus softly. As I sat up he opened the cab door and slipped outside. I heard him and the cab driver take out my trunk and I scrambled out of the cab as well, just in time to see Severus pay the cab driver and put my trunk on the pavement. Still sleepy, I got off the road went to his side when he beckoned me so the cab could drive on, and we were left alone in the dark, narrow street. Without a word Severus moved to the closest house; a brick building with a black door in a long line of identical houses. The street lamp in front of it was broken and the pavement, the door and windows were cloaked in shadow. He opened the door and shot me a glance over his shoulder; he didn't need to beckon me again for me to realize I was to follow him. The room we entered was lit only by the moonlight slipping through the curtains and in that vague light for a moment, it seemed the walls were covered in small, rectangular pillows. Then a flame flared up next to me as Severus lit a candle, and I saw that what I had taken for pillows were in fact the backs of rows and rows of books, lining almost every inch of the walls. A candle-filled lamp hung from the ceiling, unlit, and underneath it were the dark shapes of a sofa, an armchair and a table. I didn't get any chance to closer inspection, however, for Severus opened a door hidden in the book-covered walls and took the candlelight with him. I followed him as he hauled my trunk up a narrow staircase to an equally narrow landing. In the flickering light of the candle I saw three doors; Severus opened the second one and stepped back for me to enter it.

"This will be your bedroom. You must still be tired, you can go to sleep. We'll unpack your trunk in the morning and see if you need anything else. I'll be in the next room should you have need of me – it's the first door from the stairs." He put the candle on a small bedside table and moved back to the landing with brisk, long strides. He held there for a moment and shot me a hesitating glance over his shoulder. "Um – goodnight," he said after a short silence, and then he left, leaving the door slightly ajar. I heard his footsteps go down the stairs and looked about the room as I heard the door downstairs close.

It was a small room with one small window, bare grey walls and bare floorboards. It held only a narrow bed, an old wooden closet and the small nightstand on which Severus had put the candle. I touched for a light switch, expected it to be behind the door as it was in the orphanage, but found nothing. I walked into the room and sat down on the bed. The nightstand and the windowsill were covered in a fine layer of dust, but the linens on the bed were clean, if a bit worn. I leaned over and moved the curtain to the side to peak out, but it was too dark to make out anything more than moonlit rooftops, brick walls and a hint of the cobbled street below and I let the curtain fall back into place again.

I wrapped my arms around myself and looked about the room. It wasn't at all like the orphanage, and it wasn't how I had imagined the house of a real family to be, either. It was cold here, and silent, and I missed the soft chatter and presence of the other children. In Mrs. Carlyle's stories the houses of families were warm and comfortable, not cold and bare and dusty…

I felt something thicken in my throat and rubbed my eyes before I took a deep breath.

Perhaps it would be better tomorrow; after all it was very late now and no doubt my new brother would be tired, just like me. I nodded to myself and got up to get my night gown from my trunk. I'd better get some sleep, just as Severus had said, and then tomorrow we'd get to know each other and start becoming a family. After all – I was surprised to feel something fluttering in my stomach – he'd said my mother had asked for me, had asked him to go and get me… The third door on the landing must be her bedroom, but no doubt she was asleep already, it being so late, after all.

I smiled to myself as I climbed into bed quietly, as to not bother the brother I knew was downstairs, and the mother I suspected in the room next to me. The cold, stiff linens made me shiver and I rubbed my feet together to get warm as I blew out the candle on the nightstand. Tomorrow would be the start of my new life – I was sure of it.

When I woke up again I found the room bathing in the pale sunlight that shone through the thin curtain. There was no clock, but when I pushed the curtain aside I saw the sun had risen high up in the sky already; it must be around noon. I wasn't used to sleeping in and was surprised no one had woken me up earlier; it took me a moment to realize I wasn't in the orphanage anymore and that the matrons who'd no doubt woken the other children hours ago would not come to wake me anymore. Perhaps Severus had expected me up hours ago – perhaps my mother had, too.

I quickly slipped out of bed and got dressed. I used my reflection in the window to re-braid and smooth my hair as well as I could, then opened the door and made my way down the landing and the narrow staircase.

The door at the bottom was closed but opened easily and I quickly found myself in the sitting room I'd glimpsed the night before.

It was a very small room and with daylight coming in through the window I could see the books lining the walls were very thick, bound in leather and rather dusty, that the sofa and armchair were old and worn and the table with its three chairs rickety. There was a worn-down rug on the bare floorboards, dark with both age and dust, and there was a trace of cobwebs on the wrought-iron candle-holder hanging from the ceiling.

Severus was sitting in the armchair, wearing black trousers and a white shirt and holding a cup of tea in one hand and a book in the other. He seemed completely emerged by the thick volume and didn't look up as I came in.

"Um – good morning," I said carefully, suddenly slightly unsure whether or not to disturb him. He looked up and for a moment didn't seem to recognize me.

"Oh – good morning," he then said in his deep voice. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yes, thank you," I said. "You, too?" I added after a short pause, shuffling my feet on the rug. He nodded, his eyes already drifting back to the page. "Well enough, yes," he mumbled. "There is oatmeal in the kitchen, should you like some breakfast," he then said without looking up from the yellowed pages of his book. "If you need any help getting it…"

"No – no, I can do it myself," I answered, not wanting to bother him. "If you can just tell me where the kitchen is – "

He put down his teacup and waved his hand at the wall behind me; I followed his movement and saw how another hidden door sprung open, revealing white tiles and a scrubbed-down counter with a few cupboards over it. I quickly made my way inside and was happy to find a refrigerator and another small table with three chairs – the cupboards above the counter were too high up for me to reach on my own, but with the help of a chair I managed to find a carton of oatmeal in one of the top ones, and a bottle of milk in the refrigerator. After finding a spoon in one of the drawers and mixing oatmeal and milk I wondered whether I should stay in the kitchen to eat it, but then again Severus was my brother and if we were to be a family we'd better get on with it, so I went back to the sitting room and climbed onto one of the chairs at the table there to have my breakfast.

Severus didn't look up and only sipped his tea from time to time, so I ate my oatmeal in silence as I looked around the room, and when I finished my bowl I got up and went to look at the books, trying to drown out the question pressing in my mind by trying to decipher the titles on the leather backs. Most of the words were faded and a lot of them were too long or too complicated for me to read – the matrons had kept school hours and I got along quite well, but clearly my brother was better learned that the matrons.

When I'd made a round past all the walls and all the books I could reach I couldn't contain myself anymore and sat down on the threadbare couch.

"So um… where is Mum?"

"Hm?" Said Severus absent-mindedly, still glued to his book. "Mum… Oh, she's dead."

I stared at him. Dead? No – no, that couldn't be. She had asked him to get me and bring me here – how could she possibly be dead? And yet he sat there, reading his book without even the slightest hint of him joking, even if it would be a rather poor joke.

"Dead?" I stammered. "W-when?"

"About a week ago now," Severus said in that same absent-minded tone. I shook my head, still staring in miscomprehension. "But… But you said –"

Now he did look up and I saw understanding dawn on his face. "Oh – I'm sorry, Lucy, that was rather tactless – I should have been more careful in telling you." He closed his book and put it on the armrest of his chair. "You'll have quite a few questions… Starting with why you're here when our mother is dead, I suppose?"

If it hadn't been for the understanding on his face and a spark of sorrow in those dark eyes I might have remained frozen, but I managed a feeble nod. He sighed deeply and folded his hands together, supporting himself with his elbows on his upper legs as he turned to me.

"I'll start with that, then. I'll be honest when I say I didn't know about your existence until quite recently. Just over a year ago, our mother became ill and it was her illness that cost her her life last week. It was on her deathbed that she told me about you for the first time. She told me she gave birth to you when I was fifteen and hid you in an orphanage at the Scottish border. It was her plan to go and get you when…" He looked away for a moment and took a deep breath before he continued. "When things here would become more manageable to raise a little girl. Unfortunately such a time did not present itself easily and six years past before tides began to turn – and at that same time she became ill and was physically unable to take care of you. When she knew she was dying she called for me and told me about you. She asked me to go and get you and to take care of you."

He took another deep breath and bit his lower lip. "So that is why I came for you – to honour my – our mother's last request, so you would be raised by family." He ran his hand through his hair before looking at me again. "Do you understand this, Lucy?" He waited, looking at me with those deep, dark eyes until I nodded slowly, biting my own lip. So there was no mother and there would never be. My mother had died before I'd had a chance to meet her... I was surprised how yesterday, with the matrons, I didn't really care whether or not my mother had come for me and yet hearing she was dead, I felt grief and sadness.

"Do you have any other questions?" Severus' deep voice cut through my thoughts and brought me back to the here and now. "Um – well, yes," I said carefully. "What about… about Dad? Is he…?" A shadow fell over Severus' face. "He's gone, too – but there's no love lost, there. You wouldn't have liked him. He was not…" The corners of his mouth twisted in a bitter scowl and he drew another deep breath. "You're lucky you'll never have to meet him."

The scowl around his mouth and the shadow in his eyes frightened me, but still I stretched out my hand and curled my fingers around his. It seemed to startle him and he looked slightly perplexed, but at least it washed that scowl from his face. "So it's just you and me then. That's fine." I smiled and hoped it looked like I meant it.

For a moment we were both silent and I had no idea if he was planning on continuing this conversation or to slip back into his silence again. "You have… you have a lot of books," I eventually said. He nodded. "I do. Do you like books?" I nodded too and was surprised to see that hint of a smile again. "What did you used to read in the orphanage?" "It was mostly Mrs. Carlyle reading them to us – you know, because of the little ones. But it was all sorts of stories, really." I looked around the room, at the walls padded with leather spines. "You must have a lot of stories here."

Severus shrugged. "Hardly, really. Actually, I got most of these for Hogwarts. It's – it's a school," he explained when he saw the question in my eyes. "It's where I work. I'm a teacher."

"Hogwarts." I ran the word over my tongue like candy. "That sounds like a story on its own." Again that hint of a smile. "I suppose it does. There are lots of stories there, so I guess it fits."

I smiled too. "Really? Can I go there one day, too?"

Severus' faint smile faltered and something changed in his face, as if shutters closed behind his eyes. He leaned back in his chair. "Perhaps."

There was something definite in the way he said that one word, but I couldn't think what I could have said wrong. Surely this place of stories – this Hogwarts – could be some common ground, a start to get to know each other? "What do you teach there?" I asked, leaning forward a bit.

The shutters behind his eyes became a brick wall. "I'd rather not discuss it," he said rather curtly. He took up his book again and I felt disappointment as he flipped it open. "Why not? I'd just like to know –" "I said I'd rather not discuss it, Lucy," he said in a sharp voice that did not accept any objection. I closed my mouth and, looking at his sharp profile and the eyes that now firmly looked at the book only, I felt a lump rise in my throat and my eyes grew watery. I'd never been snapped at like that before and I didn't understand. What had I done wrong? Why couldn't I know more about him – he was after all my brother, wasn't he? Didn't he want us to get to know each other, to be a family?

I got up from the couch and went back to my bedroom without a word. Tears dribbled down my cheeks as I sat down on the bed, staring at the bare room.

I had thought that to be taken away from the orphanage meant to be taken into a warm and loving family. I'd thought that behind that stern exterior, there could be no doubt my new brother cared about me, about his little sister and that we could be a family, even when he told me there would be no mother or father. That was how it used to be in the stories the matrons had told him.

Now, sitting here in this bare, cold room, in this strange house in a town I didn't even know the name of, I wondered for the first time if what they'd told us at the orphanage had been nothing but just stories.