Welcome back, everyone! Chapter 7. Severus and the twins reach an understanding, after Poppy finally loses the plot and knocks Sev out. Enjoy!

Chapter 7: Brothers?

Severus woke once more, to an easing of pain he had not been blessed with in too long to think of. Judging by the bleariness of his thoughts and the unnaturally healthy way he was feeling, he concluded that Poppy had finally cracked and forced a healing coma on him. She'd only done that once before, the first night he'd come back to Hogwarts after joining the Dark Lord, and only then because she'd caught him by surprise. He avoided them like the plague. There was simply no way of telling what had been done to you when you were unconcious and helpless. He never took that risk if he could help it. Which meant whatever his encounter with the mutt had done, it was enough to dull his reactions.

He struggled up, taking in his surroundings. The same room as before, same bed, same odd, pervasive smell. In his unfocused state, it was the potions master that kicked in first, and he found himself analysing the smell, its permutations, and possible source. Out loud. Idly, he listened to himself, listing the aspects of the scent, and the ingredients that would cause it. He came to the conclusion that it was an adaption of Harmonia Draught, with poppy extract instead of wheat flower, and it was not a sanctioned brew, by the burnt cinder overlayer that signified an illegal fire.

'Woah! You can tell all that from the smell? That's out of this world!'

Startled, and more than a little worried that he hadn't detected the approach, Severus turned to look at the twin awe-filled faces, watching as the surprise turned to calculation in their eyes. 'Messers Weasley, to what to I owe the dubious honour of your presence?' he asked wearily, a hint of smirk twitching his mouth. For some unfathomable reason, he'd always liked the trickster twins, despite their affectation for pranks that reminded him uncomfortably of his younger days. But then, any child of Molly's that engaged in that kind of casual cruelty would have been fast cured of further desire for it. And he admired their persistant, if unorthodox, brilliance.

They shifted a bit, and grinned conspiratorily. He raised his eyebrows. 'Well, sir, we're sorta ...'

'Guarding you.'

'Right. To keep people from disturbing you.'

'But we thought ...'

'While you were up ...'

'That you might like to use some of your spare time ...'

'To help us with a little project of ours. Only if you're up for it, of course.'

'We thought that you might like ...'

'Seeing as how you're so good with potions ...'

'To give us a hand.'

It was like watching that muggle sport ... tennis. The words were passed from mouth to mouth like a ball from bat to bat, flow unbroken, coherence intact, one thought in two heads. It was a touch intimidating, and a touch ridiculous, and very efficient in confusing their target. Well, it would be, if the target hadn't been him.

'Am I right in assuming that this project would have absolutely nothing to do with the field-lab that was so obviously set up in this room?' he asked dryly. 'That you haven't been brewing new potions illegally under this roof? I'm not going to be taking part in anything ... unsavoury ... am I?' The dark little voice in the back of his mind laughed at that, but he put it aside.

'Oh no sir!'

'Nothing like that!'

'Course not!'

He grinned. 'Pity, then. I was so looking forward to some fun.' They blinked, but they were nothing if not smart, and caught on quick.

'Of course ...'

'We could show you our other project, if you'd prefer?'

'The one the Ministry are a bit iffy about.'

'Pure calummy, of course.'

'Nothing wrong with a little experimenting.'

'Not at all, eh, sir?'

He laughed. 'Of course not. But to be on the safe side, how about if we ... forget ... to mention things to your mother?' A pair of brisk nods, and he struggled out of bed, aided casually by the twins. He flinched a bit at their touch, but they diplomatically ignored it, and soon he was up and away to their 'secret laboratory, you know, like in Frankenstein?' He shook his head. Loki reborn, these two.

He fell into the rhythm of the brew like a bird in captivity returned to the air, despite his missing limb. A half an hour spent perusing their formulas and ingredients, and he saw their intent laid out like a fluid diagram in his head. It had a beautiful simplicity, a liquid shield that could be imbued into an object, layered over with hints of Harmonia and NightBalm to calm and befuddle the attacker. He was swiftly enamoured with its design, its preparation, and flowed into the brewing with willingness. They moved around him, a perfect team, adapting their instinctive two-part harmony to accomodate him, and his weaknesses, so that the three of them worked like an oiled mechanism together. It was simply perfect, and he felt an easing in his fears that had nothing to do with lack of cause, merely that he now felt that he had someone to help him. He joined this intimate dance and let fear be.

'Professor ...'

'Can we ask you something?'

He smiled, movements unhalted. 'You already did, yes? But carry on.'

'You do realise ...'

'That Mum and Dad have totally adopted you?'

'You're like a Weasley now.'

'So we were wondering ...'

'Will you be staying with us for a while?'

He stilled momentarily, uncertainty rushing back. 'I don't know,' he answered softly. 'I may not be permitted to. There is so much ... I have too many responsibilities ... I may not be free to choose. I would ... I would like to, if only for a little while, but ...'

They moved in around him, twin walls of strength and comfort. They each laid a hand on one of his shoulders, supporting him in a way no-one ever had, simply standing there. Despite everything, he could not help but feel safer, sandwiched as he was between them. He felt so young, like he was suddenly back at school and they helping him. He wondered if that was what it felt like to have brothers.

'Sir, if you want to stay ...'

'Then all of us will move heaven and earth to make it happen.'

'The way Mum is now, not even Fudge would stand up to her.'

'She and Dad completely cowed the rest of the Order into submission.'

'Even Dumbledore was quaking in his boots.'

'Besides, we could use your help.'

'We've got a shop to run, in competion with some of the greatest potions-makers in the world, and we could use you.'

'We pay pretty good.'

'Great hours.'

'You'd meet some pretty cool people.'

'And it'd be fun.'

'Only if you're up for it.'

'No pressure, or anything.'

'But we do have this big sale next week ...'

'Could use your help.'

'What do you say?'

He laughed delightedly. He really couldn't help it. They didn't know what they were offering, so casually. A job without strings, a freedom he'd never had, and a family, all in one. And they meant it. He could tell when someone lied to him. They were completely sincere in their offer. He didn't know whether to jump at them in gratitude, or back away before he got them hurt. He always did that. Anyone who'd ever tried to help him had gotten hurt. Dobby, back when they'd both been Malfoy's playthings, to Poppy, who cried at night because of him and his constant injuries. She shouldn't have seen those things, what Lucius had done, even in his school days, but he'd been young and foolish enough then to seek help, and she'd kept after him ever since, looking out for him even when it hurt her. He couldn't let these boys be hurt like that.

'Don't even think it, sir.'

'Don't back away.'

'We don't know what they did to you ...'

'But that's not going to happen again.'

'Not when all of us will protect you.'

'We don't care what your past was ...'

'We just want you to be safe.'

'After all ...'

'We can't let anyone else get to the greasy git of Hogwarts before we do ...'

'So take it easy. We're here for you.'

'It's a Weasley thing.'

'Ok?'

He sighed. Was it a Weasley thing to make it impossible for others to resist what you say? Molly had passed that gift to her sons, anyway. But maybe ... for a little while ... it would be good to be safe ... useful. Despite his flaws, all the more obvious now, they welcomed him. For once in his life, maybe he could simply make a choice because he wanted to. Maybe he could try.

'So. These hours? And exactly how much are we talking about?'

They laughed. 'Well, perhaps we can come to some arrangement, seeing as how you're family, and all. Say ... 3 galleons an hour?' He laughed back. He did enjoy a good haggle.

Well? Sorry for the slow update, but here we are now. What do you think? R&R?