Tobias woke with a start at dawn. So he had slept eventually. He really had thought he would never be able to. The evenings event, though mostly pleasant had deeply troubled him.
It was one thing to realize Andy was falling in love and guess that he might get married one day. It was another to witness the young man being proposed, and this much love in his eyes. Toby would be hard press to tell which emotions he felt first : happiness, pride, worry or self-pity.
Of course, happiness was the only one he had expressed, even if he hadn't entirely made good job of hiding is misplaced pride. Even Granger seemed to have picked on it. The acknowledgment he had believed to read in her eyes had sent a shiver of pleasure down his spine. Even if she was ignorant of who he was, the approbation on his ability to raise a kid from the kid he'd probably wronged the most had felt like an absolution. But this line of thinking was foolish, as soon as she'd recognize him, she would see matters entirely differently. And he would deserve it, but he was at peace with the idea, he had paid for his sins and he was literally someone else now. He just hoped that he could help her before she connected the dots. He had now doubts that she would at some points, he had seen flickers of the brightest witch of her age still living in the depth of her mesmerizing hazel eyes over dinner.
When on hearth her eyes had gone from haunting to mesmerizing? He was being ridiculous. The love between the boys had been so palpable that maybe it had had some effect on the magic of the assembly and he was now entertaining absurdly romantic notions involving a girl 20 years younger than him that probably hated his guts. Not a girl, a woman. But a married one, with kids. And a serious problem. Probably more than one.
He sighed. Yes, that was definitely the consequences of outburst of love on magic, no doubt. Absolutely nothing todo with the effect the appearance of her long bare legs had had on him, no Sir. All some love Magic Albus Dumbledore was so fond of.
Sid was not a wizard though. And part of Tobias' worry came from that. Andy had been an outcast of the magical community to begin with, and being home-schooled by the most no-maj oriented wizard of the states probably hadn't helped him integrating. So it was no surprise that he eventually fell in love with a muggle. But he feared that it would only increase the immense gap there was between their cultural backgrounds. They sure seem to love each other enough to overcome anything. But young love was a fickle thing. It could burn hot and hard one day and cool down to ashes at the first hardship. And there was no doubt they will have to overcome a lot. Racism, homophobia, pure-blood hatred, they were going to have to face the worse of both worlds. Sid had even mentioned homophobia home. He shuddered. Severus Snape had been a half-blood kid, and yet he'd internalized both hatred of magic and hatred of muggle heritage to the point of calling the one he loved something he'd regret all his life. Sometimes love wasn't enough. It certainly not had been on Lily's part, she never forgave him, and so neither had he forgiven him-self. Not until he died protecting her son. Well, more or less died.
He hadn't thought of that for such a long time that the memories seemed aliens, as if they didn't belong to him. After a fashion, they didn't.
And examining these foreign memories, for the very first time, he wondered. Had it been love at all? Maybe the boy who grew up in a loveless home had mistaken infatuation for the very first human who gave him a sense of belonging for love. Maybe if Lily Evans had love that scrawny boy she called her friend, she would have found it in her heart to understand and forgive. Maybe if he had loved her unconditionally he would never had listened to the sirens of the mad man who openly professed hatred of her kind. But Tobias Prince wondered, what did Severus Snape knew of love?
Not that he had much more experience now about romantic relationships. But he had learn of other bounds. He had learn real unconditional friendship, with Andy's dad in prison first. With Kika later on. Though the crazy woman felt more than a sister than a friend in some ways. And the fact the stray they took care of had always called them aunt and uncle had reinforce that sense of kinship, of family. That was probably the biggest lesson of all. He had no proper family of his own in the conventional sense – confer the lack of romantic involvement to begin with, and they rarely admit it out-loud but Andy and him were family. And there was no doubt of that in his mind and heart of the moment. His little boy was going to leave the nest soon and he wouldn't be able to protect him anymore, it wouldn't even be his role anymore. And he would be alone. Here came the self-pity. He'd never thought he'd understand someday how parents feel when their kid leave the house. Now that was all he could do to keep his dignity and not mop at the thought. It was well and good to allow oneself to feel and love, but there was a limit to everything and he'd grown alarmingly soft with age. If he was going to think about his old self as much, he might as well channel a bit of the billowing coldness of Severus Snape.
As he reviewed the turmoil of thoughts that had kept him awake during most of the night, he went through the motion of his disciplined morning routine. When he sat down on his bolster, he smiled. Meditation would not go amiss that day.
He sure needed to let go of thoughts and clear his mind before talking to Miss Granger. Madam Granger. Granger-Weasley. Hermione. Jean. Jean Snape. Damn the woman. Why had she chosen that name of all?
Deep inhale, deep exhale.
An hour later, a calmer and more composed Tobias was brewing tea for two.
— Unless you'd prefer coffee?
— No, tea is lovely, thanks. It reminds me from home.
The sadness in her tone was unmistakable. He turned is back to her busying him-self with the kettle to refrain the urge of taking her hand. Some people were comforted by contact, but most of those who arrived on his door-step were skittish like wild horses and he had the feeling she would be one of those now that she wasn't as weak as she was the last time he'd soothed her while she cried.
— Do you miss it? She asked suddenly, taking him off-guard.
— I beg your pardon?
— England, I mean.
Did she already know? He smooshed spark of panic deep in his chest. He was being absurd again. The witch was truly going to drive him mad.
— I suppose my accent will never completely wear off, he answered with a lightness he didn't feel.
She smiled. Good.
He handed her her tea, noticing the tremors in her fingers. She would soon be craving her booze. But Kika had gave her something to help with withdrawal before she went to bed and he hoped the talk will go better than the last attempt.
He sat in front of her.
And forced him-self to pronounce the name she had chosen to go by formally.
— Miss Snape.
She flinched at the name.
— Before we discuss your situation, I would like to remind you that you are safe and welcome here. And that whatever you decide, it will be your choice and yours only, and we'll of course respect it. And give you back all your belongings of course, he add as an afterthought.
No need to repeat the panic attack of the previous attempt.
She seemed lost in the contemplation of her tea. It reminded him of her disdain for Trelawnay's teaching when she was a kid. Something he had commended her for at the time, despite her infuriating know-it-all manners, danger-prone habits, and general disregard for rules and personal boundaries.
He shook his head to dispel the memory and the small smile it was bringing. Damn, it was like pandora's box had been open since she arrived. Memories of Snape kept popping up uninvited in his mind.
— Miss Snape, do you by any chance remember us having a similar conversation before Miss Empoko examined you?
Her brow furrowed in concentration for a moment, but she shook her head negatively, still gazing down.
He sat patiently, sipping his tea. He needed her to acknowledge she had a problem and needed help before he could propose anything, otherwise it would not only sound dodgy but it would be utterly useless. You couldn't help people who didn't want it. But he knew that if you give them the opportunity and let them the space to do so without fear of being judged, people asked. Usually they it came just after recounting their story.
Sometimes, it would only take a few minutes before they spill the beans, sometimes a few days. In her case, he thought, that already had been a few days, but she had been out for most of it.
She seemed to have reach some kind of conclusion to whatever argument she was having with herself. She took a sharp inhale, squared her shoulders and lift up her head and looked him in the eyes.
Here it comes, he thought smugly, keeping his face neutral.
— It's not my real name, she confessed.
— I know.
He answered calmly, nodding to prompt her to continue, breathing by his long nose to keep the sigh of relief from showing. That was a good start. Better than he expected and he wouldn't have to call her Snape any longer.
— Do you… she frowned. Do you know who I am? She asked gingerly.
— I do.
— Ho.
And tilt! Here was the muggle-pretense gone. He cheered interiorly but kept his feature blank.
As the silenced dragged on he debated wether to speak or not. She was not a teenage runaway after-all.
— You are after all quite famous, he said at last, gingerly.
— I see.
Her voice was ice cold. He'd make a mistake. She was going to ask for her wand and bolt off. And he'd never see her again. He was not quite ready to acknowledge the pinch in his chest at the thought. But more importantly, she'd was not strong enough yet to go on her own. She would not be safe. He'd let her suffer knowingly once, not able to intervene. He was not going to repeat that mistake.
— Again, you are safe here.
— Why the muggle pretense?
He let his smile spread.
— I could ask the same.
She shot him a killing glance and proceed to examine her surroundings as if she was seing the room for the first time.
She shook her head and sighed.
— I should have seen the details. Muggle appliances but not enough plugs. And a wood-burner in New-York?
He chuckled.
— I reckon you are right on the plugs, I should up my game.
— Why do you do it?
— That way we don't have to keep the No-Maj out-side. The whole building is No-Maj. Most of Andy's friends, his boy… his fiancé even.
— That's not what I meant. Why did you bring me here? Why did you call the Healer? Of course she is a healer.
The last sentence was added for her-self in an exasperated tone.
He was pondering over his next word as he would be over a chess move, but she beat him to it.
— Did you already call them?
— I beg your pardon?
— If you knew who I am… then you must have, why wouldn't you?
She suddenly looked deflated, more l fragile and defeated than angry and suspicious.
— If by « them » you are referring to the Macusa or the Weasley's, no. I didn't. The only ones who knows about your presence here were all present yesterday evening. And none of them have ill-intentions. If that can be of comfort to you, Andy and Malika don't have a clear understanding of who you are—
— But you do, she cut him accusingly.
— Given my origins, yes.
He countered, his tone shorter than he'd like. She was not making it easy for him and he was accumulating mistakes like a rookie.
— Once again, you are safe here.
— But why? Why are you so kind to me?
Without further ado, she burst into tears. Big fat ugly crocodile sobs. It was an unpleasant scene. But tears could be cathartic. And they meant he was closer to his goal.
— Because we have no reason not to be, he said gently, wordlessly accioing a box of tissue to land next to her mug.
She blew her nose inelegangtly.
— I don't understand, she said plaintively, shaking her head. Are you some kind of vigilante organisation?
— Of course, I am the Batman and Andy his my Wonder Boy.
The retort had sprong from his mouth before he could stop it. The idea was so ludicrous.
She stared at him for a moment, incredulity etched over her face, tears forgotten. Then she laughed. A belly laugh. One that came from a place within as deep as the source of her tears. The sound she made was heart-warming. He vouched to make her laugh as often as he could if she chose to stay and heal. She kept on going, and he couldn't help but join her.
When at last they caught their breath, she explained breathlessly.
— I was more thinking along the lines of A.A.
— That would be closer from home, but we are not an organisation of any kind, though Kika is member of plenty of organization, she is the ultimate volunteer and good-doer. I, however, just ended up raising a kid with a big heart and a knack for bringing home broken souls, and the city being what it is, drug use and such were often part of the package.
— And then what? You shelter random people?
— Basically, yes. For as long as they need to get back on their feet. And as long as they respect the house rules.
— So you do have rules.
— Everyone has. But yes, we do, with time we developed a firm set of them. Are you interested of hearing them?
She was still smiling, but her eyes had that sad countenance again. He wanted nothing more than to say something silly to make her laugh again and chase the sadness away. But no was not the time, he was so close of succeeding…
— Can I have my wand back first?
He sighed at the question. That would have been to easy…
— I am afraid not. You just stumbled on the first rule. For wizard and witches that is.
— I thought you said I was free to leave? She jumped on her feet, her tone was indignant, her feature growing cold and determined.
— I demand my wand immediately.
This was the tone of a woman of power expecting to be obeyed without delay or discussion.
He couldn't help but be impressed. Madam Granger-Weasley was every bit as formidable as Severus Snape had been, and she didn't even need dark billowing robes for that.
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