Disclaimer: Jo's universe and characters except for Umberto Causidicus. The plot is entirely my own, and I love it. I hope you are loving it, too. Please let me know.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
UT CUSTODIANTE
Poppy arrived back early the next day, despite the late start to her holiday. She eyed both Snape and Potter professionally over breakfast and ordered both of them to the infirmary for check-ups. Potter left as Snape was heading in, giving him a cheerful grin and a wave, announcing he was off to visit Hagrid.
Snape asked about the boy before he was even seated. "He's fine, Severus," Poppy said, patting him, her eyes warming at his concern.
"He's too thin," he complained.
"Yes, well – that's improving, too," she sniffed. "He could use some sun. And what's he doing cooped up here at the castle, anyway? Why isn't he with his friends?" she asked, not directing it at Snape, but just chattering as she set about checking him over.
"You're much too thin, Severus. Why haven't you gained any weight? Haven't you been following the diet I left you?"
He tried to wave her concern away, but she would not let him, her eyes worried. "Severus, you must put on weight. Your muscles have atrophied. You must get well!"
He pulled back, somewhat alarmed by her intensity. "Poppy, I assure you…" he began.
"You are not fine, Severus!" she said, her voice growing slightly more shrill despite her firmness. She continued her scan and her normally professional visage tautened as she checked his stomach and throat. "Why didn't you tell me you were still vomiting?" she demanded angrily.
He shook his head.
"Severus, this is serious! You could do serious damage to your…" She stopped, her face suddenly still. She straightened from her examination of his heart and lungs, and put on a professional smile that he viewed with alarm.
"What is it, Poppy?"
"I'll be right back, Severus. Stay here," she said. He frowned. "Stay here, Professor, or I shall get the headmistress to order you here."
He hesitated, but nodded reluctantly. Moments later, he heard the whoosh of the floo connection in her quarters. Shaking his head, he wondered what had gotten into the woman. He found himself performing a toe-to-head inventory.
His ankle ached, he acknowledged, though other than that his legs felt fine… perhaps a bit out of condition. His stomach still hurt, burned at times, and he uncomfortably acknowledged that his vomiting, while much reduced, was not gone. Was that from snake venom? Or just… upset. Though… he'd been plenty upset – had had more than enough to upset him – before in his life, without vomiting… except in the days immediately following Voldemort's decision to kill the unborn threat, after Lily and James' deaths, and after he'd killed Dumbledore. His stomach burned anew, thinking about it. He tried to make it stop, but it refused to obey his mental command. Not that he expected it to.
His chest hurt. That was the next thing to capture his attention. But that surely was understandable. His mixed grief and remorse made his heart seize when he thought on it; that was all. His wounds hurt from time to time, his wrist particularly, especially when he wrote for long periods or lifted heavy containers, or spent long hours in the lab. He shrugged that off. Expected.
A whoosh announced Poppy's return, Healer Smethwyck following her out of her quarters and across the infirmary. He ordered Snape to disrobe, and Poppy drew the curtains around the bed he was sitting on.
Minerva must have known… Poppy must have told her, which was her right, as Snape's performance as potions master might be affected – or at least because she might have to consider a replacement rather sooner than anticipated. At lunch, the Headmistress pulled out a chair, and he followed the implied command to sit next to her. She patted his leg when he sat down, and kept worried eyes on him. He did not want her to speak, begged her not to with a look, and turned his face resolutely toward the rest of the table where Hagrid, Firenze and Trelawney listened to Sprout's summer report. She had returned early to tend her greenhouses. He hoped Minerva would not say anything to the rest of them. He couldn't bear it.
How much time did he have left, he wondered. A year? Five? Ten? Twenty? Smethwyck did not know, could not tell him, only that his heart was weakened, irreparably damaged, that he'd have to be careful… that he could not expect to live a full span of years – might, in fact, have little time… that the pain in his chest should guide his actions… but… how could they guide his feelings? It wasn't as if he could choose not to feel. That ability seemed to have left him. No more hardening his heart, he supposed – another way his heart was weakened.
No matter – his time was limited, shortened by the venom Nagini had pumped into his veins, and that fact sharpened his senses, so that the sunlight streaming through the windows, Sprout's earthy face, Hagrid's deep laugh, Trelawney's determined individuality, the colors of the Hogwarts crest, the texture of the table under his fingers with its dings and carvings from decades of students, the rich, evocative scents of Firenze, Hagrid, Trelawney, Sprout… all seemed more precious to him… something to be cherished.
He wondered if this was how it had been for Potter, walking into the forest alone, to face his own death. But – that was different. Snape was not alone – Minerva, at least, knew… and Smethwyck… and Poppy… and he had months at least… years probably… maybe… whilePotter had had mere minutes… to cram in all the living he could in those few breaths before Voldemort killed him… before he let himself be slain so that others might live. His heart twinged at that and he turned his mind determinedly away from all of it.
Potter came into the Great Hall then, strode directly to the table, and sat down at the empty space – between Sprout and Hagrid, thank Merlin, rather than next to or across from Snape, those chairs already taken. He didn't think he could have borne it if Potter had sat near him just then – though why that, in particular, would bother him, he did not know.
"Take it with meals," Smethwyck had said about the potion. He had been quite specific. "Full meals, Severus. You must build up your strength. Take it with the meal – not before, not after. At the table." He'd been very specific. Snape sighed. He slipped the vial from his pocket and flipped it open under the table, lifted it to his lips and swallowed the potion quickly. Minerva noticed. He did not think anyone else had. He then dutifully ate, and sternly ordered his stomach to tolerate the potion and the meal. It did not protest, for which he was grateful.
He let the talk of his colleagues and Potter wash over him, soothed by the familiarity of voices and topics, the rhythm of give and take, punctuated by Potter's younger, eager tenor. Minerva directed questions to him, which he answered without registering the conversation, his mind splitting itself in two, one part doing what was necessary, one part lost in contemplation – of what, he was not even certain. He rather thought he might visit Lupin when the meal was done. Maybe the werewolf would have something useful to offer by way of advice… about how to live, or how to die.
Ironic, he thought, that I should live only to die. Of course… He looked around the table. … the same is true for all of us, I guess. We live… we die… The trick is how to live knowing that death will come sooner than expected… Though… not really. He'd expected to be dead several times over, by now.
Like Potter, he realized. Another way we're alike. He listened down the table to where Potter talked and laughed with Hagrid, Sprout and Firenze… listened to the boy living… I can do that, he decided. He pulled his mind out of it, back to the table, the Great Hall, his colleagues, Minerva breathing and living next to him… back to Nearly Headless Nick and the Fat Friar, floating in to greet the professors... back to the taste of chicken and potatoes and gravy. But he would visit Lupin.
After lunch, Potter ran to catch up to him, calling, "Professor! Wait up!" He altered his pace to let the boy catch him. Potter walked slowly through the graveyard, visiting with each of the fifty-four fallen, stopping by Dumbledore's tomb. Snape wondered if he was still debating about the wand, whether he regretted his decision. Did he? He rather thought not. He headed straight for Lupin's marker, wanting to talk without the boy next to him, if only for a few minutes.
"Remus," he greeted the werewolf, "looks like I'll be joining you soon. Sooner than expected, anyway."
He wondered if he could ask the man to wait for him – at that station of Potter's. But no – Lupin had a wife to look after, wherever they were now. He'd have to make that journey alone, then. He pictured the werewolf leaning against his tombstone, arms and legs crossed, his shabby, worn, wrinkled clothing rather endearing now, rather than something to scorn. He shook his head.
"Took me long enough, didn't it, friend?" Another thing to be sorry for, he supposed. "So… what do I do now, eh? What would you do, if you knew your days were numbered?"
Lupin looked at him with that damned knowing, wise smile of his.
Snape waved at him irritatedly. "Something useful, Lupin… or don't you have anything else to offer?"
The werewolf smiled still, and mouthed a single word, whispered it in the breeze, perhaps.
Live.
His heart hurt as if in protest, as if it would be easier to give up, lay down the burden of love and grief… but he looked at Lupin and thought, He'd be here if he could – for his son… for Potter… for Tonks if she were here – and even if she were not. He'd go on living… had always done so, even when it was breathtakingly hard, breathtakingly lonely. Could he, Snape, ask any less of himself?
"All right, Lupin," he murmured. He shook his head and snorted. After a long moment, he repeated, "All right."
He was sitting at his desk looking at some papers when Potter came in shortly before dinner. He slid the papers into a folder and closed it.
"Enjoyed your visit with Hagrid?" he asked the boy.
"Yeah. It was great," the boy said, flopping down on the sofa in front of the fire. "I hope it was okay…"
Snape waved a hand. "It's fine, of course, Potter…"
"Harry."
"Your time is your own until start of term."
He watched the boy for a moment, struck, suddenly, by how odd it all was – Potter… here… stretching out comfortably in front of his – of all places, his – fireplace… How had that happened? He shook his head. His chest hurt – not badly; just enough to notice. He closed his eyes and tried a calming ritual, but his awareness of Potter, images of the boy sitting in his study, eating at his table, sleeping in his bed, in his pajamas, working across his lab table from him, clinging to him for support after a nightmare, kept intruding. He shook his head again, made the images stop with an effort, and opened his eyes to find the boy watching him.
"Professor?"
"I need to make a visit to London," he said.
"What for?"
His hand unconsciously stroked the file of papers. "I need to see my solicitor on business."
"What kind of business?" the boy asked, his eyes bright with curiosity.
"Nothing that need concern you, boy," Snape said, ending in an unintended harsh tone. He shook his head. "Sorry…"
Potter frowned at him. "Are you all right, Professor?"
"Yes… I'm fine."
The boy looked about to say something at that. Snape waved him off. "I wondered if you would like me to pick up your books and supplies for you, as I will be near Diagon Alley."
A frown flitted across the boy's face. He studied Snape for a moment. "Ron, Hermione and I usually meet in Diagon Alley to get our things the week before school begins," he said. "Though…"
Snape saw him consider, obviously drawing the same conclusion Snape had.
"I don't think I want to walk around Diagon Alley when it's crowded, given… given…"
"I quite understand, Potter – and I agree," he said.
"It's Harry, Professor."
Snape grunted. "In any case…"
"Could I go with you?" the boy said suddenly. "We could visit Fred and George…" He cut off, shook his head, and corrected himself. "I mean George and Ron…" His eyes brightened but he mastered himself. "We could visit George and Ron."
"… Certainly – if you can tolerate another day under that cloak of yours," Snape said. "However, my business may take the better part of a day… Why don't you ask if Miss Granger…"
"Hermione's visiting her parents," the boy said, unconcerned. "Maybe I'll ask Neville…"
Snape nodded. "As you wish – as long as you don't wander around alone." He opened a desk drawer, and pulled out a long, narrow box. "My moneybox," he said in response to Potter's curious look. "It's warded. I would like you to have access to it – just in case…" He made a decision and muttered a few words, placing his hand on the box. "Come here, would you?"
The boy stood and walked over to stand next to him. Snape was suddenly aware of the boy – his nearness, the living heat he emanated through the leg of his jeans warming Snape's own chilled leg, the pulse of the boy's heart that he could practically hear, it was so vital. What Smethwyck had told him was sharpening his senses, he decided.
He placed the box on the desk in front of the boy. "Ward it," he said.
The boy looked confused. "Your ward is on it."
"I undid it."
"Why?" the boy asked, perplexed.
"I want you to have access to it, you silly boy. As you undid the access spell I did on the d…" He stopped. The boy was shaking his head.
"I never undid the access spell, Professor."
"I thought…"
The boy shook his head again, blushing slightly. Snape's body did not seem to know how to react to that. On the one hand, his shoulders let go of a tension he had not known they were carrying. On the other hand, his chest seized again, badly enough it was an effort not to clutch at it.
Potter…?
His mind did not know what to do with that, either, apparently, as it seemed blank at the moment. Finally he thought, Well, that simplifies matters, and his mind kicked back into motion.
He looked up at the boy. "I'd like to re-do it – if you're willing."
The boy nodded, the look on his face almost relief, and Snape wondered if he, too, wanted this last step to right the imbalance created when Snape had taken that choice from him. He would not make that mistake again, Snape promised himself.
He opened the money box and pulled out two coins. Holding them in the palm of his hand, he pointed his wand at each one in turn, murmuring, "Reflexio Gemino." Pointing his wand at one of the coins, he continued, "Ut custodiante in exitum Abeona, et custodiante in reditum Adeona." He looked up at Potter. "This is a twinning spell. It connects the two coins…"
He stopped. Potter was nodding.
"What?"
"That's like the charm Hermione used. When we made the DA – Dumbledore's Army. She made coins for us to use, so I could tell everyone when the next meeting would be."
"The Protean charm?"
"Yeah – that's it."
Snape stared at the boy a moment then shook his head, trying not to betray his shock. "You and your friends, Mr. Potter, know far more than you should of magic."
The boy laughed. "Well – Hermione does, anyway."
"Indeed. This spell works slightly differently and is far less complex. The Protean charm transmits changes in the first item to change all others connected to it. This merely connects the two, allowing a signal from one item to a second, if you will. In any case, I'd like you to carry one…" He paused. How had that happened? Heshook his head slightly. "… so that I know you are safe while you wander Diagon Alley, and so you know when I am done with my business."
"What was the rest of it?"
Snape hesitated. But… let there be no secrets… "Ut custodiante in exitum Abeona, et custodiante in reditum Adeona," he repeated slowly. The boy nodded. Snape glanced away, sighed, then made himself meet the boy's eyes.
"May Abeona guard you in your leaving, and Adeona guard you in your return," he said. "It's a blessing – a protection spell… on a child… when they leave home. I…" He hesitated. "We… say it when the students leave Hogwarts for the holidays, or for the summer."
"You do?" The boy looked awed by that.
Snape cleared his throat somewhat uncomfortably. "Every time, Potter."
The boy eyed him thoughtfully.
"Did you think we didn't care, Potter?" he asked.
"No… I just… I didn't know."
"Indeed."
"When you do it on a coin like that…"
"It could be any object… or indeed the child him or herself… but as I would like you to carry one of these…" He stopped, unable to finish for some reason, the depth of his uncertainty, his need to be sure that the boy was, at all times, safe… safe… safe… surprising him with its intensity yet again. Just the thought of it… just the thought of needing to keep the boy safe made his stomach tighten and his chest clench in fear.
How had that happened? he wondered. Had it always been this way, the boy's entire life? Surely not…
Potter stared at him, motionless, his eyes gleaming. Snape hoped the boy would not… what? He wasn't sure, but he was not sure of his own control, at the moment, either.
The boy swallowed. "Thank you, Professor."
He nodded sharply. His need to keep the boy safe… safe… safe… seemed to echo from some not-so-distant past. How had that happened?
The next morning, they stood at the door to their quarters, Potter's hand alone on the door. Snape walked him through the incantation again. "Manus mea meum est. Manu tua tuum est. Sic eligere," the boy said.
Snape nodded and watched as Potter reacted to the withdrawal of the access, knew the boy could feel it in his fingers, saw the shock of the loss of Snape's magic on the boy's face. He held himself still.
"Try it."
The door did not open. Snape looked at the boy. Are you certain?
When Snape nodded at him, Potter smiled shakily, and put his hand back on the door in relief. Snape placed his hand over the boy's, his thumb to the outside of the smaller hand, their fingers interlaced.
This is the gesture.
Gather your intent.
"Manu mea est tuum," he said. "Manu tua meum est." He looked down to meet the boy's eyes. "Eligere." He felt his magic flow through the boy's hand to the door, and the rush of relief at knowing the boy's acceptance of that exchange. His heart twinged, and he did not mind in the least. This he was sure of.
"Sic eligere," Potter said, a small, relieved smile playing about his lips. They stood a moment looking at each other until Snape finally nodded and removed his hand from the boy's. They turned and headed out of the castle, bound for London.
That was Chapter 24 of 30. Continuing...