I know I am behind on one of my updates; it seems unwritable, and this one was demanding to be written so... ~ SS19

Bumblebee Blood
Chapter 25

Next week brought far colder evenings and a layer of crisp snowfall around the grounds of Hogwarts, though the twirling white flakes had not penetrated the clouds above London as Severus, bundled up in a near ridiculous amount of clothing, held the door open for the Headmaster who had - for yet another year - decided that Muggles needed to be educated in the height of fashion in bright silver robes with a navy trim. Katarina, all beaming smile and brilliant warmth, sat them out of the way to stop the strange looks. "This, I know, is a special occasion! Another year, Severus!"

Discarding of his outer cloak and loosening his collar just slightly, Severus regarded her with a neutral expression, "Another year yes, and still, still Albus is here." He pulled his scarf from his neck, "I think that is more of an achievement." He sat down and Albus saw the expression cross Katarina's face - she covered it, heading away to fetch their usual wine, and Albus quickly offered to Severus, "Excuse me a moment, dear boy." Severus was distracted by the menu, a frown appearing across his usually smooth brow as he considered the bright red and green cardboard supplement adorned with drawings of holly and berries and announcing through printed letters the 'superb Christmas specials'. Satisfied Severus was occupied, Albus placed a hand on Katarina's elbow as she turned to him with a raised eyebrow. "I know you would not - but please do not mention the gloves. Severus injured his hand and he is self conscious about it." Her gaze sharpened as her eyes narrowed, "He injured himself?"

"He was injured - Katarina, he is fine - but he is astutely aware of anyone acting out of turn around him." Albus conjured a smile, "He is very excited to be here tonight, not that you would immediately know. He enjoys your company, as much as I have seen enjoy anyone else's." She continued to regard him and there was that hint of questioning once more, "You look tired, Albus."

"Troubled times, Katarina. Troubled times. You know, of course." He let his smile fade, as her face changed too, "Of course - of course you know. Katarina - I am sorry - a thousand apologies - "

She was the one to fake the smile this time, "A long time ago, Albus. Consigned to memory and nothing more. Severus is now looking for you." Indeed, the dark haired wizard had glanced behind him to where they were conspiring, and Albus squeezed her arm, "Remember, anything you need -"

"I know who to ask. Thank you, Albus. Now - here is the Merlot - see if Severus can look even a little more relaxed, perhaps?"

He paused next to Severus' chair and attempted an awful impersonation of a French accent, reminiscent of his days spent in Paris with Nicholas, "Your drink, Monsieur." He chuckled at Severus' incredulous expression even as he poured a sizeable amount of the liquid into their glasses, noting with a little warmth that the softest smile had seemingly twisted Severus' mask as they both grasped the wine receptacles. "A toast, Severus - because, as per tradition, it is far too early to celebrate your birthday and yet we do so, anyway." He kept the glass back even as Severus moved to finish the toast, "I want to toast you, and your incredible strength and intelligence."

Severus' gaze moved to the rim of his glass, rather than Albus, "Now you are expecting a compliment in return."

"Not entirely, Severus."

"I toast..." Severus' sentence hung, unfinished, and Albus did not wish to interrupt nor hurry him, seeing some consideration and thought behind those dark eyes, before, "Finding what was much missed." Those eyes caught Albus' as he completed the words and had they been tangible they would have been hands, gripping his heart and twisting with some bemusing affection, "I will toast to that, my boy."

The chinking was followed by two sips before Severus gestured to the menus, "You have not chosen what you want to eat."

"Ten years!" They were both startled by Katarina, "I have just realised, this is the tenth year you have been here in December!" Her grin, as she deposited a basket of bread onto their table, infected even Severus, "Yet neither of you seems to age! Well." She paused and considered Albus, stood beside Severus, "Maybe...maybe one of you does." She turned her attention back to Severus, who half laughed at Albus' incensed expression, "Now, Severus. Are you not too warm?" Severus looked up at her, and Albus saw his hand twitch to curl into more of a fist, but Katarina had not even glanced at his hands, "What is this - a shirt, and a jumper - let me guess, a vest underneath too?"

"Ms Lox - please - I do not need to be fussed over - I - well - " He gestured to Albus and she laughed both genuinely and warmly, "This is true - you are well looked after, I am sure!"

Something very solid seemed to constrict Albus' throat and now he was very focused on the menu, and the ever perceptive Severus did not allow this to escape his notice nor consideration, "So, Albus will be having the lobster, and me the stroganoff, and I am paying." Albus did not lower the menu immediately and Katarina understood Severus' intervention, "Are you in a hurry, Severus, or is a leisurely pace acceptable?"

"That is perfect - there is nowhere I would rather be." He waited a few moments before prodding Albus' wrist, just once, "Stop. Melancholy is my realm, not yours." He leaned closer, "Albus - you cannot protect me from everything."

"I know, my boy. I know."

"We are safe here, and among friends. Please focus on that." Since when had he become the wiser reassuring one of their pair, "So, I suppose I have to celebrate the actual day earlier, this year?"

"Pardon?" Albus raised his head, curiosity interrupting his brooding, just as it could Severus. Severus gestured to the restaurant around them, "This - 1st January, your letters said. Not 9th January."

"Of course - I had not really considered that - that would be your choice, Severus." Albus sat back in his chair and now his wizened face was reflective, "I remember - it was - it was a very strange night. There are fragments I remember in total clarity, as vivid and real as you sitting before me here now, and other parts I could not even begin to describe." He shook his head, "Very odd, memory."

A lingering silence.

Then.

"Tell me."

Albus regarded him, "What?"

"...Tell me." Severus fidgeted with his glove before catching himself and clearing his throat, "I...would like to know...more. Whatever you would like to tell me. I'd like to hear it."

Albus clasped his hands together on the table before him, "Are you attempting to evaluate or conclude something, my boy? It is rare for you to request superficial details?" He watched Severus drink his wine and although the silence was not uncomfortable, it was not as comfortable as it had been before. Severus eventually returned the glass to the coaster, lined the coaster up with his placemat, and straightened the cutlery on his lurid green napkin before, "I just - I feel this curiosity, this longing, to ask you, and to listen. To ask you about me and what you wanted and what it was like and - I do not know if I am evaluating or attempting to understand myself more - I just - I have questions and I want answers, but I do not really know why. Believe me, it is maddening."

"Then perhaps asking one of these questions may help me, Severus."

As something of a distraction, Severus chose a piece of bread and ripped it in two, "Fine. First question - it wasn't love, was it?"

Albus observed the piece of bread being squeezed and twisted by unconsciously nervous fingers, "No." He would be honest, of course, "It was not." He moved his clasped hands so he could rest his beard and chin atop them, "It was better than that." He knew Severus was weighing up this information from the way he chewed one half of the bread, "Severus, you were - created - in a moment of incredible kindness. Your mother - Morgan - she was very kind. To me."

Severus swallowed, "You said you were foolish, when you first told me about the child."

"I was foolish. That does not mean it was a mistake, nor that I regret it, nor that it was not kind. She was light in what was a very dark place at the time, Severus."

"What did she look like?" Attention focused once again on the bread.

"Dark hair, like yours - her eyes told stories that her voice did not - she listened, and her eyes always seemed to understand - and - she was soft." Albus flushed at his choice of adjective as Severus glared up at him, "That's not the image I wished to provide, Severus - I meant - she was gentle. This is difficult for me. I am worried you will feel I used her, and that you are the product of some mistake."

Severus crumpled the bread in his fist, "That is how you described it."

"No!" Albus' raised voice attracted some attention and he leaned forward instead, "Severus, you are not - and you were not - a mistake. I knew that the moment I held you."

"I am a mighty inconvenience, Albus." Severus chewed his bottom lip, "Even I know that - I told you - the child was a - strategic flaw. I even told the Dark Lord that. I know what I am."

"Not now I know how powerful you are, Severus." Albus managed a smile to show that he was joking, "You were most certainly not a mistake."

"You - held - me?" Severus whispered, and Albus was struggling to keep up with the train of thought here, "I did. For a considerable amount of time. I have never forgotten that feeling - like being complete - I cannot describe, no matter how vivid it is, the light and the warmth and the blossoming of something I had never felt before, and, have not felt since. All from the little infant in my arms...infant you. And your eyes. My eyes." He knew his voice had grown slightly thicker as their gazes - still not as they should be - met across the table, and he was going to complete the sentence when Severus chose to do so for him, "Our eyes."

Albus' aforementioned eyes were watering and hot and he coughed and was glad of the interruption of Katarina as she deposited plates before them and Severus took charge of the conversation, brilliantly polite and amicable, as he willed the treacherous tears to disappear in the warmth of the restaurant. Severus did not disturb his desperate attempt, not immediately anyway. "I was thinking of Egypt, earlier. One of my potions uses the cinnamon I bought there, do you remember, that market stall with the strange trinkets you were very determined to touch?"

"Hmmm." Albus' monosyllabic sound of affirmation replaced a voice he knew would not be steady yet, and at the same time he hoped Severus would continue with his soft words. It was rare for Severus to reminisce. "I thought - when this is all over - we should go back. When I was little," This was a sentence starter Albus had never heard fall from Severus' lips before and he knew everything in him froze, even as Severus carried on, voice peculiarly casual, "I used to imagine having someone I could go with. Tomb exploring. My mother had lots of books on ancient Egypt and I loved the idea - the pharaohs and the gods and the mythology." His fork toyed with the mountain of rice on his plate, "Katarina clearly thinks I have lost weight, as this is a lot of rice."

Albus chuckled but he did not want to lose this train of conversation, "What - what else did you - did you think about? Or do? When you were...small?"

"Read?" Severus supplied, "Not that it should be a surprise to you. There were the swings; Lily and I -" The slightest twinge on the first name, "We spent a lot of time on the swings. I never much cared for them but she liked them. But I read a lot more. I read everything about Hogwarts. I read everything about you. The great Albus Dumbledore, who would offer me my place at Hogwarts and would be there to oversee me..." He put his fork down and shook his head, "I had such dreams. Childish."

"I want to hear them. What did you dream?"

There was the faintest flush to Severus' cheeks and for a very, very long time he did not reply, and Albus did not feel he was able to ask again. Katarina cleared their plates with some innocuous chatter that Albus responded to, but his attention never truly left Severus who seemed very much lost in his reverie. It was only mid way through desert when the conversation resumed and Albus very much assumed that Severus would not reply to his question and would change the subject, but instead, it was a reply. "I dreamed I was going to be the best wizard Hogwarts had ever seen, and that I would impress even the great Albus Dumbledore." For the first time in a good portion of their meal, Severus met his gaze, "I still hope to achieve the latter."

"You have more than achieved the latter, Severus. Many times over."

There was that gentle smile again, "Maybe this is so; perhaps I should change it to - I wish to surpass the great Albus Dumbledore."

Albus laughed, "That, my boy, I think a little more far-fetched."

Almost three weeks later found them sat atop Albus' private tower, Severus huddled under a thick cloak because it was cold, and Albus sat on a rapidly transfigured chair to ease aching bones. They were both watching the stars twinkle back at them. Albus caught Severus' attention, "Do you see, there, where I am pointing? Those two groups of stars - one slightly smaller than the other, but following the same pattern?"

Severus followed the pointed finger to the pair of almost jagged lines he assumed Albus was pointing to, echoing each other in their sharp points and gentler joiners, "I see."

"Those are the magicians." Albus supplied, amused at Severus' cynical frown, "How are they magicians?"

"Well, Severus you know the constellations do not always match their given names. Would you like to hear the story?"

"I suppose I have no choice, Headmaster." Severus pulled his cloak tighter around him and adjusted his cross legged position on the cushion, "Go on then." He closed his eyes.

"Well - the two magicians - you saw how their shapes were complementary? How they mirror each other? One always following in the other's wake? Story is that the two magicians fought their way across the sky to be reunited at the height of all the constellations; never wavering or yielding, and that they echo each other because that is how they find success and vitality. Anywhere else in the sky, individually, they would be just a pattern. There, they make sense."

Albus thought he might have got away with it as for five seconds, Severus was very quiet and did not appear to have reacted.

Then he dissolved into the laughter that Albus heard so rarely, "That is the biggest cauldron of shit I have ever heard, Albus, forgive my language." He looked to the Headmaster, "I realise you have some bizarre obsession with metaphors and every story you tell has to have one, but really?"

"Do not curse the proverbial messenger, Severus, I was just telling you the story - I am sure you will find it very memorable. You mark my words it will be something you remember." Albus reached down beside his chair, "Now, here is your birthday gift - happy birthday, my boy." He passed the bright orange parcel to Severus who moved closer to accept it with a small incline of his head and a genuine sentence of gratitude. "More practical I feel, this year, than sentimental, you will be pleased to know." Albus leaned forward as Severus unwrapped the gloves he had acquired, hoping they would be a better fit and more comfortable than the poor substitutes Severus was currently wearing. From the smile and the enthusiasm at which Severus removed one of his current gloves, he knew it to be correct - they were black, of course, but with a subtle flash of gold across the top of the glove where it would be hidden under Severus' sleeves. Gold had always been Albus' favourite - although he had learnt never to truly trust it. He watched as Severus moved to remove his other glove, and when he revealed the damaged flesh he held up his own hand, "Let me see, please?"

Severus offered his wrist, which Albus inspected in the dim moonlight, "Does it hurt?"

"No - and it seems no worse - I do not understand why he did it, if not to torture me." Severus frowned at his hand and arm, uncomfortable at seeing the black and red and purple flesh. "And no summons either, since - what is he planning, Albus?"

"I do not know, my boy. What will you do when he does?" Every time he asked, he hoped the answer might change, but still it remained, "I will go to him. You know I will. You know I have to. It is the only way, while we know I can still try, to protect you." Severus hid his hand under the new gloves and flexed and curled his fingers, "These are excellent, Albus, thank you."

"They very much suit you." He hesitated, and Severus sensed the pause, "Was there something else?"

"Yes." Albus straightened his back, "I thought you might like - I thought I would offer - you could - see - the memory. If you so wished. The one we spoke about at Katarina's."

Severus, kneeling before the chair, narrowed his eyes, "That is very private, Headmaster. I - why would you offer?"

"It is part of your history, Severus. I would like you to see and to know how wanted you were. I think it would make a difference to how you perceive things. Only if you want to."

Severus nodded as his reply. Albus cast any other memories aside. "Be careful, Severus - I am not as accomplished at Occlumency as you are."

"You do not have to do this, Albus - it is not something I need - "

"I want to. I owe you this much. Please, Severus. Just watch."

Their gazes locked, and Severus murmured the spell beneath his breath.

Instantly he was in a room, where there was very little light, and very little noise to accompany. He expected to see Albus, but instead there was just a cot - wooden and painted and very plain - he moved closer to it - and wrapped in blankets - was -

The door opened, and two voices came through first, "I am very sorry about your wife. There was nothing we could do"

"She was not my wife." Albus' voice sounded stretched and pained and beyond anything else, endlessly tired, "What of the child?"

The mediwitch gestured, "The child survives, and is perfectly healthy. You have a son." She reached down to the infant Severus and picked him up, and Severus watched himself stir but not cry - "Do you want to hold him?" He turned his attention back to Albus who appeared to be paralysed at the other side of the room, unable to take his eyes off the bundle, before there was a sharp and jagged nod. She crossed to him and placed the baby - Severus - into his arms and continued to talk to him, but Severus did not hear the words. Instead he watched the expression on Albus' face morph from one of fear and reluctance and panic to - to something perfectly soothed, to something perfectly relaxed - to something utterly calm, but at the same time not devoid nor neutral. It was - he did not even know how to place it and he realised it was because he had never felt anything like this himself. He moved closer in the memory toward the father and the son and looked down at himself - and for a moment the baby seemed to make eye contact with him though Severus knew it was just a reflection of the memory and not real - but those blue eyes he looked at were still his - still Albus' -

"He certainly has your eyes, sir."

He saw Albus tighten the grip, the hold, comforting and possessive in the same moment, "He's perfect." The voice was nothing more than a whisper, yet even murmured syllables could still hold such power and Severus felt the very outlines of the memory shake and tremble with Albus' own emotions and he thought he should remove himself there and then but something made him stay - the Albus in the memory made him stay - because Albus raised his smallest finger and brushed it against baby Severus' smaller clenched fist and the sheer tenderness of that gesture, more so than he had felt for so many years as a child, broke something inside him. He pulled himself out of Albus' memories with a jerk, bowing his head to hide his tears. A shaking hand touched the side of his face and then cupped his cheek and jaw softly and he moved his own hand to grasp it and hold it even as he battled his own sobs, shoulders quivering, needed the comfort of the old hand even if he could not feel the skin. He forced himself to look up - not surprised to see the mirror of tears on Albus' face - and the question he most wanted to ask wrestled itself away from the pits of his heart and instead ended up on his lips and then hung, aloud, between them. "Why didn't you keep me?"

Albus shook his head, "I do not know."

"Do you wish you had?"

"Yes. Yes I do. With every day that passed, from then to now."

"I saw the expression on your face - you loved me - even in those moments." He spoke earnestly and he would not break the gaze, "You - you saw everything - "

"I did."

"You loved me."

"Always, my son."

The word washed over him, and he did not know how he felt - because he had never felt it before - nothing of this intensity - and he knew he could not stand it - and he wanted to run, to hide - and -

And Albus knew that of course. "I am very tired, Severus. May we call it a night?"

Severus looked at him, and yes, Albus did look tired. He nodded a wet smile. "Yes. Yes, of course - thank you - for showing me that - I - I think I can start to understand." He stood, and helped Albus to do so too, "I have so much to say, but I do not know how to do so."

"Then find the words when you are ready, Severus, and I will be here to listen." Albus squeezed his shoulder, "It took me that long to find the words for you." He drew a bright magenta handkerchief from his robe and swept it across Severus' cheeks, amused at the blush and pleased to be ending on a lighter note, "That's better, bat of the dungeons." He had never known his voice to be so affectionate.

"Sleep well, Albus."

Severus closed the door to his office and private chambers and leaned against it, seemingly exhausted and invigorated all at once. He thought, once more, about the use of the word 'son'. Clearly Albus had been planning that, but it had also felt very natural. Like he had said in his head, millions of times. Should Severus had reciprocated, he realised suddenly - he had not thought of it - what would he call to choose Albus, if Albus asked? Father felt too formal and too - too - negative, he settled on - but was anything else too familiar? Too familiar for a man who had known him for twenty six years, and for around thirteen of those had been the closest thing to an actual paternal figure Severus had ever known. He exhaled and pushed away from the door, heading toward his desk when something new caught his attention.

A note, from Minerva. 'This arrived with the evening post, Severus - I hope you enjoyed your star gazing! Never had you down for an astronomer! Minerva.'

It was a letter. Severus opened it distractedly, still trying out sentences in his head, "Thank you, dad." It did not feel right. It did not feel - him - but then he had never practiced the word, in that form, he had never used it - it had always been 'father' and only really in the context of mentioning him to others - he was about to read the letter, just as something fell to the floor before his feet. It was what appeared to be a mass of red and silver. He held it up and it dangled as it untangled - something he had never seen before - a lion pendant, although a piece appeared to be missing - hanging from a light silver chain. Something prompted a memory - "The last part of the lion" - this was what Albus had given to the infant, and had kept one piece of. Where had this been, all this time?

He picked up the letter, and started to read.

Severus. I hope this finds you well, on your 35th birthday. I followed the method your mother used to use. I wanted to have a conversation with you in light of recent events. I thought perhaps we could visit your mother's grave together, tomorrow, if you have the time? This is your first birthday without her. Also, I found this while going through the house - I believe it is yours. With kind regards, T. Snape.

I am wearing the sweetest smile you ever did see - honestly... ~ SS19