La Symphonie d'Amour
Demeter
Part 1: Beginning
Warnings: Slash. Remus and Severus pairing. A heavy dose of angst and dark themes. But also snogs galore and waffy romance. Also includes Harry/Draco, Hermione/Ron, Percy/Oliver, and a host of couples that I don't want to take the time to list. Therefore; if you don't like slash, don't bother reading.
For the snapeslash list challenge set by JayKay.
"Make Severus Snape do the chasing and having someone be chased." ^__^ my sort of fun.
Disclaimer: All rights and privileges to Harry Potter are trademarks and property of J.K. Rowling, Scholastic, Warner Brothers, Bloomsbury Books, Raincoast Books and associated parties. The author claims no legal responsibility for problems associated with using this work. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. The original story and characters and relationships within the fic are copyright of Demeter.
*NOTE* Due to a few well-placed comments and my own realization that the editing job on this fic was even shoddier than I had thought, I re-re-edited this and I hope even more that it's slightly more readable. This is its sixth reincarnation. *grins* Thanks to Zebee for the total rocking beta help!
~*~*~*~*~*~
If there was anything Severus Snape hated more than Harry Potter, it was Valentines Day.
Evil.
Putrid.
Sickeningly sweet.
Pink.
With a barely-concealed shudder, Severus Snape, Potions Master of Hogwarts, Head of the illustrious Slytherin House, and all-around nasty guy strode through the darkened hallways, hoping to catch a student – preferably Potter – out of bed so his wand could sing out the loss of points. Even more preferably; a month of detention with Filch.
Voldemort's reign of terror was still in the backbone of the magical community. Everyday, there were new disappearances, usually of those on the edge of society. It was like a circle: the Death Eaters started on the outer rim and were making their way to the center.
The wizarding world had been regulated back toward another era of jittery calm and – sneer – falsified peace, thanks to the ever-so heroic magical powers of one, Harry Potter, and the bumbling Ministry. The official stand was still "No Voldemort" and Harry was still revered as the one who had managed to defeat Voldemort in his youth. Of course, the news that the Daily Prophet was concerning itself with now was the fact that the 'Prince' had chosen his 'Princess' already.
Draco Malfoy.
The Prophet was gushing over and over about how he had conquered the barriers of their sex and chosen his true love rather than follow society. How wonderful! How touching! Snape growled. Potter had triumphed on the proverbial rock… and he still couldn't manage to create a satisfactory shrinking potion!
All in all, very aggravating to Severus Snape, The One Who Loathes Harry Bloody Potter.
It didn't help that because it was Harry Potter's last Valentine, the venerable but admittedly stupid and idiotic Dumbledore had decided to let the two great (worthless) and kindly (mean-spirited) godfathers enjoy Potter's Valentines day and to celebrate Potter's engagement to Draco Malfoy. For the next few days, until the actual unholy morning, he would be stuck watching over a group of horny teenagers.
Snape swore loudly, startling several portraits into full-glaring glances. He ignored the hissing and concentrated on the wonderful mental image of his hands wrapping themselves around Harry Potter's – admittedly sexy – little throat and squeezing the life out of the scrawny hero who had taken his best student from him!
Damn Potter!
Damn Sirius Black for that matter!
And damn Re… well, perhaps not, since he rather liked – though he would die before admitting that – the werewolf. Perhaps it stemmed from his own masochistic tendencies to have strong, attractive feelings toward people who threatened danger toward his physical and mental well-being.
Wonderful. I want to bang the werewolf. Not 'a' werewolf, but 'the' werewolf.
Thoughts now decidedly sour and sweet, he ventured toward his ultimate destination, the reason why he was still in the open at this ungodly hour in the evening. Damn it. He wanted to be in the dark, dank parts of his dungeon rooms.
A summons from Dumbledore.
Never mind that this was his private time. Never mind that he would have infinitely preferred a tall decanter of aged brandy, settling in with a volume of Poisonous Potions through the Potion Ages, maybe even a divan draped over his decidedly bony legs.
Glaring down at his robe-hidden 'legs' he swept into the narrow hallways that led to the steep staircase, which led to the gargoyle, which led to his muttering the password that led Severus Snape into the warm and cheery chambers of one Albus Dumbledore.
He hadn't always dreaded these impromptu meetings.
There had been days, bad days, when these chambers had been the only sanctuary he could stand. When the blackness had gotten too black, even for him; these rooms had provided a light and warmth that no fire could possibly compare to.
Always, when he entered, he would remember darker times – it made current times all the better because he could believe that things could still improve – when he raved in madness, in hurt, trying to forget, willing to remember. There had been so few memories that he had wanted to keep that sometimes it took a great deal of shifting to find those cherished pieces.
And of course, he looked at the circular room as his redemption. He had come in the dead of night, in the middle of a school year, with nothing left to lose, nothing more to gain, just deadness, shrieking insanity that threatened to consume him when he closed his eyes for more than a minute. Snape remembered the clawing trees, the wailing of whatever blasted birds were on the grounds, each screaming that it was his fault.
Bah.
With that inelegant snort, he raked a slim hand through his slightly oily hair and opened the door to the inner chambers.
Only to find Albus Dumbledore sitting with a maddening twinkle in his silvery, always ageless eyes… and a nervous-looking Remus Lupin and a partially sneering Sirius Black.
Any normal person, on encountering his former arch-rival, the half-man, half-beast who had tried to kill him, any normal person would have at least flinched, backed away, or even just stared.
But not Severus Snape.
He hesitated only the barest fraction of an second, unnoticeable by even the great Headmaster Dumbledore, and sat himself primly into the other vacant chair, his dark eyes boring intensely into the white figure before him, daring the older man to even start speaking.
When was the last time all four were in this room together? Oh, wait, never. Because the last time the four had ever been involved in an event together was the Shrieking Shack where Sirius tried to kill him, where Remus did kill him in a way, and Dumbledore had written the whole thing off as a bloody prank. How many years ago was that? Twenty? Twenty-five?
Snape was relatively sure he considered that the last time he would go within one hundred feet of Sirius Black again. Of course, fate – sneer – always liked to pull him into the deep end of the water.
"Ah, Severus! Welcome! Tea?"
Snape nodded slightly and Dumbledore immediately set to providing a cup of hot, delicate tea that would warm and thaw out his frozen senses for the time being.
Remus Lupin was in the room!
"Headmaster." He saw Dumbledore pause ever so slightly at his formal usage of his title. Inwardly, he grinned maliciously. That would unsettle the old man. Snape only bothered to call him Headmaster when he was angry… or worse, hurt and uneasy.
"Yes, Severus?"
"If I may ask, what is the purpose of your summon? They were urgent." Snape twisted his head in the direction of the two former Marauders and he risked a glance at Lupin. The man was better looking than in Potter's third year, but not by much. Both he and Black were still gaunt, weary, dirty-looking. Without a break in his sour expression, he responded to the unnamed question in the air.
"What does this meeting have to do with Black and Lupin?" Good, good. Calm and cool. No expression. No response to their presence. Better to annoy Black with indifference than hate.
"That was what I was about to speak of. You do know that Remus and Sirius need a few weeks in the castle due to security precautions… Of course, Remus needs the potion and I need them to reside in the dungeons with you for the duration of their stay at Hogwarts."
Snape could have sworn birds chirped for the moment of horrified silence that he allowed to wash over the room.
Stay with him? A werewolf and former ex-convict? Was Dumbledore finally teetering on the edge of lunacy and prepared to take Snape with him? Worse. Remus Lupin and Sirius Black! Two of the four people he hated most in the world. And, no, the fourth wasn't Peter Pettigrew. As if he would stoop so low as to hate the nasty little traitor – hypocritical aren't we? – who had done everything in his power to make Dumbledore cry.
The fourth person was Voldemort. Lucius Malfoy didn't bother him as much as he used to. He remembered the Lucius from Hogwarts: granted, still arrogant and condescending but undeniably brilliant. He rivaled Snape in brains, James Potter in charisma, Sirius Black in looks, and Remus Lupin in oozing sexuality. I didn't just think that, did I?
Lucius was part of the reason why he liked Draco so much. His son was nothing and everything like his father.
Malfoy.
Another reason why these two were even in the Hogwarts castle. The situation between Lucius and Draco hadn't diffused in the least bit and even though Draco had broken with his family, Lucius was still trying his damn hardest, no longer under the pretence of being the 'good guy' to the ministry, of reclaiming his son. His heir. His possession. And as much Severus Snape loathed him, he had to concede that Lucius was one of the most cunning bastards out there; there was little he didn't know about Hogwarts. It seemed only a matter of time before he would be able to get in and 'take' Draco back.
"Stay with me?" There, at least he could still coherently voice his thoughts.
"Yes, Severus." Dumbledore's voice took on a jovial tone and for a horrible moment Snape was sure he wanted to hex the older man in his dinky little chair.
Controlling himself, he murmured, "The dungeons? Surely more appropriate for former Gryffindors to stay in the tower of Gryffindor," spitting out the foul name of – to him at least – the bane of his existence.
"I've thought about it, but I think that it would be far safer for them to be in your capable hands-" he paused to shoot a warning glance at Sirius who had snorted. "In your hands instead of unsettling the students. The faculty was most adamant you take them in."
Of course; they've been after my blood for years. "Traitors," he muttered almost absently. He chose to ignore Black's dirty glare and Lupin's shushing movement. His mind was still trying to wrap its way around the idea of Sirius Black – and worse – Remus Lupin staying in his dungeons, his room, his sanctuary… he cut the last thought off.
Nodding stiffly, he said, "They may stay there."
With that settled he stood to leave, needing time to absorb the situation and also to find a new place to stay for a few weeks. There was no way in hell he would stay in the dungeons with them around. Surely Dumbledore knew that? Of course, his characteristically bitter thoughts added, that's the reason Dumbledore sent them down there. Why not give the rooms to Gryffindors when only a Slytherin was down there anyways? Better him then any of the other teachers. Oh, of course there were other Slytherins on the staff, but none who were like him.
Failed Death Eater! Traitorous Death Eater!
"Severus, I have a few separate items to discuss with you. Sirius, Remus, you two may go and visit Harry. He should be in the Gryffindor common room." His kind words lit a spark in Black's face and for a moment, Snape could see the parts of Black that were still that Gryffindor golden boy, the dark-haired Keeper who had done everything in his power to ruin a certain dark-haired boy who had belonged to Slytherin.
And how he succeeded. Snape sneered at the little voice in his head that never seemed to go away; no matter how many draughts he forced himself to drink in order to stay conscious. The human body, he knew, was at the most basic level, a bag of chemicals. Creating the right potion would be able to ensure that he needed no sleep, needed no break.
No rest for the wicked, eh?
"Severus, please, sit."
He sat.
For long moments, Snape could feel Dumbledore's eyes drilling into his bowed head. He knew what was going to come next. A litany of explanations, excuses, reasoning's on why he shouldn't be angry, shouldn't feel betrayed, shouldn't screech about the favoritism. A loathing sneer painted its way across his sallow skin. He had heard them all already and wasn't in the mood to steel himself for another round.
"Severus. Look at me."
Snape finally lifted his head, tooling his face into its usual impassive mask whenever he dealt with Dumbledore. No need to get crude when the master of masks was before him. The sympathy and pity was there in those too-blue eyes and Snape wanted to wipe that soft smile away by cursing him with Cruciatus. Let him see how it felt to go back to Voldemort over and over.
His thoughts were always so dark, regardless of how much time he spent in the light.
"Severus… I know this is hard for you to comprehend, but perhaps you could see it as a chance to finally settle these differences between yourself and Sirius."
Snape settled on a snarl but subsided into silence to hear Dumbledore out.
"Differences that are undoubtedly causing a great deal of distress for Remus."
There was a short, tense silence and then Snape gave a short bark of laughter. "And what do I care for the werewolf?"
Liar.
Shut up.
"I know little, but still, I remember that you two had been the closest as any of those four. You tutored him in Potions, wasn't it?"
"Yes."
"And why?"
"Because he asked me to."
"And you agreed?"
"Because at the time, there was no reason not to."
Dumbledore leaned back into his chair and observed his once-wayward student. The black hair that during his youth that had been relatively clean was now oily, rather oily… sometimes, when he had a rare moment of freedom, he would idly wonder why Severus chose to keep his hair so obviously unclean. Sometimes he mused that it was to keep others away… but he chose to not dwell on that thought too long. He knew. He knew that of all his former students, perhaps Severus had suffered some of the worst the Fates could hand out.
For his choices, for his failings, for everything done to him and everything he had done. Truly, the man was a walking body of contradictions. And that made Albus Dumbledore rather sad sometimes.
"Severus, you understand that it's for the best that they stay in the dungeons with you?"
"Headmaster," Snape hesitated. Normally, he would defer to his mentor in every situation, but this was just simply preposterous. The headmaster didn't really expect that Black and himself would simply kiss – he shuddered – and make up right? He barreled on. "You don't… why…" He paused, searching for the right words. "Do you really believe it wise to invite a wanted man and a werewolf into the castle where children are?"
He was doing it again, hiding what he really felt behind barbed words, veiling his doubts and worries in his sarcastic nature, evil, disheartening words that always had a way of seeming like a subtle threat.
"You know as I well I do that Remus is safe with your potion and that Sirius did not commit the crimes he is being pursued for." Snape noted that Dumbledore's voice had taken on a hint of steel. Sure. Insult Gryffindors and he would get his head bitten off. Insult a Slytherin and Dumbledore would just twinkle. Twinkle.
"There is no deluding yourself, Headmaster, that Black is a wanted man, regardless of why he's wanted. He's still wanted. And Lupin is no better. If not for me, during that year when Black came back, he would have killed those blasted children." Snape stared intently into Dumbledore's eyes, willing the older man to agree, to say that 'yes, you're right. You saved them and they should have thanked you on their knees instead of displaying that usual haughtiness in thinking they did the right thing.'
What was it? Right, a fine chance it would happen.
"You're right, but there was a mistake there. Both Remus and Sirius have agreed that the route they took during Harry's third year was perhaps the worst, but they felt they had no other choice."
Snape snarled. No choice? There were always choices! Didn't Dumbledore make it painfully clear that night when he had come begging for sanctuary, that he had made the worst possible choice of his life? That no matter what had happened – even if it was over despair that his life mattered little to Dumbledore – that choosing to go to Voldemort was not only infinitely fool-hardy, but damning because he had directly and indirectly killed and caused harm to so many.
"No choice?" Damn his voice. Why did it have to sound so strangled?
Dumbledore paused. Perhaps his selected words weren't the best. Those sorts of words with the nature of the situation probably brought back memories for the Potions Master. "Forgive me Severus. I wasn't thinking. I concede. They had a choice, but everything turned out all right in the end, right?"
All right. Yes. If 'alright' meant that he had been stripped of his chance to get the Order of the Merlin. If 'alright' meant being humiliated beyond repair. If 'alright' meant having to look at Potter in the face day in and day out, knowing that the brat should be thanking him for saving his life, yet Potter stared at him defiantly, daring him to say anything. If 'alright' meant enduring several weeks of sleepless nights when he really did want to rest for once. If 'alright' meant losing Remus Lupin twice… then yes, everything had turned out 'alright' in the end.
"Severus?"
"If there is nothing more, Headmaster, I need to retire to my rooms and make some plans." Safe subject. Cordial but firm.
"Of course, Severus. One more thing. Draco Malfoy? How have the Slytherins been treating him?" There was a worried tone in the voice that rarely fretted himself about Slytherins.
"There are some who have shunned him but most are accepting and are still looking to him as their leader. Among those most supportive are Gregory Goyle, Vincent Crabbe, Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini - " Here he was interrupted by Dumbledore with a startled exclamation.
"Blaise Zabini? Of the Moor's Zabini's?"
"Yes."
"Indeed." Dumbledore was stroking his beard and there was a softening light in his steel-blue eyes.
"And also Millicent Bulstrode." The last was finished with almost a distracted note. He had been sure that Pansy and Millicent would not like Draco for – using an indelicate word – snogging his houses literal "antichrist', but he remembered that afternoon well…
~*~
"Draco's in love with Potter, isn't he?"
Snape paused in his work to study his Slytherin student. Now in her sixth year, she had grown from her slightly pudgy, chattering, sneering, shrieking self into a quiet, pale, and thin, extremely thin, young woman who rarely, if ever, spoke to anyone except for Millicent and Leda, the only other two girls in her year.
There were of course circumstances surrounding her change.
And he still in part blamed himself for it.
He hadn't expected them to move so quickly, to seize a student of his so easily. They had taken Pansy by force, her own father agreeing to her induction into the Death Eaters. Severus had stood there that night, watching with clenched fists, with hooded eyes, as they dragged her to the center, ignoring her screams of terror, her pleadings for them to stop, her shrieks of pain, as the mark was finally burned forever into her arm.
Afterwards, he saw her father reprimand her for making a fool of him in front of the Dark Lord. And then he Disapparated with barely a word of consolation. She had stood there for the longest time, staring blankly at the spot her father used to be, before lifting eyes to stare straight into Snape's. Tears shimmered there and her voice rose, grew high-pitched in accusation.
"Why didn't you stop them?"
He had no answer for her. There would never be an answer. He could only stand there, protect her from what little she didn't know now.
"Why didn't you stop them? I didn't want this! I didn't want THIS!" Her last shriek came out as a strangled sob and she threw herself at him, pummeling his chest with hands that were still caked with the dried blood of her initiation. Snape let her hit him; he deserved it no less and she needed the outlet before returning home.
With a broken cry, she slid to the ground and clutched the Dark Mark, her fingers scrabbling to tear the skin from her arm, digging into newly-healed flesh in an attempt to rip the very scar that now proclaimed her evilness, her darkness, her 'Slytherin' traits.
Snape didn't move closer; it wasn't his nature to offer comfort… not even to a student who had just been pushed to the brink and then carelessly tossed over. He knew what it felt like to wake up within the arms of the enemy. And those she had trusted most had delivered he into the literal hands of evil.
But he wouldn't, couldn't comfort her.
A few moments later, her mother Apparated in and saw the two of them still together. With barely a glance at her crying daughter, she took Pansy up by the arm, nodded stiffly to Severus and then disappeared with a *pop*, taking Pansy with her.
Severus could remember standing, staring at the spot where she left for a long time afterwards. He had needed a good pint of brandy before being able to sleep without the aid of potions that night. And still his thoughts were plagued with nightmares.
"Professor. I'm right, aren't I?"
Feeling that there was no more need to hide anything of the sort, he nodded curtly, watching her carefully for any sign of dissension, of disgust, or worse, malice and opportunity.
At first, there was nothing on her face; she was a Slytherin after all, tooled and trained in concealing all their emotions. But he finally could see a burgeoning weariness in her dark blue eyes, the fading color of youth, only to be replaced by an older, far too old for his tastes, young adult who had seen enough bloodshed in her life to faze the hardest Auror.
"He managed to leave, didn't he? He didn't choose the easy road like I did."
"You were never given the choice, Miss Parkinson."
Pansy ignored his poor words of comfort. "He chose to go down the path he felt at peace with. He… he escaped." Her last words were hushed, almost reverent.
Snape continued his work silently, waiting out what she really wanted to say. Slytherins chose to go in circles, a trait that drove the other houses mad, but served their own purposes well.
"Do you know…" She trailed off, her voice now a low whisper. "Do you know that Draco and I had asked each other, once, a long time ago, what we really wanted? I had told him that I wanted nothing more than to be gray. He looked at me as if I was insane." She paused to smile briefly at the memory. "And then I asked him in turn what he wanted…. He told me that what he wanted, he could never have. He was so sure… But he's gotten what he wanted…"
"Perhaps he did."
"Do you think… do you think I can still have what I want?"
Snape regarded her steadily. During the months after her induction, he had no news of her well-being and by the time he returned to school, he was rather anxious about his student. When the welcoming ceremony had opened and the students had filed in slowly, he found himself craning to catch a look of Pansy, something he rarely did for any of his students.
When he finally saw her, he hissed in surprise, drawing the attention of Minerva who was sitting next to him. Her sharp eyes had followed his and what they saw stunned and sickened them both.
Pansy had veritably gone the way of the ghosts. Her face was gaunt and thin, pale and colorless. Her normally glossy and perfectly-coiffed blonde hair now hung straggled around her face, barely making a dent in her expression. Before, her hair had been scraped into elaborate hairstyles to call attention to all her attributes; now they hid her face, blocked her features, and cloaked her eyes.
She looked like a walking corpse.
Minerva knew a little of what had happened at the end of their sixth year, but apparently she had doubted the repercussions until now. Snape, oddly, didn't feel like gloating. He was too busy staring at Pansy, wondering whether he should have exposed himself and saved her.
Slowly, through the year she seemed to recover, but she remained deathly quiet to all and she floated through school, not even offering her usual insults to Granger or Potter. More than one Slytherin noticed her change – who couldn't? – but there was little they could do, so they pretended it didn't exist.
Snape was brought back to reality with a crash as Pansy once again spoke. "I've thought about it for a long time. I don't think I can be a Death Eater."
Her quiet but certain words caused an unusual wellspring of pride to rise in him. He moved swiftly to her side and bent to peer into her faded eyes. "You can be whatever you want to be Pansy. And you will always have my support." He had then brushed a hand through her hair, fatherly, gentle. Her eyes had fluttered close at the unexpected tenderness.
And she broke down.
Silent tears that had run down her face before were now harsh, wrenching sobs, one after another. Sobs that literally tore her body and soul apart as they came forth, long-denied. Her weeping pushed his own memories to the front of his mind and Snape wondered almost idly whether he had ever been like this. Trusting enough to cry in the arms of his Head of House.
Her tears ran for a long time. They were the release in a long year of wondering, asking, questioning. And it was the end. She had chosen her path and it was no longer the same one her parents had chosen for her.
That very night, he had led her to Dumbledore and she had then taken the vow for The Order of the Phoenix.
~*~
Snape breathed out.
That week after, she had started to grow in color. She no longer arranged her hair so elaborately, but she didn't leave it straggled around her face either. Pansy kept it in a simply ponytail, rarely ever doing anything beyond that. She had swept her entire make-up collection, her accessories, and her jewels into a bag and sealed it with a charm. And soon thereafter, her grades returned and this time, she vied with Draco for the top scores in Slytherin.
"Severus?"
"Headmaster, I would like to retire to my rooms. I have a few arrangements to make before Lupin and Black can stay there." He nodded briskly and then moved from the chambers.
Snape didn't wait to hear Dumbledore's token protests. He shut the door as quickly as possible, pausing an instant to lean against the wooden panel, allowing a rare moment of weakness to come upon him. Tossing his hair out of his face, he walked swiftly down the darkened hallways toward the dungeons where, for the next few weeks, he would *not* be.
Bursting in, he closed the heavy oak door behind him and muttered several locking charms before going into his bedroom. With a few words, the sheets and pillows of the bed changed and the blankets were folded neatly. Undoubtedly, Black and Lupin would share a bed.
He ignored the odd jolt at those words and worked on transferring many of his things into a valise. The dungeons were an extensive labyrinth and he had many of the rooms to himself; one of the many advantages of living in the cold, dark underground areas of Hogwarts. No one else wanted to go down there so he had plenty of privacy. There were several rooms furnished to his liking and undoubtedly, if he tried to place them in rooms further from the Great Hall than necessary, they – at least Black – would cry 'how rude'!
He was still agitatedly packing when he heard a soft rustle behind him. Stiffening, he didn't turn around right away but waited a moment before twisting on his heel to look straight into the pensive, amber eyes of Remus Lupin.
I knew I should have done more elaborate locking charms.
Snape knew that through years of experience, his face never displayed his emotions. They were perpetually in that snarling, sneering mask of derision, sarcasm, whatever would keep others away. The only ones it didn't work on were Albus and oddly enough, Poppy Pomfrey.
"Severus… It's been a while."
He paused. What was he to say to that? 'Yes, it has been. The last time we saw each other, you cost me The Order of the Merlin.' Snape almost wanted to laugh.
"Lupin." With a sharp nod, he tossed the rest of his things into a bag and magically levitating it, he moved toward the entrance of the bedroom to shift out.
Remus glanced at the bag and then at the room, a dawning realization shadowing his face. He held out a slim, pale hand and clasped it on Snape's upper arm. On his left arm. Snape hissed and he swatted Remus' hand away harder than necessary. Much harder. Enough so that Remus stumbled back in surprise and… was that hurt in his eyes?
"Severus…"
"Lupin, I do not wish to speak with you about anything. These chambers will be yours and Black's for your stay. Enjoy." His last word was mocking and with a slight bow, almost archaic in form, he stalked from the bedroom.
Leaving Remus Lupin alone.
Again.
So that's the way it is, isn't it Severus? The Potions Master obviously had not forgiven him for his part in Harry's third year fiasco. Perhaps he even blamed Remus more than anyone else for not trying to explain the Shrieking Shack incident in the proper light.
But how could I? Harry needed the truth then and there. It wasn't time to discuss how someone didn't need to be absolutely good to be good and it certainly wasn't the time to show him Sirius' darker side. Much darker side.
With a frustrated sigh, he raked a hand through his gray-streaked hair, wondering whether Severus and he would ever be able to talk beyond the sniping that characterized their current conversations. He even wondered if things hadn't turned out the way they had, could they have…
Probably not.
Severus never took the easy choices.
Remus suddenly felt tired and drained. The day had been long, filled with furtive glances, running, and finally, the meeting with Harry who Sirius hadn't seen face-to-face for over a year. Remus couldn't help but smile softly at the image of Sirius taking his godson into his arms, wrapping the child – no, more like young man now – tightly in his arms, never wanting to let go.
Remus was glad to see Harry too, but for Sirius, Harry was special. Not just in the The-Boy-Who-Lived special. Harry was Sirius's last link to James (1). Undoubtedly, Sirius could once more feel that he was back at Hogwarts, forgetting those twelve years of damnation, twelve years of torture in Azkaban.
A bitter smile suddenly twisted its way onto Remus's face. A shocking expression since he was normally always mild looking, gentle even. But the ghastly grin spoke of pain, hatred, loathing, and disgust.
Amazing. In the end, even when we all broke up for thirteen years. The survivors all ended up back at the same place.
He was speaking about themselves of course. James… dead. Lily… dead. Peter… traitor. Sirius… innocently maligned. Severus… completely changed. Himself…
Hogwarts really turned out its children well, didn't it?
With a disheartened sigh, he glanced around the dimly lit room once more before quietly exiting. He needed to speak to Sirius about his behavior in the castle for the next few days. It was a godsend that he would be able to spend time at Hogwarts with Severus; he wasn't about to have Sirius or anyone ruin it.
~*~ FINIS: Part One ~*~
Only one part of many. The next thing will probably come out in a few days. Depends on my mood and stuff. ^__^ And yes, it'll be a gory of slashiness soon. This is just a prepping chapter. By the way, ya'll should know that Pansy is one of my favorite Slytherins next to Draco and Blaise.
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Authors Note:
This line is taken directly from JayKay's fic "Wicked Game I". It perfectly suits what I think Sirius thinks of James and Harry. Hope you don't mind!
Demeter