TWENTY.

A boy, Severus thought. A werewolf. An old servant.

Only half an hour before, he had looked into the eye of the old servant one last time. With a final nod, he had confirmed to Lamotte that he had seen what he had come to see: it had been fantastically ordered, Pettigrew's mind, ordered so meticulously it was not natural, and like a carefully constructed house of cards it had fallen to reveal its every secret at the first sign of prodding. When it did, Severus had all but run out of the room, afraid of what he might do if he remained a second longer.

Now, he was walking down the dark corridors of Hogwarts, the sound of his footsteps on the stone floor as comforting as the sound of a favourite tune from childhood. He was on his way to snare himself a werewolf.

Light poured out of his quarters as Lupin pulled the door open, Severus's fist still in the air. He had not gone to sleep yet, though his hair was in disarray and his robes had been loosened. He stared into Severus's face as though he'd seen a ghost.

'Severus,' he stuttered. 'What are you—Albus hadn't told me you were back—'

'I would not have imagined so, considering I have not seen him. I have only just arrived.'

And Remus Lupin was the first person he'd come to see. The indignities kept piling up.

'Is Harry alright?' Surprise had given way to alarm. 'Is he—'

'I assume he's having a fantastic time playing fugitives with his new mutt,' Severus drawled. 'Big, black, dirty—ring any bells?'

Lupin had gone white. His hand twitched at his side, as if he'd considered reaching for his wand before thinking better of it. 'Perhaps you should come in,' he murmured.

'Oh, should I?'

He did come in. He did not want Lupin's help, but he needed it. And so, despite his every instinct, he told him everything.

'I must return to Durmstrang and send a Patronus to Black to arrange a meeting point,' Severus said. 'But if he hears from my mouth that the aurors have Pettigrew in custody, he will not come. Even if he hears it from Albus Dumbledore's mouth, he may not come, or he may not bring the boy. I am counting, however, on Gryffindor stupidity in the face of sentiment.'

'You want me to come,' Lupin stated the obvious. He had slumped in a chair sometime during Severus's explanation. He looked so haunted Severus almost felt bad for how gleeful it was making him. 'We did not part on the best of terms. And now—twelve years later—after I've done nothing to—'

'Oh, do try not to be a coward for once in your life, Lupin. The man has spent twelve years in Azkaban. He will cling to the first warm body he finds. You smile at him and tell him he's forgiven, his damaged brain will wash itself clear with temporary amnesia just to make sure he doesn't scare you off. He may wake up and realise you are a sorry excuse for a human being at some point, of course, but if he wishes to kill you once we've got Harry back, I rather think that is no longer my business.'

Lupin chuckled wetly. Severus could not believe he was going to have to watch the two of them reunite.

'Find yourself a broom,' Severus ordered. 'We will have to fly some of the way.'

Three hours later, they landed at Durmstrang's gates. Aurora borealis glittered overhead. Lupin looked halfway to frozen stiff, his rags doing little to shield him from the arctic wind. They would have to steal a student's coat before they ventured out again.

'I will wait here,' Lupin managed through chattering teeth.

'And conveniently die of exposure before you've served your purpose? I need to find out precisely where to best arrange the meeting and I need to convince someone to take us there by dogsled. It will take some time.'

Lupin sighed. 'Severus, please. This is Durmstrang. I am very certain I know what Igor Karkaroff would think of my stepping even one foot past that gate.'

'And who the hell cares what Igor Karkaroff thinks?' Severus spat back. 'I am not letting you out of my sight for a single second, Lupin. Come.'

The hour they spent in the castle was a rush of pain and urgency. He hobbled around, trailed by a fearful Lupin who spooked at the faintest suggestion of footsteps, and proceeded to wake Ludvig, then Krum then Vernyhora, determined to establish a location remote enough that they would not be interrupted but familiar enough to Harry that he might lead Black there.

They stood by the door to the doghouse, hanging ajar as Ludvig and Krum readied a sled inside, sharing a cup of coffee from the thermos procured in the kitchens, when dawn began to break. Severus could no longer tell if he was shivering from pain, exhaustion, cold or hunger.

'It's beautiful,' Lupin said, eyes trained on the sliver of sunlight breaking over the walls. 'I can't believe I am here.'

Desperate hope, perhaps, Severus thought. That might have been the root cause of the shivering: the anxiety that came of feeling you were doing the right thing, and that still it might not be enough.

'Have you brought the healing potions?'

'No, Lupin. I only told you I would bring them to make conversation.'

'Yes, alright.' At least the cold and the anxiety had dislodged some of Lupin's careful politesse. He had begun to sound positively infuriated any time Severus made a comment. 'If he does show—where should I take him? I am not sure he will come back to Britain with me until he has full confidence that it is safe there.'

'I would be shocked to find his blood doesn't grant him access to a dozen European getaways. If not, you can take him to Finland. I have a—' he did not think he could say friend and not feel foolish '—a connection there. I will give you the address.'

Lupin frowned. 'Can they be trusted? This connection?'

'No. Naturally, she is an old Death Eater friend of mine and will slit both your throats in the night.'

'Forgive me if I would like a little more reassurance!' Lupin snapped. 'I don't know this person, and this is not a matter of dropping by for the odd tea—'

'This person,' Severus hissed, 'has recently returned from a months-long trek through the Albanian woods, searching for any trace of the Dark Lord so that he may be captured and killed before the goddamn wizarding world unanimously decides it's up to their favourite Boy Hero.'

Lupin's eyes widened. 'Has she found anything?'

Severus shrugged. The earlier anger was fading into the background pain radiating from all the places he was missing flesh. 'She's found some magical traces,' he said. 'Not enough to take action. He may well have been there. The problem is that it appears the Dark Lord is skilled at hiding when he wishes to remain hidden.'

There was the characteristic creak of boots in fresh snow. Severus whipped around to spy Harkusha, approaching from the back of the doghouse. When he saw his face, the boy raised his empty hands in a show of peace.

'I'm looking for Viktor,' he said.

'At four in the morning?'

Harkusha laughed. 'Inna can't sleep when she's anxious. It is always everyone else's problem.' He crossed his arms at his chest in what Severus recognised was nervousness. 'Do you think you'll find him okay?'

Severus was too tired to dislike him, and too tired for secrecy. 'I believe we will.'

Harkusha gave him a weak smile. 'That's good,' he said. 'Thank you.'

And despite the pain and exhaustion, despite knowing he had broken something irrevocably in himself and in Harry, despite knowing nothing could be the same, Severus found a sure sort of hope fill his chest then. It was easier to hope when there were people inside dressing the sled for him, people drawing out maps to abandoned coalmines, people that would take Black in and pour Severus's potions over his repulsive, skeletal body.

The old servant had been caught and contained. The boy would be rescued and the werewolf would in a moment's time pour Severus more coffee. Perhaps it was childish, but there was a part of Severus that wanted to believe he had made the right choices today, that through the magic of being good, of not pushing children off swings, of eating his vegetables, he could break any curse, could stop any prophecy. It was a thing of storybooks, foolish in its simplicity.

But who was to say, he thought as he climbed into the sled, that the storybook could not be right, just this once?