Chapter 8

I had no desire to tell Albus about Voldemort's threat. First of all, I didn't want to add to his already overwhelming burden and responsibility. No matter what he decided, the blood would be on his hands. Secondly, I didn't want to know what his decision would be; it would be devastating for me if he put those canines' lives first before mine. Last, but most importantly, I had made up my mind about the situation, the second after Voldemort gave his threat.   

I would not act like a hero: sacrificing myself to save Black and Lupin's miserable existences.

I could argue that I decided so because my position as the primary spy in Voldemort's inner circle was more important than theirs, and thus, pivotal in this war. I was very aware that it was not my sense of duty that prompted this decision, but self-preservation. I was a Slytherin after all. That, and the fact that I enormously loathed the two Gryffindors who had made my life a living hell.

Especially the one who had snatched Harry away from me.

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It was a bright sunny day, and most of the Hogwarts inhabitants were enjoying the rare warmth in the middle of winter. It made little difference to my mood whatever the weather or season was, but I did appreciate fine days to collect Potion ingredients in the Forbidden Forest, especially the black roses which only bloomed in the winter.

It turned out that something had ruined the only Black Rose bush left in England. The bush looked like it had been trampled on -- probably the Centaurs who had no appreciation for magical flora. There was no bud left and the bush itself had dried for maybe several weeks. Imported Black Rose buds cost a thousand Galleon each; there was no way I could afford it with my salary as a teacher in Hogwarts. Damn it all to hell!

In a very foul mood, I returned to Hogwarts, neglecting to collect other herbs I might find should I care to look for them. But what for? With the amount of disappointment I was feeling, I might end up hurting myself instead, as the plants had developed an elaborate defense system to protect themselves. Kind of like me, actually, building emotional armaments and armor to fight and to defend myself from potential harms. I prided that no one had ever got through me.

No one, save perhaps for the radiant beautiful being I had just seen. 

I had reached the border of Hogwarts, with all my foul mood and overwhelming desire to give a month of detention to whomever might be unlucky enough to cross my path. It was when I saw Harry with his friends, laughing and talking while they were taking out the contents of the picnic basket they brought, not noticing my presence. The Weasley brat had just smeared a plate of chocolate cake on Harry's face and robe. I saw that as an opportunity to spoil their fun by assigning the vilest detentions at my disposal to Weasley. Before I stepped out from my hiding place behind a tree, to give them the nasty surprise they deserved, Harry had burst out laughing.

He had never appeared to me more beautiful than he was, regardless of the cake stains on him. His lips quirked, showing his white while the cream dripping from his nose to his red lips. The soft wind tousled his black hair, and the sun rays caused his skin to have some angelic glowing quality. But it was his eyes that made my breath hitch in surprise.   

They were shining with life and mirth, unadulterated from all the sorrow and burden he had been carrying all this time. The green fire didn't burn. Instead, it warmed everyone around him with its purity and … and what? It would, perhaps, took me a lifetime to define what I had seen that day. I wish I could say it was innocence, but he was not innocent. Not at all. He made mistakes, a lot of them were gigantic in proportion, he had hurt others, he could be arrogant, selfish, bratty, and annoying. Yet… Even after all these years I found it hard to believe that two little green orbs could be so expressive; was it possible that it was just my illusion my mind created in a lame attempt of wish fulfillment?  

I watched them quietly for seemed like hours, uncaring of the cold wind blowing and the cramp in my feet. My eyes were fixed on Harry, playing and laughing with his friends with blissful abandon I had never seen in him before. Although I only enjoyed their joy vicariously, as I was excluded from their activity, it made me wonder nonetheless if this was what people described as a religious experience. How long had it been since I felt this peace and contentment, or had I even felt it in first place? Could I taste it again in the future, even from afar?

The sun had set when Harry and his friends packed their picnic basket and cast Cleaning charms on their clothes. His two friends cast the charm on Harry, looking uncomfortable. Granger threw a sympathetic glance toward Harry, who only smiled. I was relieved beyond belief that Harry hadn't behaved like a loyal impulsive Gryffindor he usually was and told his friends the truth.     

Just when they were about to leave, a huge black dog ran toward them, tumbling Harry to the ground. Black. I scowled. They were wrestling now. Harry laughingly tried to push the mongrel away from him as Black was pinning him while slobbering all over the boy disgustingly. Weasley and Granger only watched the scene, laughing as well.

"Get off me, Snuffles!" I heard Harry said. (Snuffles? What a proper name for the mutt!) He pushed hard, shoving the dog to his side. 

"Eww!" Weasley wrinkled his nose, noticing the dog saliva all over Harry's face and neck. Indeed, I sneered.

Granger cast the Cleaning charm on Harry. Snuffles had apparently been satisfied by his game; he – it -- didn't try to knock Harry down again. Soon, Harry's dogfather indulged in the affectionate petting on the head, the proper affectionate gesture for a dog, by Harry and his friends.

"Snuffles is really cute, isn't he?" said Granger fondly, ruffling the dog's fur, who yipped happily.

"He is," Harry smiled with unmistakable adoration in his voice. "He's my dream come true," he added. "I know you guys think that I am miserable for having lost my magic, but really, I wouldn't exchange this for anything in the world."

Hatred was not new to me; it was one of the first emotions I learned and the one I never stopped cultivating. I had seen many abominations done under the name of hate; I had even taken part in it. Yet, never had I felt such a blazing hatred and envy. It choked me, burned me, hurt me. I remembered falling on my knees to the ground in shock after hearing Harry's words. I didn't remember seeing Harry and his friends disappear into the castle, nor my journey to the dungeon. I only remembered the pain, the hatred, the uncontrollable desire to snatch back what was mine.

Harry was mine! Where was that beastly mutt when Harry needed him? Where was he when Quirrel almost killed Harry, or when Harry needed comfort? Where? Harry was mine, because it was *I* who had been taking care of him, guarding him, teaching him, ever since he arrived at Hogwarts. What had that mongrel ever given to Harry that worth the boy's admiration?  Nothing! Save for an imagined family life.

Salazar, why had that bastard always ruined everything in my life? Wasn't it enough that he and his obnoxious friends destroyed my childhood that he must take away the only person I cared for now?

I emptied two bottles of Firewhiskey – a drink I usually found offensively cheap for my fine taste, but my Scotch had run out and  I needed to ease the pain in my chest, the all-consuming hate which was more than I could bear.  I collapsed on the couch after that, too drunk to move and too tired to care.

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The first thing I saw when I returned to the wretched world of consciousness was a long white beard in front of me with the background of a horrendous purple robe. I blinked. Who would have guessed that Hell was so horrific?

"Awake I see," a cheerful voice, that must belong to the purple robe owner, spoke up.

I blinked again, then sudden realization hit me. Idiot, it was not a demon from the Hell. Worse, it was Albus and definitely with bad news since he hardly came to the dungeon.

"Albus?" I croaked. Another unpleasant realization struck: I had a hangover. And a terrible one.

"Last time I checked, I hadn't switched body with my brother," he quipped. Then his tone turned serious. "You didn't show up at breakfast and your first class today. I came here to see if you were alright."

"Oh," was the only articulate response I could give him since my brain cells still refused to cooperate.

Albus looked around and noticed the shattered glass of the Firewhiskey bottles. From the labels, he could assume that I had drunk two bottles. "You're drunk," he said.

Normally, I would say 'thanks for stating the obvious'. Now, I could only nod. The foul taste in my mouth and the overwhelming headache was getting worse.

Albus sighed. He stood up and retrieved Hangover Potion from my potion cabinet and a glass of milk. "Here, drink these," he ordered. I hated milk, but I didn't object.

We sat in silence for quite a long time. I supposed he was waiting me to sober enough for him to deliver an advice. Or he was waiting for me to speak up of why I got stoned in first place. Well, he knew me better than that. I purposely ignored him and pretended to be fascinated by the swirling liquid in my glass.

That he was going to say, "I apologize, Severus," had never entered my mind.

My head snapped to his direction. "What for?" I asked in trepidation that he was about to bring me bad news.

He sighed deeply. The weight of his old age and his massive responsibility were apparent in his face and eyes, a lot more than I had ever seen him before.

"Albus?" I inquired.

"I've pushed you into this," was his enigmatic reply.

"Pushed me to what?" I frowned in confusion.

"This." He pointed to the shattered glass. "This addiction, this unhappiness."

I opened my mouth, about to object, but he raised his hand to stop me. "Let me finish," he ordered.

"I've known that your spying activity, your life as a double agent, has always put a great strain on your life, on your happiness. Yet, I have always thought that you've always been strong enough, whole enough, to go through this without any significant damage to yourself. But today you missed class, something that had never happened before, and you were drunk, picking up your drinking habit which you left since the first war was over. It's all my responsibility."

Of course, I was startled by his confession. The thought that Albus was responsible for my problematic drinking never crossed my mind. After all, this was my responsibility, my role, my penance for my past sins.

"I'd never blame you, Albus," I told him.

 Albus didn't reply. He merely walked out of my room, still with the grave expression and regret in his blue eyes. He made me feel guilty.

"Albus," I hesitated, afraid of accidentally exposing something I wish to hide, but the urge to ease my mentor's pain was unbearable. "What my irresponsible behavior today, and my reckless drinking last night was not caused by you." It was caused by that favorite mutt of yours was left unsaid.

"Severus, I…" he stopped. I looked at him, confused. "Never mind. I just want to tell you that Harry came to me yesterday night. He asked me to let Remus Lupin teach him Cosmos magic."

"He… what?"

"He asked for Remus as his teacher," he repeated, watching my reaction with curiosity. "I can assure you that Remus is more than qualified to teach Harry. He has been learning Cosmos magic from Benedictine the Bad, one of the best Cosmos mages in Britain, since he resigned from Hogwarts."

"I see," I said. My expression was cold as ice. "It seems that I am no longer needed in Harry's life."

"Severus…," he looked at me apologetically. "Harry has the right to choose his teacher, especially since he's not a Hogwarts student anymore. I am sorry."

I didn't respond to that. After the Headmaster left, I sank into my chair, doing nothing but staring mindlessly into the ashes in the hearth. My only reason to interact with Harry had gone. By the boy's own request.

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It was pathetic to creep slowly in the night like the unwanted guest I was, peeking into Hagrid's hut, just to have a glimpse of my one and only addiction, Harry Potter. (I wasn't an alcoholic, despite Albus' opinion.)

I levitated myself to reach a little hole near the roof, mindful to not make any noise. As I peeked inside, I saw him already asleep.

His was the epitome of beauty, and peace. He was covered by a thick duvet with pictures of lions on it; courtesy of Mrs. Weasley no doubt. In his arms, he held a stuffed stag I didn't know he had. His mussed hair looked soft and enticing. Ah, if only I could run my fingers through his hair, lavishing it with the attention it deserved…

My fantasy was interrupted when Black's abominable body came into view. He bent to kiss Harry's forehead and caressed the black mane I so secretly desired. I saw him smiling as he did so, showing the loving side of him I had never imagined he had. Had he showed the better side of him in other occasion, it would have no effect on me. But this…

I was sick with jealousy and anger. My emotion wasn't alleviated at all when Harry was awakened by the affectionate gesture and smiled back to Black.

"Sleep well, pumpkin," Black murmured.

Harry chortled. "Pumpkin?" he slurred in a sleepy voice.

"Yeah, pumpkin. It was what your grandma called poor James. She always tucked him to bed, kissed his forehead, and said goodnight with this endearment to your dad, even when his friends were sleeping at his house. You can imagine his reaction and ours." Black grinned.

"He must have been very embarrassed." Harry giggled. I never recalled seeing him giggle before.

"He is. And we'd call him "pumpkin" to tease him until he secretly asked all of our respective mothers about our embarrassing nicknames and teased us back with them."  Harry giggled again; he was fully awake now.  

"But you know what's worse?" Black smiled mischievously.

"What?"

"Your grandma told your mom on their wedding day to 'keep her pumpkin well fed and happy'. Lilly almost passed out from surprise. 'Pumpkin?' she said loudly in the church for all to hear. 'I am married to a pumpkin? Where the hell is the cool Auror of the year I was engaged to?'"

Harry was downright laughing by then while Black's grin was widened by his success in telling a joke.

"Oh, God," he said. "On dad's wedding day?"

"Right after the vow was spoken."

"Oh, God." Harry burst into another fit of laughter. "Poor dad." Then he was choked.

"There, there." Black brought him some water and patted his back to help his breathing.

Harry drank the water. "Thanks."

"No big deal." Black shrugged.

"I mean for telling me about my dad."

Black smiled and ruffled Harry's hair. "No problem. Now sleep. I shouldn't have made you laugh like that. It can give you nightmares, some said."

"Okay," Harry said. Black stood up, probably intend to sleep in his own bed on the other side of the hut, but Harry tugged on his pajamas. "Sirius, would you like to sleep with me? You know, to keep me from nightmares…" Did I sense him leering at Black? It was probably my imagination, but it drove me mad nonetheless.

Black laughed. "Sure. Why not?"

The last thing I saw was Harry scooting aside to give him more room. I couldn't stand to watch anymore. I couldn't stand to imagine the closeness they shared, Harry shared, with the goddamn bastard mutt. I Apparated to London and went into a bar to order no less than ten glasses of the strongest absinthe. The slight bitterness was nothing compared to the acidic poison in my mind and soul.

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The next morning was the werewolf's arrival at Hogwarts. Minerva told me that the beast would take residence at Hogsmeade and came to Hogwarts twice a week for Harry's lessons. She was unambiguously glad that the task was now Lupin, one of her golden boys, rather than me. As a polite woman and a good colleague, she tried to hide it, but her poor acting skill couldn't fool my trained eyes.

I watched their first training, as requested by Dumbledore, in a very sour mood and head throbbing from lack of sleep. I yelled and snapped at Harry every time he failed to remember our past lesson. Harry glared at me furiously.

"We can always try again, Harry. Your accomplishment so far is very good," Lupin said comfortingly. His patience and "kindness" made me want to retch.

Although it worked well to make that lazy brat liked him. He looked at the werewolf gratefully and smiled. "Thanks, Professor," he said.

"Call me Remus, Harry. Officially I am not your professor anymore. I am just your tutor." The werewolf smiled back. "Now, try again."

Harry ignored me the rest of the lesson, pretending I didn't exist. His attention was fully on Lupin, who indulged him with many undeserved compliments on Harry's poor performance. His indifference hurt me more than his anger, which I had grown accustomed to.

"Terrible, Mr. Potter," I smirked. "With skills like that how can you expect to save the world? I don't think you can ever protect yourself from a werewolf attack."

He was angry at my cruel remark, I knew. He was about to lash out, but Lupin touched his hand gently and shook his head once. Harry took a deep breath and continued to ignore me throughout the lesson.

After the lesson, Lupin thanked me for helping Harry and tried to engage me in a conversation with his sickening saintly good manners; one of his traits I despised most. I turned from him, and walked away without a word, choked by the intensity of loathing I suddenly felt for this repulsive creature.

If there was any doubt left to follow Voldemort's plan, it had been squashed down.

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A/N: Thanks to Theresa for beta reading.

Response to reviewers:

Saavik: I don't see why if Draco wakes up, everyone will know he's DE unless he's been marked. In this story, I assumed he hasn't since he failed his first assignment, which was supposed to be the test to be a DE.

Unknown, toria, and lady Lighting, thanks for the reviews.