A Season for Healing

By Dien

Summary and disclaimer in part one.

Rating: The series overall has an adult rating due to the Severus/Harry plotline... This part is PG-13.

(rather long) Notes: Hm. Several people pointed out that the title of last chapter came from a poem by O'Shaugnessy, for which I'm indebted to their greater cultural knowledge. Thank yew. *bows*

LadyRhiyana-- will be answered.

Lia Santana-- nice speculation as regards James.... it is, as far as I know, completely unfounded. But I'll be sure to ask Severus.

Agar-- I confess, all my knowledge of the instrument and proper care thereof comes from reading on the 'Net. I'm not that talented, sigh...

Anyone who's asked about Siobhan-- more will be revealed as the story creeps along. She won't actually appear for a bit yet.

Snape's Evil Twin: You ask me for something contradictory! *grins* You say Harry ought to stop stuttering, then ask for evidences of his mental disturbance... I'd say the stuttering could be construed as that evidence. But perhaps not. In any case, thank you for a thoughtful and critical review. :)

Dylan-- thanks for your continual lovely and thoughtful revs! You have definitely picked up on some things I've been hoping people would get. *grins in utter delight*

Jlightstar: Forgot to answer it when you asked, but yes, I suppose I *could* be referring to Gaiman's Death. I'm certainly a huge fan of hers. :D

And EVERYONE ELSE-- just because I don't mention you don't mean a thing! I read every review I get and am astonished by the feedback this continues to produce. Thank you all for being such a great readership. (...is that a word...?)

Hmm... we have here the first mention of Severus's office and The Desk (don't worry; it will merit those capitals at a later date...) that appears, however briefly, in "Off-Season." (If you don't know what Off-Season is, you need to go join the Yahoo! Group and read it. NC-17, so I can't post it here.) Just so you know.

Confession: I read a trashy romance novel. I did! It's called "Say You Love Me," and it's by Johanna Lindsey. I mention it because I think I owe a bit of Petra Snape to Lady Langton, she-who-shoots-her-husband-out-the-window, though in his case it's for wasting the family fortune and not for cheating. Ta!

Thanks to HP Lexicon for reference stuff.

(Continual thanks to) my beta Nyarth; she is fantastically awesome cool. Everyone: GO READ HER STUFF! She's in my Favorite Authors. Go! Go! (but finish this first)

Chapter Eleven. In which owl posts are written and we learn about the origin of the animals, as well as a wee bit of Severus's family history.

Harry leaned back in his chair, fingering the quill Snape had returned to him. In the background, the elves quietly made another sandwich, which they had started to do even before he asked.

It was occurring to him that perhaps the best way to go through this summer would be to just wipe the existence of any pre-conceptions of Snape and start over, as if he'd never met the man. As if he didn't already have the experience of six years of the worst teacher he'd ever had.

Start over. Just forget Professor Snape and start over with Severus Snape.

Because there was just no way certain things he saw in the man's behaviour could be reconciled with his professor. For instance: Snape had just apologized to him. An apology. From Snape.

His mind ran again over the scene he had just witnessed, a smile playing on his lips as he remembered the way Snape had flung his sandwich to the owl. It had suggested a lot of practice.

Strange owl, too. Harry admitted it wasn't one he'd have wanted to deal with-- the thing had looked deranged. If this was the sort of owl that Snape's sister kept... eh.

"Hey Macavity."

"Yes Hari," rasped the lynx, who was still looking forbiddingly towards the door the owl had first come through.

"What's Snape's sister like?"

He hadn't thought it was possible for cats to shrug, but Macavity was not bound by laws of the possible and impossible, so she shrugged. "She is... louder than Severus," the cat said after a moment's thought.

"...louder?"

"It means more loud."

"I know what it means, I-- sigh...." Harry leaned forward, resting his hands on his chin. Another chicken sandwich was thrust under his nose, and he muttered his thanks before taking a bite.

He noticed the newspapers Snape had been reading still lying on the table, and out of idle curiosity picked the first one up. A bold title proclaimed it was the Cry of the Banshee. Harry thought he'd remembered Bill Weasley reading it once, on one of the occasions they'd been visiting the Burrow at the same time.

Absently, he started to read through the front page, temporarily forgetting the many incongruities of Snape.

****

29 June 2002

My dearest sister:

I reluctantly admit your letter has made me curious. I'm now actually interested in having you home and hearing all the details which you have, in your usual irritating fashion, only hinted at. By the by, we have a guest for the summer... you may have heard of him... details when you arrive, as I am pressed for time.

I remain your devoted elder brother,

                                                            -Severus

29 June 2002

Headmaster:

I received an owl from Siobhan today that I believe infers she has lost her position at Durmstrang. She is currently looking for work; do you perhaps know of any place she might find employment suitable of her talents and skills?

Things with my guest are going as well as can be expected.

-Faithfully,

Severus Snape

Severus sighed as he set down his quill. He rolled both pieces of parchment up tightly and rummaged in the desk drawers for a stick of wax. A spoken word lit the flame, and the dark green wax dripped down onto the first of the letters. He carefully pressed the family seal into the liquid wax, feeling the tingle in his fingertips as protective magic flowed from metal stamp into wax. He whispered Dumbledore's name as the wax hardened, ensuring that the Headmaster would be the only one to open or read the letter. Not that there was anything truly dangerous in this letter (if there had been he would never have trusted it to the post); but habits die hard.

There were, of course, other ways to seal a letter than using the rather pompous family seal, but most of them were time-consuming. Severus had to admit that whichever ancestor of his had designed this seal had certainly known what he was doing; it only took a few seconds to protect any message one might want protected.

The process was repeated with the letter to his sister. He was not fool enough to put Harry Potter's name down anywhere on paper; and the phrase "pressed for time" would let Siobhan know that the identity of the guest was delicate information he didn't want to risk in a letter. The two had evolved a complicated and private system of watchwords over the years of their very Slytherin existences, and if Severus gave any thought to using a code-phrase, it was only to imagine, with slight amusement, Siobhan's reaction.

With the letters in hand, Snape set the wax, seals, and other detritus back in the drawers of the huge oaken desk, then sighed as he leaned back in the chair.

The office had been his father's, and his father's before him; he had never felt comfortable in it. The workshop, even though inherited from his mother, was intensely his; he knew it and loved it and had left his own mark on the space. But the study-- too formal, too ostentatious, too Snape. He pursed his lips in a slight frown as his black eyes roamed around the bookshelves and cabinets, past the tapestry with the coat of arms (worked in black, green, and gold), over all the things that reminded him of his own father.

Summanus Snape was dead-- very dead-- and had been for years. Severus knew this intellectually; it didn't stop him from half-expecting his father to enter the door and say in his voice that felt like the North Wind, "Explain your presence, boy."

Still, the office was his now, and no echo of a ghost would keep him from using it.

Or so he told himself, resolutely. To prove it, he spent a good five minutes longer in the study than was strictly necessary, before leaving to take the letters to the Owlery.

"That son of yours has only one motive for everything he does-- spite. A spiteful, malicious viper. You should be so proud, Summanus..."

****

Surprisingly, Caperian gave him no trouble when he tried to get her to take the letter destined for Siobhan. If he didn't know better, he'd say the bird was actually happy to see him.

Strix was eagerly flapping around his head, looking pleased to have an errand to run, and Severus rolled his eyes briefly before handing her the letter for Dumbledore. A quick glance around the owlery showed Aluco was nowhere in sight. Snape frowned slightly, then remembered that he'd told Potter he could use the owls. Wonderful-- no doubt Aluco was being pressed into service to carry the latest issue of Quidditch Quarterly, or something equally infantile.

Poe landed on his shoulder as he turned to leave the owlery. "She's gone. Thank almighty Audubon."

Severus smirked a bit. "I see you're still alive. Most impressive."

If birds can show annoyance with a shake of a wing, then that is what Poe did, muttering as he did so. Snape smiled and brought a hand up to stroke the raven's glossy feathers as an apology.

The bird on his shoulder, Severus made his way along the battlements back to the library tower. There was still work to do. Always and forever work, that panacea...

The late afternoon sun was washing over the walls, transfiguring dark stone into red sandstone for a moment, and despite the fact that the workroom beckoned, Severus paused to admire the view.

He loved his home; the rambling mess of it, the safety and sanctity of its strong walls, the fortress it represented against the hostile outside world. The fact that it was also a literal fortress was another example of the divine taste for irony he'd learned to appreciate at a young age.

He ought, he mused, to be more indignant that Potter was invading his house for the summer. After all, the child that made his days (and frequently nights) such a living hell three-quarters of the year, at that other fortress, had no right to rob him of this refuge as well.

Yet he, Severus Snape, had actually offered-- offered!-- his home to the Menace for the summer, he reflected sourly. It was, he supposed, a mixture of resignation and an attempt to preserve dignity... because gods knew that Albus Dumbledore would have gleefully suggested it otherwise. ("I have it, Severus! Why doesn't he just stay with you, for the summer? It's only a few months, I can think of no safer place for him in all England than Brennigan, you don't actually mind, do you, et cetera, et cetera...")

Snape's lip twisted at the thought of what the Headmaster would have said. Yes, that was why he had taken the initiative himself-- to rob Albus of the pleasure the old fiend would have taken in doing so.

Sadistic old bugger, thought Severus, not for the first time. Sadistic, manipulative, Slytherin devil.

Snape sighed. Two days down so far. Two.

It was the first time since he'd started teaching that he could remember wanting summer to go by quickly.

****

Harry read the last page of the newspaper, feeling his eyebrows stuck to his hairline, more or less, and wondering whether it was safe to laugh. He hadn't known the wizarding world had an equivalent of Private Eye.

He also hadn't known, or even remotely guessed, that it would be the kind of thing Snape would read. Or appreciate. ...Well, actually... alright, he'd always taken it as a given the man was a humorless dour git. But if he did have a sense of humour (heaven forbid) then this was the sort it would be. Vicious and nasty.

But then, the ideas: they were, well, far more liberal than he'd ever thought Snape capable of entertaining in his greasy head. Slytherins, especially Slytherins like Snapes and Malfoys, were biased, pureblood old guard. Though Harry had known since the aftermath of the Tri-Wizard Tournament that Snape was on their side, he'd always come across as condescending and unpleasant to Muggles and Muggle-borns. Certainly his attitude towards Hermione had never been even remotely supportive or encouraging.

And yet... Harry frowned, his brows furrowing in concentration. There was the paper he'd just read. There was the matter of the Muggle paintings hanging up throughout the house. There had been, if he recalled correctly, Muggle books in the vast inventory of the library tower.

The boy rolled his eyes. Figuring out Snape was like figuring out Arithmancy equations-- headache inducing, and not much visible point to it.

"Feeling better, Hari?"

He shrugged in response to the lynx's question. "I guess. Hey," he held up the Banshee, "does Snape read this a lot?"

The cat's green eyes blinked and focused on the paper. "Yes. One of his favorites of the tiny print papers. He always reads it. Why?"

"No reason." Harry set the paper back down on the table and pushed his chair back, standing. He thanked Nezzy and the other kitchen-elves for the lunch, then made a thoughtful way out into the courtyard, Macavity trailing in his wake.

The sun was shining brightly, the flagstones beneath their feet warm and pleasant. The boy and the lynx sat down on the steps by the kitchen door and mutually enjoyed the afternoon sunshine, content to sprawl in lazy silence.

Harry closed his eyes and leaned back against the sun-warmed wall, the pleasant sounds of summer filtering into his consciousness. The dragon-headed fountain on the other side of the courtyard gurgled idly away. A slight breeze picked up from somewhere, moving through the open arches in the walls and ruffling Harry's hair and Macavity's ginger fur.

The half-doze Harry started to slide into was broken by the faint sound of a door slamming, somewhere above them. Two pairs of green eyes, one human, one feline, opened lazily to watch Snape stalking along the top of the farther battlement towards the owlery tower.

"He should slow down and appreciate summer," yrraallawned the lynx. Harry nodded in agreement. How *yawn* anyone could be in a *yawn* hurry on such a day...

Snape disappeared inside the tower and the late June silence descended on the courtyard once more. It was a few more moments before one of the turret windows of the owlery opened and the large white owl, Caperian, streaked out and circled briefly around the tower, before heading off in a north-easterly direction. Macavity hissed idly.

"What's the story with that owl?" Harry asked idly, one hand flopping lazily over to scratch between the lynx's ears.

"Like the birdbrain said. Caperian is psychotic," rumbled the lynx, rolling over so that Harry could scratch her belly as well. "She turned out the worst of all of us. I am the best, obviously."

"Sorry, best of what?" Harry murmured, brain held captive by summer.

"Us. The menagerie. One of the results of Petra Snape's experiments."

"...who?" Harry muttered again, finally opening his eyes as if it would help him think. The cat rolled her own eyes. "Severus's mother. Lady Brennigan. The madwoman. You know. Petra Snape."

Harry finally sat all the way up and confessed that no, he didn't know, was he supposed to?

Macavity blinked at him sleepily and twitched the tip of her tail. "I thought all the humans had heard of Petra. And Summanus. They were in the papers that Severus reads all the time, the tiny print ones."

Harry exhaled to control his frustration. "Who's Sum-- you're talking about the newspapers, right?"

"News papers. Yes."

"And they were in the news?"

The lynx nodded, unblinking, and Harry thought. He hadn't seen any mention of a Petra or Summanus Snape in the papers, ever; and with the insular community of Hogwarts, any gossip pertaining to Snape would, he was sure, have been talked about to no end. "Macavity... when, exactly, was this?"

A feline shrug, as Macavity licked a paw. "Winter. I think. Severus was... mm. Seventeen. Yes. I hate thinking in years..."

Harry rolled his eyes. Well, that explained why he didn't know anything about it, then... "Okay. So they were in the papers, what, twenty years ago? For what?"

"It was--" Macavity suddenly broke off, avidly watching a cricket make its way across the flagstones before them, then blinked and resumed, "a very big sandal. No. Wait. Sandal is a shoe. ... I can't remember the word, Hari."

"Scandal?" Harry supplied helpfully, and the lynx nodded. "Yes. Scandal. Petra killed Summanus, and then they took her off to a white building. An empty place. None of us can feel her anymore. I miss her. Though she was mad. 'Us' is the menagerie, and--"

"Okay, then, who was Summanus?"

"Severus's father."

"... let me get this straight. Sever--Snape's mother killed Snape's father?"

"Yes, yes. But as I was saying, the menagerie, that's the five of us, we are Petra's creation. One of them, that is."

Harry remembered to close his mouth. Alright, now that was just a bit kooky. At least his parents had been killed by an outside force...

"...why?" he managed after a second.

"Because she wanted to cross traits of animals and humans. To see if it could be done."

"No-- why did she kill him?" he asked, rolling his eyes. Tenacious creature.

Mac blinked. "Oh. She was angry with him. He mated with someone else, a younger female, and Petra got upset and pushed him out a window. ...It took very little to make her upset," the cat tacked on nostalgically. Harry shook his head.

"Must be where he gets his temper from," he muttered. "Okay... so Snape's father was cheating on this Petra, so she shoved him out a window... then, what, she got taken off to St. Mungo's?"

"I believe that is the name of the building, yes. You're not interested in hearing about the five of us, are you?"

"What? No, of course I'm interested, I just--"

"You are not letting me talk about it. You want to hear about other things."

"But this is so--"

"You humans are all so very strange. You can't make up your minds about what you want."

"Now wait just a--"

"I'm going to go to sleep now." And with that, the lynx stretched out on the stone once more and promptly closed her eyes.

"Macavity... Mac! Come on, stop it. I really do want to know all about Petra and the menagerie. Really."

The lynx was silent.

"Oh come on... you're acting as petty as Snape, you know that? Come on, Mac. ...I won't give you any milk tonight if you don't tell me," Harry threatened. The tip of a ginger tail twitched once.

"I'll have the elves bring you fish..." he said, switching to bribery. Finally, the feline eye opened again.

"Alright. But no interrupting, Hari."

"Promise."

"Petra was a... like Severus. She worked in the Off-Limits Room, with the stinking liquids and the heat and dead lizard entrails and things."

Harry kept his laugh internal at the best description of potions work he'd ever heard.

"She also worked with lots of plants. And animals. Verry... inquiring of mind. She was always doing her experiments. Petra had a familiar, an occamy, that was very attractive but as 'approximately intelligent as a rock.' So she decided to try intelligence enhancing potions on it, and it went from there, or so the story goes. She bred creatures and altered their genetics with potions and spells. The five of us were the best results, after years of work; we have extended lifespans, are extremely intelligent, and are capable of your speech."

(Macavity purred, not-at-all modestly, as she said this.)

Harry mulled that over, then asked, "Who's the fifth of you, then? If Caperian's the fourth..."

"Dolophion. The snake. I have no idea where he is, you'd have to ask Severus. He took him to school and we haven't seen him since."

He filed the fact away for future reference, not bothering to ask when Macavity might be referring to because the cat-logic was already giving him a headache. Harry dropped back onto the steps and surrendered his brain once more to the insidious grasp of summer.

****

Ow. Ow. Owwww.

Let that, Harry thought sourly as he gingerly sat up, be a lesson to me to never fall asleep on hard stone steps. Ow.

He cautiously turned his neck, wincing at the multiple cricks and sore spots in his back and spine, and shot a venomous glare at the still dozing cat. Not that it was Macavity's fault, but her much smaller form managed to lie on just one stair, and thus was not as bent out of shape as his own protesting body was. Ow.

Harry shivered slightly. The air had gotten considerably cooler and the light was far less bright and summery. A glance at his watch showed it was after eight.

He leaned forward and rubbed his arms a bit, looking across the courtyard to the library tower. The dragon fountain still burbled to itself, the water sounds drifting through the air and making him thirsty. He stood, stretched, and headed inside to get a drink from the kitchen. Macavity could follow or not, whenever she woke up.

The kitchen was the usual bustle of a small battalion of house-elves, their exact number in uncountable flux. It took two repeated statements that he wasn't hungry right then, and only wanted a drink of water maybe, to get the end results of a plate of cookies, a glass of milk, and another plate of sliced fresh fruit. Harry sighed and gave up the battle, balancing the plates and glass as he exited and made his way up towards his room.

The house-elves at Hogwarts were good at going unnoticed, save in the kitchen where the confined area and conglomeration of elves made them very visible, and it was much the same here at the manor house. Harry began to notice the huge emptiness and silence of the house. He passed the open arch of a stairwell that headed down into darkness, and shuddered slightly at the chill that encompassed him. Of course it was only cold air from the cellars, but still.....

What a place to grow up, he mused again as he started climbing the spiral staircase that was the best way to get up to the next floor. One of the landings housed a balefully glaring statue of Stheno, a hundred snakes writhing on her head, and statue or not, it was compelling enough to make you want to keep right on climbing.

An immense empty old mausoleum of a house, at least in the dark... Hogwarts certainly scored over Brennigan in one respect, he thought as he reached his floor. It had people, tons of moving, living students and teachers. It had Ron and Hermione and Dean, Neville, Seamus...

Macavity's companionship might be welcome, he thought sadly as he opened the door to his room (in the process managing a feat of juggling that really ought to have been recorded), but it wasn't a substitute for the friends of six years of school.

He set the plates down and walked to the balcony, preparing to shut the doors against the coming cool of the evening. The sunset had started while he'd made the trip up to his room, and he spent a wistful moment watching the beautiful red hues and wondering if the nearest and dearest people in his world were watching it too. Then, he stepped back inside and closed the doors, the curtains falling lightly in front of the view.

Harry took the first bite of his cookies and reminded himself of one important fact: it was infinitely better than Privet Drive.