A/N: I'd like to take the opportunity to especially thank my reviewers
for the last chapter reviews; they were especially enjoyable and I got
more than I usually do. *beams* I really wish I had the time to reply
to all of them, but I'd prefer to spend the time working on the story.
And if I were to only reply to one or two of them, I'd worry about
disappointing those I didn't reply to.

There have certainly been a number of them that I've wanted to send
responses for...

Anyway, LJ is still here: http://www.livejournal.com/users/athenakt/

This chapter is actually dedicated to one of my reviewers who spotted
an inconsistency that I'm clearing up this chapter. And as this chapter
is rather late, I'm making this one rather longer for two weeks worth.
Hope you enjoy! Details at the LJ.

I also believe I'm going to have to up the rating to PG-13 for some
very depressing thoughts. Well, I did put this in the Angst category,
didn't I? ;)

Just to review, text between // marks are flashbacks.

Disclaimers apply as always.

-----------------------------------

Chapter 39

With his less than satisfactory reply to the boy, Severus irritably
grabbed at his quill, quickly confirmed that he'd completed his last
thought and put his previous project to the side in favor of the
parchment from the scan. In order to forestall any further interruption,
Severus checked the time and growled, "Another ten minutes. Now, do
be quiet for that period of time or the effort behind waiting an hour will
be a waste."

Thankfully the boy pouted and went back to the chair to sit down,
leaving Severus in peace. He could take the time to pull his somewhat
tattered shield back around himself and keep from thinking of Albus'
deceptions; those thoughts unpleasantly lead to the past. His internal
sigh was nearly transformed into an exclamation before he managed to
subdue it; what he was reading from the parchment was ... strange.
Oh, some of what he could discern for himself was nothing more than
what he'd expected, but there were small bits of ... interference is the
best description that he could think of, and it was centered around
Potter. Shaking his head in puzzlement, Severus noted that section as
one of the areas to consult with Vector on later.

Delving into the portions that were somewhat more readable, Severus
found the unsurprising existence of a cord-like link between Potter and
himself. Seemingly this was the method of the exchange of energies
between them on those occasions that one of them healed the other.
There were also a few other odd readings from around them, likely the
energies they both contained now that these new abilities had been
activated.

While the rune room had always been of enormous help to him, this
particular issue was clearly something more complicated than the
occasional stray hex or tracing charm. Severus decided one of his next
areas of research would be to apply his own specialty of potions to the
new situation that he and Potter found themselves in. It had been
some time since he'd had enough time or necessity to break new
boundaries in the field of Potions ... not since he and his father ... His
father whose brilliant mind was slowly being destroyed.

The clock on his mantelpiece quietly chimed the hour, startling Severus
out of his increasingly distressing thoughts. Time to run the scan, and
he had barely been able to gather himself back together before finding
additional rents in his armor developing. Severus' jaw was tight with
tension as he ordered Potter to follow him back into the room. He
would make do. He would maintain control.

Potter walked into the room, casting a glance back at him that seemed
to be both curious and troubled, but he remained otherwise silent as
he moved into his previous position in the scanning area. What the boy
might be seeing was something Severus didn't care to dwell upon as he
produced his wand and made the necessary adjustments and spells to
activate the room's scanning.

The usual sensations washed over Severus, and he found himself
losing some of his control over his emotions. The feeling of washing
sunlight and faint spring breezes always brought him to remember their
soothing balm across his skin as he stood in Dumbledore's office.
Normally he was able to concentrate on other things, but his current
state of mind worked against him and he plunged into memory...

* * * * *

//A wafting of fresh air from an unseen open window ... Snape wished
he could throw himself through it to plunge to his death on a
convenient turret. Or perhaps to drown in the lake. What part of the
castle was the Headmaster's office located in? He'd never been able to
figure it out; there was something very strange about the room.
Unsurprising considering its occupant.

He refocused his attention upon the seated Headmaster who seemed
to be involved in the task of summoning forth a late night tea. Snape
went over the events of the previous few minutes to see if he'd missed
something to warrant the Headmaster's casual behavior. Let's see, he'd
gained entry using the special password the Headmaster had given him
just after the Shrieking Shack incident in the case he wanted or needed
to talk to the Headmaster about it. Snape had never had the urge to
take him up on the offer. Until now.

He'd entered the office, half expecting to be struck down by a powerful
ward and not being entirely concerned about that apart from the delay
to his intended task. Holding his wand by the tip rather than by the
handle, he had placed it upon the Headmaster's desk and taken a step
back in the formal Wizard gesture of Surrender. The older wizard sitting
behind the desk solemnly watched Snape for some moments before
beaming a pleased smile at him and exclaiming, "Severus, so good to
see you. You look famished. Would you like some tea? And some
chocolate covered biscuits, I think. Yes." Having answered himself, the
Headmaster had set himself to the task he was just now completing
when Snape came back to the present.

"I've come to turn myself in. You've got to help my Father." The latter
sentence wasn't a command or even a plea; instead it was couched in
a raspy and deadened voice that Snape didn't recognize as his own.

"Now now, there will be enough time for that after you've had a bite to
eat," the Headmaster sternly replied. "You look as though you're about
to collapse. Sit down."

His desperation surged to the fore as Snape nevertheless found himself
sitting at the Headmaster's command despite his best intentions.
"There is no time," he choked out, "They've taken him. They'll throw
him in Azkaban without a trial. He'll be destroyed." Snape's eyes
widened and he felt unshed tears there. "... destroyed. You've got to
stop it ... Please. Do anything to me."

Waving one hand, Dumbledore murmured, "I hardly think that will be
necessary, my dear boy. We shall see what can be done about your
father, but it may be difficult in these dark times. If he bears the Mark,
the consequences have been decreed by the Ministry."//

* * * * *

//"Why did you join him, Father?" Severus asked as they diced roots
together. It was the summer before his third year at Hogwarts and the
day after his birthday. Parcelsis, Severus' father, had made it known to
Severus that having reached the age of thirteen, Severus was now
mature enough to be told certain things. His father's allegiance to
Voldemort being one of them.

The senior Snape furrowed his brow in brooding thought as his knife
moved with unerring precision, cutting his root into neat rows of cubes.
"It is partially for the knowledge and resources he has afforded me.
When it comes to the issue of the furtherance of the knowledge of
Wizardkind, not to mention the archiving of our past discoveries- no
matter how insignificant or how dark- you cannot always rely on the
Ministry to do what is right. They sneer at that which they do not deem
suitable for the masses at large and declaim some very important
discoveries as Dark magic when it could be used just as easily for the
benefit of all. I am of the hopes that you have come to understand this
in the lessons I've given you during your youth."

"Yes, Father," young Severus solemnly replied. His own roots weren't of
the exactitude of his elder, but for his age they were done with a
startling ease from years of practice. Pausing politely before
continuing, Severus placed his root cubes in with the others that were
done and reached for another. "You said that that was part of the
reason?"

Leaving Severus to finish the remaining two roots, Parcelsis cleaned his
knife and board before starting on the next ingredient, slicing open
stewed snails with a single swift movement and depositing each
prepared snail into another bowl. "Quite. The other reason is due to a
Wizard's debt." Father and son both valued communication in as few
wasted words as possible, so rather than requiring his son to inquire as
to the nature of the debt, he answered the unasked question. "The
elder Mr. Malfoy, Cassius, and I were housemates as you and his son
Lucius were, only Mr. Malfoy is my senior by two years...

"There had been a ... terrible incident when your mother and I were out
in Muggle London- you were staying with the Malfoys for the evening,
and we were on our way from the restaurant to collect you before
returning home." It was rare that Severus' father showed any
discomfort or allowed grief to slip past the bonds of logic, but at that
moment it seemed difficult for him to fully restrain them. His hands
trembled slightly as he deposited the diced roots into the quietly
steaming potion they were working on, stirring the mixture carefully.
"... One of those Muggle cars swerved from the road when it was
turning the corner. The Ministry later told me it was a drunk Muggle,
but that didn't stop the driver from speeding away without further
issue. I was barely able to stay conscious long enough to send a
message to Malfoy Manor through the device I always carried with
me when you stayed there...

"When I'd ... regained consciousness ... Cassius saved my life. And the
Ministry... they never found who killed your mother, Severus. The
Ministry of Magic and all of their departments couldn't see their way to
finding the culprit. Eventually the case was dropped altogether."

Severus wanted to protest against what had happened- the injustice of
it. But he couldn't speak the words past the horrified anger that
stopped his throat. His knife was poised over another of the many
ingredients to be prepared and added to their potion, all movement
aborted. It was when his logic-trained mind realized that protest would
avail him of nothing that he found himself able to move again. He put
his knife down and pressed his hands down flat upon the surface of the
table, fingers becoming stained with the juices of what he'd just been
cutting. Eventually he looked back up at his Father who took that as
his prompting to go on.

"Cassius took further steps to get what he could from the Ministry, but
there was only so much they would do, even with his influence.
Eventually he decided to take me to someone who could help. He knew
and was willing to use the spells necessary to track down the Muggle
who was responsible. He brought him before me ... and he killed him."
Severus shivered at the words, unable to tear his gaze from the
unusually grim figure of his Father who was staring intently at the snail
he was now preparing. "He carried out my honor, and so I thusly owe it
to him. As I owe Cassius my life. It is a Wizard's Bond, Severus-
something I take quite seriously, and so should you. Your word is
something to be kept, and thusly to be valued by others."

"Yes, Father." Severus was thankful for the opportunity to respond to
something familiar rather than this new knowledge that gnawed at his
stomach.//

* * * * *

//The special box that Severus' Father gave him the summer before his
sixth year was carefully hidden in his trunk, covered by a notice-me-not
charm he'd learned for such things years ago. When he woke to get an
early start on the first day of school, Severus promptly delved into the
trunk past the charm to take out the vial of potion that his Father's
spell had delivered.

As he snuck into the shower to make use of the hair potion, Severus
remembered with warmth the complexity of the arrangement his Father
had made for him, and the brilliant intellect necessary for its discovery;
it was at times like this that he was most proud to be his Father's son.

The box was specially crafted for its purpose; it was for all intents a
new type of portkey for the receipt of the vials of potion that his Father
sent. This was only half of the invention, however. His Father's
cauldron itself was a craft of masterwork, layered with spells of his
own making. Those potions that did not need special methods of
preservation or highly uncommon ingredients could literally be
summoned from the cauldron. All it took was the replenishing of the
basic materials needed- a task he'd trained his house elves to do with
great efficiency. The final touch was a timed and recurring spell to
summon forth and stopper the potion in a vial for delivery. In this
way, Severus was assured of the delivery of his hair potion even on
those days that his Father might be called away by The Dark Lord.

Severus smiled with certainty as he massaged the potion into his
darkening hair. There was no way he was going to be caught out by the
Marauders by using his own hair against him again.//

* * * * *

When the scan started, Harry was met with the sight of Severus
standing firmly poised to spring into action as was his wont, and then
suddenly his expression crumpled into one of grief and anger as he
sank to the floor, seemingly unaware of his surroundings. Quickly
Harry went to support Severus, trying to call him back from where he
had gone. The aura surrounding the older wizard showed evidence of
the shards of self-loathing piercing the thinned layers of his
detachment.

As Harry called to Severus, he ran his hands over the areas of
Severus' aura that was wounded by the shards. While he watched,
those areas became gradually soothed and the pain in Severus'
expression slowly became a grief born of sadness and not anger.
Continuing his efforts at soothing seemed to do good although
Severus didn't immediately return to awareness. The coolness that
Harry felt he used to channel through to Severus in the hopes it would
be of help. Once the scan had completed and the room had grown
more quiet, Severus stirred. Dark eyes blinked open, clouded with
confusion, and a roughened voice murmured, "What happened?"

"I was just about to ask you that," Harry gently replied.