Follows events of HBP. Anything recognizable is from the lovely and very talented Ms. Rowling. I'm just borrowing some of her characters. I solemnly swear to return them in the same state in which I found them.
"What's so funny?"
For the second time that evening, Severus was sitting in front of a fire with one of his Masters, but this time he was in his own sitting room, relaxing in his own favorite chair. Albus was also sitting in front of the fire, but he seemed a little pensive, and uncharacteristically tired or possibly even a little depressed. Snape knew that he had still not resolved all of the issues with some of the experimental potions he'd given Dumbledore, and one in particular could be causing some of the symptoms he was seeing. Thankfully, it would not be necessary for Dumbledore to take that particular one any longer.
Snape smirked again and said, "Three down--one to go." At Dumbledore's questioning look, Snape explained, "The Marauders—Lupin is the only one left now."
"You make it sound like you're on a mission," said in a reproving tone.
"In a way it has been, and I can't deny that none of them have been mourned by me, Peter least of all. However, Lupin is the least repulsive of the bunch, and he's certainly the most harmless, for all he's a werewolf and has nearly killed me twice!"
Dumbledore showed his unwillingness to traverse that path yet againwith Severusby changing the subject.
"I do apologize for taking your bed, Severus, but I was unwilling to take up Peter's... quarters," Dumbledore said, glancing with a shudder at the cage in the corner of the sitting area.
"Yes, the rat was always every bit as slovenly as his human counterpart was, and the twelve years he spent exclusively as a rodent didn't improve his hygiene. He certainly won't be missed." With a lazy flick of his wand, Severus banished the cage and its disgusting contents into the laboratory area to be disposed of later.
"Yet he was more useful in the end than we could possibly have hoped or dreamed," Dumbledore mused as he stretched his hands in front of him and observed them. "And it is nice to have both hands whole again."
They then fell into a comfortable silence in which both men processed the events of the day and came to terms with their very changed circumstances. There was much to plan and much to prepare, but that could all wait until tomorrow...or the next day.
Several weeks later:
Hermoine was crying. No, sobbing would better describe her reaction to what she was seeing.
"Hermione, you're at a wedding, not a funeral!" Ron hissed at her.
"I know, b-but just l-look at the four of them!"
Ron rolled his eyes at Harry as the two exchanged glances over Hermione's bent head. Since many of the same people would want to come to both weddings, and the future was so uncertain, Bill, Fleur, Tonks, and Remus had made the decision to have a double wedding. As Harry looked at them, he was struck again by how ironic it was that a werewolf, whose body went through an enforced, painful transformation once a month, matched so perfectly together with a woman who regularly morphed herself just because she could. After the initial surprise, Harry had wondered that he'd never noticed their affinity for one another. But then, he hadn't seen much of either one of them in the past year. And then there were Bill and Fleur—he with his permanently scarred face and body, and she with her ethereal, flawless beauty. His thoughts then turned to Ron and Hermione, she with her love of intellectual pursuits, and Ron, who would prefer not to crack open a book unless it was absolutely necessary. And then there was Ginny—but no, he shouldn't even be thinking about her.
But there she was, bright hair and all, sitting beside her mother two rows in front of him. She, with her parents and six older brothers in contrast to him—no parents, no siblings, no relatives who were even still alive, besides the Dursleys. One day, though, there would be more members of the Potter family, both red and black-haired, both hazel and green-eyed. One day he and Ginny would stand up there in front of everyone and he could tell the world that she was his...no, no, he really should concentrate on the vows that the couples at the front were now exchanging. But then concentration had never been his strong point, had it...
"No Unforgivables from you...until you learn to keep your mouth shut and your mind closed, Potter!"
"Clear your mind, Potter! Legilimens!""...you will find yourself easy prey for the Dark Lord."
"Discipline your mind, Potter! Legilimens!"Why did everything have to come back to Snape? Why couldn't he just forget about him? Forget about the taunts, and the failed Occlumency lessons. Forget the hateful look on his face when he killed Dumbledore, and then later when he dueled Harry. Harry burned inside again at the thought of the "duel" between the two of them. He knew that Snape could easily have killed him right then. But no, he was saving Harry for the Dark Lord, because of course both Voldemort and Snape knew the prophecy in its entirety, and probably had known it ever since Snape carried word to him after hearing it directly from Trelawney. But then it came to Harry with a flash of insight. Why then had Voldemort been so desperate to get the prophecy from the Department of Mysteries. Why? He turned to Hermione who was now leaning against Ron and smiling as she wiped her eyes. He'd ask her as soon as the wedding was over.
Thanks to all who reviewed the last chapter, including those who perhaps tried to and couldn't because I inadvertently left the anonymous review blocker on. Anonymous reviewers—please feel free to review now! (hint, hint) This is the very first time for me to write any kind of fiction, so I'm definitely learning as I go. Any constructive criticism is very welcome.