20/20: Time will tell
The edge of the table dug into Severus' ribs. Severus released his hold and Black fell back onto his chair. They briefly met each other's gaze, and glanced away. Severus looked down into the Pensieve. The memory was still there, swirling gently, incongruously.
Severus understood Time: as a healer; as a constraint; that it sometimes needed a stitch; sometimes it was wasted; it should not be squandered; it told.
Time will tell.
And, sometimes, it was stolen.
(Recap – '20/20: Black's Worst Memory')
Severus turned these thoughts over in his head. The irony, the breath-taking irony, was not lost on him.
Pettigrew had not only Obliviated him, he had Obliviated Black and modified his memory. And Severus was quite certain that Black had not the slightest suspicion of this. Pettigrew had arced his wand, removing something that he thought would incriminate him to his friend, something worse than conspiring to commit rape.
The thing was, as ugly as the scene had been up to that point, it had not seemed to Severus that Black had intended to rape him. And, with the clarity of 20/20 Pensieve vision, it was apparent to Severus that Pettigrew had made him do it by magical means: he had used his wand to cast, not just the Obliviation, but another spell too.
There goes my revenge..
Severus ran his thumb along his lips, frowning. He felt cheated: the viewing of memory he had thought would settle his curiosity and this matter, was not in Black's accessible mind, but in the inaccessible one of the Dark Lord's left-hand man.
Fuck.
Furthermore, it would appear that Sirius Black was not to blame for what had happened.
Well, what a turn up for the books: Black innocent, again. He really is beginning to smell of roses.
Pettigrew had cast a controlling curse: not Imperius, because that would have been picked up by the Misuse of Magic Office, but another, more subtle one, a much lesser known one that only someone obsessed with magical knowledge might know. Someone had tutored the boy, but still his opinion of the rogue wizard went up: he was more proficient than he had thought, and after all this incident was only four years before he sold his own friends to the Dark Lord.
This visit was in danger of turning into rather a disappointment.
The glassy thud of Black's whiskey glass on the table made him glance up. The mellow light of the kitchen did not do Black's stricken expression true justice: he just looked like any man, drowning feeble sorrows.
Do the heavens see? thought Severus: and what is it they see? That a boy, now a man, had been violated? That a boy, now a man, had been tricked? That a boy, now a man, should pay? Severus was not naïve: he knew that in the natural order of things, people were wronged, and never got recompense –
Black suddenly leaped up, knocking the table and overturning his chair, completely startling Severus so much that his wand was in his hand before he was aware of it. But Black just staggered to the sink, and began to vomit.
Severus lowered his wand, watching him, not quite seeing: were these crimes important, in the entire scheme of things?
He shook that Dumbledore-esque thought from his head: of course they fucking were. Dumbledore saw it fit to leave the Potter boy in a Muggle household where he was as unloved a boy as ever there was one – despite it being obvious that any boy with Slytherin potential – which he knew the boy had – required the most careful and loving family life lest …. lest ….
Damn it, the small things mattered
The sour stench of vomit vanished as Black cleaned himself up with wand and water. Severus studied him. Fury and frustration roiled inside him. He felt he could only just bear it. He felt cheated.
Black turned and leaned against the sink, mopping his mouth with a tea towel and regarding the Pensieve as it if was going to erupt. He opened his mouth to speak.
"Please don't say you're sorry," Severus cut in, dryly, sitting down again.
"I was going to say I can think of plenty of ways that thing could be put to better use," Black replied, apparently attempting levity.
"Ah. You mean by observing consensual encounters."
Black stared at him, off-balance. Water dripped from his hair, darkening the front of his shirt. Severus half-expected him to shake himself. But he just stared for a moment, then lowered his eyes to stare at the Pensieve.
"Snape," he said, then stopped, raised his eyes, approached the table. "Severus. Look, we're on the same side here. There are good reasons why we hate each other, and … not so good reasons. Who gives a fuck any more?"
"They are small matters, after all," Severus murmured.
Black pulled up his chair and sat carefully. "I'm … sorry," he said after a measured pause. "I'm sorry I was that boy." He met Severus' eyes, unblinking. "I'm sorry I did that to you. I don't … know why … but believe me, I am sorry."
Severus stared: he had, of course, expected an apology, even from the Mutt; but this was somehow more disappointingly poignant than he had anticipated. Especially in light of the fact that Black was not entirely guilty.
Black regarded him speculatively. Severus toyed with the idea of exerting Legilimens upon him to see how genuine the apology was.
Black buried his face in his hands and groaned, "That was …" his voice trailed off incomprehensibly. He raised his head and stared at the Pensieve. "Can we blast that thing into oblivion?"
"Rid you of the memory?" Severus said, slowly. "Of course. You've suffered enough. Why should you have to suffer that again."
Black stared at him in astonishment, then his expression hardened. "Bloody hell, I almost believed you then."
They fell into silence. Severus felt he had nothing more to say, or even do. Strangely, everything he had imagined saying and doing to Black seemed inappropriate – not because the man had been coerced, but because he suddenly felt … not quite himself.
Black poured himself a drink. "You, uh, want to go to Dumbledore with this, I suppose."
A cold hand clenched Severus' heart. "I think not," he said, thinly.
"Come on, Snape: it's proof of what a bastard I am."
Severus smirked. "We didn't need this to tell us that."
"Dumbledore's your man. Your pro-tec-tor." Black clipped the last word and downed the Ogden's in one. It appeared to sting his throat, this time.
"Yours too."
"You've got one up on me, though." Black winced again. "Bad pun. Bad. I am sorry, Snape. I am."
"Of course. You've disappointed yourself. You thought you were better than that. A hero."
"I'd bet you've done worse, for fun."
Severus met the man's eyes. "But I am not a Gryffindor. I have no high moral expectation of myself."
Black barked a laugh. "I do believe – why, Severus, I believe I've disappointed you too!"
Severus snarled.
"Look, I want to be punished," Black said, seriously, "I want people to know what I did."
Severus leaped back from the table, biting back his gut reaction, trying to maintain control. Finally, he said, in as low and dangerous a tone as he could muster, "I have no desire to share my humiliation with anyone, Black. I assure you, whatever you feel–!" He stopped.
Black was gazing evenly up at him. He leaned back into his chair. "I saw it," he said.
"What?"
"Peter Obliviated me."
Ah. "You think that's what happened?"
"Don't try that on me, you cunning git!" Black thumped the table. "You were going to let me believe it was all my own work!"
They glared at each other
"You deserve all you get," Severus spat.
"Where's your Order of Merlin, you sad, sarcastic bastard? You're not whiter than white."
Severus heard his own dry laugh crackle around the candle-licked room. "We return to this: that I am inherently evil and nothing else matters. The world is not black and white. Or Gryffindor and Slytherin."
"You should try to remember that sometime," Black snarled. "Let's see, where were we? Peter charmed me, I buggered you, Peter Obliviated me, Peter Obliviated you, and here we are having tea. Sorry, Firewhiskey." Black slurped. "And now you're probably going to try to hex the arse off me, because you realise I'm not the complete bastard you thought I was." His voice dropped to a hoarse whisper. "But you still hate me anyway, and it's too good to resist, isn't it, Severus?"
Severus stared at him in wonder. Black was so arrogant and careless. And drunk. He didn't care, he really didn't care, what might happen next. The man was so blasé.
"Raped," he corrected, evenly.
Black frowned, then shrugged and nodded. "Right. Raped. I raped you."
The painful physical sensation that had touched him inside the memory brushed past his awareness again, and he shuddered, almost gagging. He regarded the glass Black had poured for him. He took a drink: it burned; good.
"Could've been worse," Black murmured, "could've been Peter."
Severus didn't even realise that he had cast the hex until he was crouching over Black, who had been knocked backwards so far his head was almost in the fireplace. "You disgusting mutt," he seethed into Black's face. "You stinking, hairy, drunken, self-obsessed failure."
"That's more like it, Snivellus," Black breathed, toxically.
Severus poked his wand into the slightly saggy flesh at Black's throat. "You're pathetic and worthless." He drew in a steadying breath, and withdrew his wand. "Fortunately for Potter, there are other role models in his life, for him to spend time with and learn from." Though it probably wasn't prudent to mention that he was not one of them after the Occlumency lesson tonight.
Black didn't take the bait. He slowly blinked up at him. Severus leaned in until their noses almost touched.
"You know you'll never be as worthy as his parents thought you were."
Black's expression did not change: he did know. "It's almost like love, isn't it," he said, softly, "this hate."
"I wouldn't know," Severus replied with a genuine sneer.
Black laughed, raspingly. "One might almost say I've had a crush on you since we were eleven, eh, Severus?"
"Do you want me to curse you into next week?" Severus snapped, incredulously.
"I don't give a shit. Do something, for fuck's sake. This is the second time you've mounted me tonight. What do you say, Severus, an eye for an eye?" Black's chest shuddered with laughter. "Shall I roll over?"
Severus slid off him and got to his feet, tucking away his wand.
"Aw, go on, Severus: you know you want to."
Severus took another drink to quash his nausea. He could not speak, not even terrible words.
There was a noise in the hallway outside and they fell silent. A voice called, in a loud whisper, "Padfoot?"
"Oh, Moony," came the sigh from the hearth.
Lupin. Severus looked wildly at the strange array on the table as footsteps came down the hall towards them. There was no time to hide the Pensieve. Black looked unconcerned as he propped himself up on one arm, and wiped his cheeks with the back of his hand.
The door opened. Lupin's habitually calm expression changed to one of cautious alarm as he viewed what must have been an odd scene.
"Lupin," Severus greeted, and gracefully seated himself at the table.
"Severus. Uh. Sirius –?"
"Don't fret, Moony," Black said, struggling to his feet and banging his head on the lintel. "Merlin's bollocks!"
Lupin's gaze moved from his friend to the table top, then to Severus, and back again. "Right. Don't fret."
"It's OK!" Black sank into his chair, rubbing his head. "Sev and I were just having a drink."
"I really must be going," Severus said, pointedly, wanting to avoid Lupin's questioning, and feeling out-numbered.
"No," said Black. "Moony, bugger off, will you? We've got unfinished business."
"No," Severus said, "I believe we're done."
"I insist," Black said.
"Fuck you," Severus replied, twisting his mouth into a grim smile.
"Yes," Lupin said, blandly, "I see, just a drink."
"Maybe you can talk some sense into him," Severus said.
"Not so far," Lupin frowned.
"Professor Dumbledore will require the return of his Pensieve," Severus said.
Black gestured. "Take it."
Severus twirled his wand between his finger and thumb. "Your memories," he said.
"These are yours?" Lupin asked, glancing speculatively at the bowl. To Severus it looked as if he looked more worried than was usual.
"Yeah," Black said. "Help yourself, Moony. I sure as hell don't want them, Severus obviously doesn't."
"Get out, Moony," Severus said. "I mean, Lupin."
"Now you're seeing sense," Black growled.
"I'm not happy about this," said Lupin.
"Well, you're out-numbered," Black said, shortly. "'Cause we're both bloody ecstatic about our new friendship, aren't we, Severus?"
Lupin looked at them both, thoughtfully, then left.
The kitchen door clicked shut and Severus raised his wand and shot long, snakelike cords towards Black, binding him to his chair. Slowly, Severus advanced. Only the movement of his captive's eyes showed any emotion as he lifted an elastic strand of the memory and touched it to Black's brow.
First thing first: Black deserved these memories back.
Beyond that …. There was limited time to plan and plot, but he would be sure to set aside sufficient attention.
The small things are important. And this was huge. He sensed it, a blackness in his soul, a blankness, devoid of the appropriate emotions. Knee-jerk reaction was simply not appropriate enough a response for this.
Revenge is a dish best eaten cold.
He said, mustering calm, "Don't for one moment think that this makes it alright, Black."
Black growled, sullenly.
The Pensieve was scoured of all traces of what had happened, and Severus released him and tucked the item into his robes. "Thank you for your hospitality," he said to Black's downcast gaze. "It's been most illuminating."
"I'll get him first."
"What?"
"I'll get to him before you do." Black's eyes met his. "Peter."
Severus held his gaze for a moment. "But my revenge," he said, slowly, savouring the thought, "will be the more painful. I guarantee."
"We won't mention this again? Snape? Severus?"
But Severus had already swept from the kitchen. He could no longer trust himself to speak.
He stalked from the house, the hard lump of the Pensieve banging against his hip. He cut across the street, down an alley, and intothe shadows, where he Apparated to Hogwarts' gates.
Mention it again. Why would they wish to? For all Black's wanting to 'share' the experience with a third party, he would not. Severus was sure.
Surely not.
The headmaster was having a late cup of tea in his office. Severus unwrapped the bowl from his robes and went straight to put it back in the cupboard.
"Before you go, how is Harry doing?"
"He's lazy, impertinent and immature."
"Keep plugging away," said the Headmaster, with a wink. "And how was Sirius?"
Severus said, through his teeth, "Lupin stopped by, did he?"
Dumbledore studied him over the tops of his half-moon spectacles. "Some sort of counselling session, I presume."
Severus nodded, warily.
"I told Remus as much. The Pensieve is very useful for that. I commend you on your …. initiative. I hope it helped you both to bury the past, Severus. Or go some way to repairing damage done."
Severus clamped his jaw on a bitter smirk and inclined his head. "I'm sure it has, headmaster. Goodnight."
"Sleep well, Severus."
Though Severus was already certain he would not.
To be continued. Don't forget to sign up for email alerts!
NOTES AND NODS
Wow, I've been blown away by the number of hits on this fic.
Thanks to my reviewers – Kitala, Marauder3Moony, Melissa Jooty, Betty, Neous – your comments are bolstering my confidence to continue writing this difficult story.
Melissa – your suggestions have been noted :-)
Thanks also to Kira Snape, Stone Dog, Unspoken Tragedy, Waywardly (book-marked to favs) and Blued Black, Lethe82 (signed up for updates). I'm honoured.
Last but not least, my beta Thirteen Ravens for her encouragement and advice, and Reflection in Fire for her time and effort.