Severus surveyed the reception with some inward satisfaction. The flowers were exquisite, the food delectable, and the music divine. While he wasn't entirely sure how he had ended up planning the wedding of one of the people he liked least in the world, he had the satisfaction of knowing that he had carried it off with aplomb.
His pride demanded it.
Now that he thought about it, that might be how he ended up in this position.
He had been utterly shocked when Catherine had asked him to attend her for her wedding, especially considering the identity of the groom. Even if she did seem to mean it as some sort of acknowledgement that he might have contributed to saving her life with all those combat drills, there had been a little bit of I dare you in her eyes.
And he wondered if she was only asking him because they were sure he wouldn't accept – or if it was because they knew he was the one who would be blamed for anything that didn't come off beautifully if he did accept. Everyone would know Potter was too young to be expected to know how to arrange anything like a wedding.
Then everyone had just stared at him – which got his back up when he realized it – and the Potter brat, who was attending the wolf, had made some sort of crack about Severus keeping the boy from messing things up.
Catherine and Lupin had decided to be married in less than a week, which was simply impossible – even with Dumbledore's help – for anything more elaborate than a simple ceremony of the type that could have been held at the Registry Office.
The whole idea was preposterous.
And people were so ridiculously sentimental about weddings to begin with – Hestia had already started crying before Severus had even agreed to serve as Catherine's attendant – and everyone who cared about them would want everything to be perfect.
They wouldn't care that there hadn't been any time, or that he'd been asked to do something that simply couldn't be done, or that he was supposed to work with the Potter brat, whom he couldn't stand, to do it. The guests would show up and unconsciously expect this wedding to be very similar to others they had attended which were the product of months – or even years – of planning rather than just days.
And then somehow it became a point of honor for him.
Severus would show them that he could produce an extraordinary wedding under impossible conditions when no one expected him to pull it off.
But he had.
He surveyed the arrangements again and smiled.
Maybe this will turn out to have been good practice –
"I don't believe we've met," a woman said next to him. "I'm Adrienne Kearney, a friend of Catherine's." He turned to look at the speaker, and quickly imprinted her appearance into his memory. Dark hair and eyes, just under average height, something of an 'earth mother' appearance. Rather attractive, he decided dispassionately.
"Severus Snape," he stated. "How do you do?" He supposed he had to be civil under the circumstances. She probably assumed he was a friend of Catherine's, and it would be rude to disillusion her. He didn't actually dislike Catherine - her company was less intolerable than that of many other people, despite her habit of challenging him - but he would hardly have described her as a friend.
On the other hand, he had just stood up for her at her wedding, which he had gone to considerable trouble and expense to arrange - he shoved the disquieting thought aside.
"I understand that you're responsible for this," she told him casually, apparently referring to the reception. His discerning ear picked up a trace of an accent - not American as he had first supposed - and he listened attentively in the hope of identifying it. "It's quite lovely. How did you convince the florist to come up with the Madame Zoetmans? I thought the demand for Shape Restoration Potions would have used up most of the supply."
Severus' interest in her heightened as he realized that she was aware of the French Ministry's experiments in using the flower to combat the recent outbreak there of Kevusik's disease. The current strain had proved resistant to the standard potion, but a substitution of the leaves of the Madame Zoetmans rose for the more commonly used Leda had proved efficacious. "I had access to some additional sources," he replied non-commitally. "How did you become aware of the outbreak?"
She shrugged lightly. "An old acquaintance Floo'd me about it a while back, when they discovered the original potion was ineffective on this strain of Kevusik's. They were trying to find someone who had some experience with floral ingredients in potions and my father had worked with perfumes."
"Mommy?" The speaker who interrupted was a little girl of probably three or four.
"Yes?"
"What's the pink stuff over there?" she asked cheerfully.
"Salmon," Adrienne told her.
"What's salmon?"
"Fish."
"Can I have some?"
"Taste a little first to see if you like it. Have one of the boys help you."
"Okay." She toddled off.
Severus watched her go and realized he was probably supposed to say something inane. "Your daughter?"
"Yes," Adrienne took another sip of champagne, her eyes tracking the little girl over to an older boy. "Grace will be four in November. Tristan just turned ten, and Garrett is eight," she added.
Her earlier reference to perfumes had triggered something in his mind, and he had begun searching his memory as she spoke to her daughter. Now the reference he was looking for snapped into place.
"If I recall correctly, there was an article in Le Journal d'Alchimie several years ago comparing the process of perfume-making to potion-brewing by an Adrienne S. Richaud," he said slowly. Adrienne nodded.
"I still use my maiden name professionally."
Severus felt a twinge of satisfaction, born simultaneously of both his pleasure in finding a professional colleague so unexpectedly and of his mental facility in making the connection which had allowed him to do so. "I was most intrigued by the implications of the material regarding fixatives," he began.
Soon the two of them were deep in discussions that ranged from potion-brewing to the validity of Adalbert Waffling's theories on the relevance of bloodlines in contributing to magical talent to Carlotta Pinkstone's latest article in The International Wizarding Gazette. Finding themselves in agreement on the topic of Gaspard Shingleton's new line of cauldrons ("If Shingleton thinks that mere weight is a substitute for craftsmanship, his head must be as thick as the bottom of his new Number 10," Severus had declared scornfully, prompting a rich rumble of laughter from Adrienne) they were arguing amiably about whether the reputation of Laverne de Montmorency overrated any actual achievements when a house-elf approached, causing Snape to stop speaking abruptly.
"Yes?" he drawled.
"If you please, sir, Miss Catherine and Master Remus requested that you join them upstairs," one of the house-elves informed him, looking even more annoyingly pleased with itself than usual.
"I shall join them directly," Severus replied, and the house-elf bowed politely and disappeared.
"Catherine's sneaking out?" Adrienne guessed, humor warming her sherry eyes. Severus frowned.
"It is still quite early," he objected. Adrienne continued to look amused.
"Catherine has gotten better over the years, but I doubt she'll ever be very fond of these things, however beautifully arranged," she said knowledgeably. "Bobby had to practically dragoon her into attending the presentation ceremony when they were awarded Jameson Medals. She carried it off beautifully, but she made him fill out their log reports for a week as penance for making her show up." Severus was adding this piece of information to his mental file on Catherine when Adrienne added, "You'd better get going or you might miss her."
"I have enjoyed our conversation," he told her with a rare degree of honesty. She smiled briefly in response as he excused himself and made his way upstairs.
While Adrienne was correct in guessing that the couple were changed and obviously ready to leave, they also had gifts waiting for their attendants. Severus received the first gift – an engraved letter-opener bearing the emblems of his House – without surprise, although he did wonder what the wolf had whispered to the Potter boy that the latter found so amusing.
He opened the second box with no great expectation, and found that nestled within, in a protective wrapping of blue silk, was a book. The moment he caught sight of it, he knew it was special. The leather binding was in a style unused for centuries, although it still appeared to be in excellent condition. There were no actual words on the cover or the spine, but the center of the cover held a picture of a cat burned into the ancient leather. It was sitting and facing the reader, a small cauldron and a wand barely discernible in the background. Severus was studying the design around the edge of the cover – were there runes hidden in the pattern framing the central figure? – when the cat looked directly at him and gave a deliberately large yawn. Ignoring this and temporarily abandoning his consideration of the runes, Severus opened the book and began leafing through it, mentally translating titles as he did so.
His heart stopped before jolting back into frantic life when he realized what he was holding.
"Panacea Hildegardis – I had all but concluded that one was only a legend – Lapis clarus – Translucent Stone is a potion?" he demanded.
"Actually a potion combined with a charm, which is why no one has ever been able to duplicate it without the instructions. Now you have them. If you want to get some work in while you're here, you can find the stone cauldrons and some of the more obscure ingredients in the expanded potions lab." He looked at Catherine as she spoke and knew she was smugly amused. Severus struggled with a bizarre combination of rage, avarice, and gratitude tinged with amusement as Catherine blithely informed him of how to access the expanded potions laboratory in Stone House.
All this time, he had been working in the regular potions laboratory, thinking that Catherine had turned it over to him to use for the Order, and she had known that he didn't really have access to the whole of the laboratory after all.
And all the while, Catherine had this – a book of potions some wizards would kill for.
There had actually been a wizard war fought in the middle ages over Hildegard's Panacea, but the secret of the potion itself had been reportedly lost during the final battle – destroyed before it could be delivered into enemy hands. Translucent Stone was the foundation of the Valens family fortune, and many wizards had tried over the centuries to discover the secret Catherine's forebears had never revealed. Either of those two potions were priceless, and he had barely skimmed a few pages of the ancient book she had handed him. Severus realized his hands were shaking, and forced himself to appear calm as he nodded jerkily and started instinctively toward the laboratory. If these recipes were still effective –
He paused with his hand on the door.
Catherine had just given him one of the greatest treasures in potion-making – but only temporarily. In doing so, she had also let him know that she had kept it from him until she chose to reveal it, but he could hardly berate her for holding it back at the very moment she gave it to him! Gritting his teeth, he silently conceded this round to her, and managed to choke out a "Thank you" before stepping smartly out of the room.
He was only vaguely aware of the reception continuing as he passed swiftly through the central hall en route to the billiards room, where he used his new password – 'Victrix feles' – at the lesser-used entrance into the potions laboratory. As soon as he did, it expanded to roughly triple its normally generous size as an entire section of the laboratory he had not guessed even existed was revealed. There were new workstations, additional stores, and a number of the special stone cauldrons Catherine had mentioned. Setting aside his annoyance at being bested, he got down to work.
He was giving the potion in the large stone cauldron a stir when he realized he was not alone. There was a rather somber looking boy watching him with interest, his hands politely clasped behind his back. While it was reassuring to observe that he showed no signs of getting into anything – children in a potions laboratory were frequently disastrous – it was also disconcerting not to know how long he had been standing there, unknown to Severus. The Potions Master calmly stripped off his gloves and turned over the hourglass that would time the next stage before speaking.
"What are you doing?" he inquired.
"Just watching," the boy told him calmly before adding, in an apparent afterthought, "I know that I'm not supposed to touch anything."
"Oh?" Snape now had a fair idea who this was but didn't say so.
"May I ask what you're brewing?"
"No."
The boy nodded, accepting this with equanimity. He kept his hands clasped politely behind his back and did not press Snape any further. The Potions Master flicked a quick glance at the hourglass, looked back at the boy, and made a decision.
"I wonder if you might be able to assist me in chopping some daisy root?" he asked casually. They weren't expensive, and it wouldn't matter much if the boy mangled them – other than being nauseating to watch. Still, one boy couldn't be as bad as an entire class of first years.
The boy simply nodded and followed Severus back to the regular stores cabinet in the other part of the lab. Severus handed him some protective gloves, which he donned and fastened properly without prompting, before providing him with a supply of daisy root and settling him at the lab station Molly Weasley normally used. Severus took a seat across from him with his own supply and began the mechanical task of chopping them into the right size.
"Is that the size you want them?"
"Yes."
The boy only nodded again, but he set to work on his own pile of daisy root and began to carefully cut them into pieces the proper size. The boy didn't work quickly, but he was neat and careful. The two of them chopped away companionably for a while without speaking.
"You are acquainted with Miss Clare?" Snape asked idly after a time.
"She was my father's partner," came the quiet response. "I call her Aunt Catherine even though she isn't really an aunt."
"Ah." There was another silence, then the boy gave the Potions Master an unusually assessing look.
"Do you know much about the man she married?"
"Some."
"Do you think –" the boy hesitated. "Do you think he'll be nice to her?" There was a slightly anxious tone in his voice.
Will Lupin be nice to her? The wolf was nice to everybody, almost sickeningly so. He's even nice to me, and he knows I can't stand him.
"I expect so," was all he said aloud.
"Good." The boy relaxed infinitesimally, then seemed to feel an explanation was called for. "I only asked because she hasn't been really happy in a long time. She is now, and I wondered if it would last."
Severus merely nodded. He was not inclined to point out that one couldn't count on happiness lasting to the somber child carefully chopping his daisy root. The child probably knew that only too well anyway.
On the other hand, he was damned if he would say anything else in the way of reassurance. It would have had to be something nice about the wolf, and he didn't think he could stomach that.
----------
Potter's seventh year began a short time after the wedding, and Severus welcomed the beginning of the end. Admittedly, the usual assortment of annoying little brats had arrived, which was never pleasant, but a few of the new Slytherins showed some promise, and it was the last year he would have to put up with Potter.
The brat looked more like his father every day.
But this year, when he saw him across the Great Hall during the Sorting, he knew that it was the last Sorting Potter would attend. And that would be the case all year – only one more year's worth of dinners with Potter all too visible at the Gryffindor table. There was still much left to be endured – Quidditch matches, and Halloween feasts and so on – but every event would be sweetened by the knowledge that it was the last of its kind. His eyes rested on the messy black hair as he contemplated the future without Potter. Well, he supposed Albus would invite him to join the Order, but Severus still wouldn't have to see much of him.
As if aware of the eyes on him, Potter turned his head and met Severus' gaze across the room. Then something amazing happened.
Potter nodded at him.
It wasn't the nod Potter used when he was wishing he could say something nasty to his professor, but was forced by prudence and their respective positions to bite his tongue. It wasn't the reluctant nod of agreement that said 'Okay, I'll go along because you just happen to be right about this at the moment, but don't think it means anything.' It was more like the short jerk of the head Minerva used to greet him silently in the staff room. Certainly not affectionate, but still a fairly respectful acknowledgement.
And it was so like the way Minerva nodded at him that Severus responded to Potter the way he automatically did to her. It was not quite apparent as a nod, for the downward movement of his head was infinitesimal. What made it a nod was the brief way his lids moved as he partially dropped his gaze for a moment.
It was all over in an instant, and then Harry was watching the Sorting without the slightest sign that anything at all had happened. And Severus watched it as well, with his accustomed expression of disdain on his face. But behind his expression, he was wondering what the hell had just happened.