Chapter Twenty-Two

Remus Lupin thought that if sorrow had had a shape, it would have formed the picture before him. Tarquinius was sitting at his son's bed, his face bearing the expression of hopelessness and grief. Severus was asleep after all those potions that Madame Pomfrey had given him. She had been frowning a lot and worry had been evident in her face as she tended to Severus. The remnants of the binding spell were still working on Snape's body, weakening his immune system, and Lupin knew that the Potions Master would never be truly free while Voldemort lived. It was almost ironic that until the dark wizard's death he would have to stay at Grimmauld Place, locked in the dark ancient house like Sirius had been, hiding from Voldemort's wrath. Undoubtedly, he would be feeling useless, just like Sirius had felt. Would it make him bitterer?

A sigh from Tarquinius made him concentrate on the father and son again. The elder Snape was stroking Severus's hair tenderly, his big fingers caressing him as if they were afraid of hurting him, breaking him. They moved slowly to the calm face, brushing lightly his forehead, the closed eyes, high cheekbones, his cheeks, but despite being asleep, Severus turned away from the feathery touches. Remus could see how a slight frown settled in his face and how Tarquinius closed his grey eyes.

"I used to hate him," he whispered so quietly that the werewolf could barely hear him, "My dear Sophie was a fragile and sickly woman, and Severus's birth damaged her health further. I blamed him for her death."

"It's never too late to ask forgiveness, Mr Snape," said Lupin, feeling melancholy creeping slowly upon him. In answer Tarquinius laughed - a harsh, pained sound devoid of any hope or joy.

"I've thought you know my son better than that, Mr Lupin. Why should he forgive me? No one has ever taught him that. The only ones ever showing some kindness to the boy have been Lucius and the Dark Lord. Severus doesn't forgive, he doesn't know how. Has he ever forgiven you, Mr Lupin?"

"He surely loves you," objected the werewolf, ignoring the question, "He wanted to protect you, he took care of you, paid a healer to help you…"

"Ah, I see," smiled Tarquinius, "You don't know him," he murmured, taking his son's hand into his, "Severus never forgets. He's keeping everything deep inside himself, remembers, and holds grudges. And he's got this strong sense of responsibility and duty, that's why he's helping me. He thinks it's his duty to take care of me now when he's the stronger one."

"You may be mistaken…"

The older wizard shook his head, cradling Severus's hand in his, studying it closely. "I like his hands, you know, hands of a Potions Master. Hands that have created wonderful things unlike mine…"

"Have you ever considered to stop feeling sorry for yourself and to actually start working on yourself and on regaining Severus's trust, Tarquin?"

Both Lupin and the elder Snape flinched at Dumbledore's words. None of them had noticed him standing in the doorway; he must have arrived as quietly as a ghost. Behind him Alastor Moody stood, eyeing Tarquinius with badly hidden disgust. After a strained moment of silence when Remus watched the Auror and the former Death Eater glare at each other and felt their strong enmity, Dumbledore asked softly, "How is Severus? I need to talk to him."

"He's going to be fine, headmaster," replied Lupin as Tarquinius was occupied by Mad-Eye Moody, "He needs rest, of course, but he's healing well, considering the circumstances."

The headmaster nodded. "Very well, we should let him rest then. Come, Alastor, we have some pressing matters to attend to."

"Death Eaters in Grimmauld Place, for instance," murmured Moody, casting one last hateful glance at Tarquinius before Dumbledore led him downstairs. The Snape senior heaved a deep breath and with half-closed eyes he averted his head to look at his son, "My dear Severus, I assure you that I'm not the only one in this house in need of help."

Was it Remus's imagination or did indeed a tiny smile curl Snape's lips? It couldn't be, could it? After all those potions… He hesitated for some moments, then decided to leave the two Snapes on their own and followed Dumbledore and Moody downstairs.

§§

In a hidden part of the Malfoy Mansion Lucius lay in a huge four-poster bed staring into darkness with wide open eyes. He watched it as though it were a thing that could fascinate and make afraid. His fingers moved towards it as if trying to grasp it, then fell back onto the satin pillows. He had nearly killed him… How ghastly the mere memory of that scene was! Each hideous detail came back to him with added horror, he saw it all again. It had hurt too, doing it. But had he had any other choice? Either Severus had had to die or he. And as much as he cared for his cousin, it wasn't enough, he certainly didn't want to die for him.

"I'm sorry, Severus," he whispered. As he always to be burdened by this… this failed attempt at his cousin's life? It had failed, so why was he thinking about him? All in all, it had come out perfectly - Severus wasn't dead (so far) and his master, though certainly furious, didn't doubt his loyalties anymore. No, he had earned so much - not only had he regained the Dark Lord's trust and favour, but he had also strengthened his position in the inner circle. The master had looked at him proudly, seeing what he was capable of. But still… the look in Severus's eyes, his cousin had felt betrayed and it had hurt seeing it in his eyes.

"Why have you sided with that mudblood lover, Severus? With all that scum, half-breeds and mudbloods, why?"

At last he got up from the bed, unlocked the dark mahogany cabinet in the bedroom and brought out a pensieve. If he wanted to stay on the winning side and remain Voldemort's most trusted follower and a friend, he couldn't have Severus haunting his conscience.

§§

"Your goodness borders on insanity and stupidity, Albus! Two Death Eaters, one vampire, what were you thinking?"

Arenwald opened his eyes when the angry words from a heated argument reached his ears. Where was he? He moaned in pain as he remembered what had happened… the day or two days before? His burnt flesh was reminding him of the events far too accurately. Damned humans! He should have known better than sticking his nose into their affairs, it had never paid off well to him. Where was he now? Who had shouted? What had happened to the professor? And there was he again. No, he didn't care. Hopefully everyone was dead, not causing problems anymore.

Someone must have noticed that he was awake, for he walked over to his bed, quietly except for the faint whisper of robes. A wizard then. He managed to clear his eyes and focus his gaze at the tall dark figure (a Death Eater?) and was stunned to see that it was the professor. Looking at him, he realised how hungry he was, his body needed fresh human blood healing. "Go away," he whispered hoarsely, feeling hunger consuming him with its power. If the professor was alive, was that cretin, his cousin, dead?

"You will drink this," said the Potions Master firmly, putting a glass to his lips. Arenwald obliged, glad to have something, anything, to drink and much to his surprise he tasted blood among other ingredients in the potion.

"Where did you…"

The professor arched an eyebrow, interrupting him coldly, "Knocturn Alley. A perfect place to shop for… certain ingredients that have become illegal in the course of recent years. I assume that you would like to know where you are and how have you come to be here?"

He nodded, studying the wizard intently. He appeared to be ill or was he just tired? No, he was much paler that he had remembered him, his skin had that sickly look of ill humans and he seemed to be suppressing coughs now and then. The damp cells of Azkaban must have had an unpleasant influence on his health…

"You wanted to kill me, didn't you? Well, you were stopped by… Lucius," said the professor softly, his eyes acquiring that haunted sad look when he mentioned his cousin, "He nearly burnt you to death. But since the headmaster of Hogwarts in a good man - or stupid and insane by some people's judgement - and has this unexplainable liking for dangerous creatures and half-breeds, he felt he has to save you. This is Grimmauld Place, but as it's under Fidelius charm, you won't be able to tell where it is when you leave here."

He sat down on Arenwald's bed and placed his thin hand on his forehead. The vampire shivered as Snape's scent reached his nostrils and he pushed him roughly away. The wizard stumbled and standing, he cast a furious glare at him. "Don't come so close, you're tempting me," rasped the vampire, watching how Snape took a weary step backwards, "You wouldn't be strong enough to fight me, I might harm you."

"I am afraid that you're too weak to be harmful," the professor waved his worries away, though closer he did not come, "And the potion should calm you."

"Restrain me, you mean."

Snape smirked. "Naturally. We can't have dark creatures threatening the precious golden boy of Dumbledore, can we?"

There was something hidden within the words that Arenwald hadn't noticed before. Although the professor had never been a happy man, this time he could feel more bitterness underlying the words, more disappointment and lack of hope. Why was he so… so sad? He had no other word to describe him than sad.

"You appear to be sad and… I don't know… nervous maybe?"

The professor shot him an angry glare, then snorted. "I'm merely myself, Arenwald."

"No, you are like… waiting for something? Someone? Is you father here? The headmaster?"

"Everyone is here, Arenwald, downstairs, discussing… me."

Again he sat on the bed, though this time he kept a safer distance between himself and the vampire.

"I'm waiting for them to call me downstairs," he said, a shadow of worry crossing his face. "You see, I've betrayed all of them, didn't I? What do you think they'll tell me?"

"But the headmaster seems to be a wise man…"

Snape bit his lip and although he was trying to behave calmly, Arenwald could see that he was nervous and maybe a little afraid too. He forced his body to co-operate as he pulled himself into a sitting position and covered Snape's hand with his. The professor looked at him with surprise, but also anger, frowning.

"How touching," said Snape in his low silken voice, "Do you want to comfort me? Leave that to yourself and please, be so kind and drink whole of that vial of potion."

With that, Snape stood up and swept out of the room, black robes billowing after him. He would have looked as impressive as he had used to, had it not been for the tiny moment when he staggered on his way out.

§§

Author's notes: I'm back. :-) Thank you very much for your reviews, you can find the review responses in my LJ (follow the link in my bio-page, the homepage link). There are not many chapters left of this story, we're nearing the end quickly (possibly two more chapters, I'll see…). Reviews are always welcomed!

Next week I'm graduating and it'll be a busy week, but I hope that after it's all over, I'll be able to update more frequently.