Thanks to Joycelyn Solo for beta reading.
Author's notes: In this chapter, there's a reference to a disease commonly known as XP. The truth is that my knowledge of this illness consists in what I've found on the Internet and in a book of Dean Koontz, so please excuse me if there are loads of mistakes.
Chapter Sixteen: Blood Kin
When Connor first opened his eyes, he couldn't recall where he was. He rubbed his eyes and studied his surroundings. This wasn't his bedroom. For one thing, the walls were painted in a different colour and the Quidditch posters were missing. In their place, there were other kind of posters. Posters that didn't move.
At once, he remembered where he was. I'm in my other bedroom. He shook his head at his dumbness. Well, at least I'm not the only one. Jacob Collins always says that he never remembers, when he wakes up, whether he is at his mother's or his father's house.
Of course, Connor's story was different from Jacob's. In his case, his dad hadn't divorced from his mum but died, and he lived with Severus, who was a very distant relative. Or so everyone thought.
He remembered spending his early childhood with some Muggles that had adopted him after his dad's death, in some place called Pylea, which he barely remembered. Then Daniel had died and Justine got sick, so he went to live with some of his dad's old friends. That hadn't turned out that well: his magical powers had gotten out of control, and finally they'd taken him to Hogwarts, where they hoped he'd be able to tame them down.
They had returned to pick him up, but Connor hadn't wanted to go with them, choosing to stay with Severus instead, who adopted him. Then his mother had showed up.
At first, Connor hadn't fully understood why he hadn't lived with his mother in the first place, like any other child. Neither had he understood why he always saw his mother at night, never during daytime. Soon both questions were answered.
His mum suffered from a very uncommon Muggle disease, called xeroderma pigmentosum (also known as XP). It was a rare genetic disorder that made her dangerously vulnerable to sunlight. That was why her house curtains were always closed and she never went out during daytime.
That was also the reason why no one had given her Connor's custody. How was she supposed to take care of a child when she couldn't even take him to school, or to the hospital in case he got sick?
At least, that was the first explanation Connor got. The second one, given by his mother herself very recently, was that she'd been in such a bad state after his dad's death that she really couldn't have taken care of him.
'I was terribly depressed,' she'd told him one night. 'Which is a nice euphemism for "emotional wreckage."'
Connor hadn't understood all that she'd said, but he got the general idea and asked no further questions. Besides, it wasn't like he didn't like living with Severus. He adored his mum, like any child, but it was so much cooler living in Hogsmeade! And he was really fond of Severus. In spite of what his students said, he'd never been nothing but nice to Connor. Except when he was mad, of course.
He prepared his breakfast by himself (after all, he was nine years old already) and waited for his mum to get up watching TV. She always got up much later than him – but she was awake most of the night. Which was a good thing, because that meant Connor could go to bed much later than usual.
Severus didn't like it much...but this was Darla's house, and there only Darla's rules applied.
That Sunday went on quietly. Darla finally woke up and she and Connor spent the rest of the morning playing games and watching movies; then, in the afternoon, she helped her son do his homework. As she saw her child frowning in concentration, Darla thought that in a couple of years she'd no longer be able to help him with his homework. He'd be studying Charms, Potions, and all sort of things she had no idea about. Well, I can always help him when he studies about vampires, though. For now, however, she was glad just to help her boy to solve an arithmetic problem.
At nightfall Connor picked up his stuff and they left for the Leaky Cauldron. At first, Connor had been surprised that his mother knew how to find the place, when she was a Muggle, then he figured out that Severus must have told her and, besides, Muggleborns' parents also went to Diagon Alley with no problem.
They used the inn's fireplace to travel to Severus' home (it had been a while since Snape had allowed Darla to do so, before that she'd used the Hog's Head's fireplace), where he was waiting for them.
Snape and Darla weren't friends exactly, and they were never going to be, but they got on much better than they'd done when they first met. Now Snape respected Darla and trusted her enough to let Connor stay at her home for weekends and, during school holidays, a couple of weeks. On the other hand, Darla had learnt to respect the taciturn man. He wasn't the most cheerful guy she'd ever met, but he was incredibly good with Connor in spite of his usual harshness. Besides, since she'd got her soul back she hadn't been that cheerful either. There were so many faults to burden her heart... something her and the Potions teacher had in common.
So when he offered her a cup of coffee she wasn't surprised, although she had no choice but to turn the offer down.
'I've got to work tonight, sorry.'
He merely shrugged. After all, he'd just asked out of politeness. 'How is it going?'
'Oh, fine. It's so much better to work as a receptionist than a waitress...' Darla suppressed a shudder when she remembered her first job. It had been a real nightmare, and that coming from someone who'd worked as a whore.
But it has been a very long time since then, thank God. Although I doubt God had anything to do with it.
Darla said goodbye to her son, this time much more at ease than she'd been the first couple of times, when she still didn't trust Snape. Now, though, nothing troubled her mind as she saw Connor clutching Snape's hand, chattering about his weekend, convinced as she was that they finally were a family.
A rather untraditional one but, hey, who cared? It was much more than Darla had had in four centuries.
'Harry, if you don't hurry, you're gonna be late for school!'
Sirius ran into the kitchen, still buttoning his shirt. He wasn't exactly thrilled when he saw his godson dozing off over his cereals. 'Harry, wake up!'
The child winced, and hurried to put in his mouth as much cereal as he could. For a moment Sirius feared he might throw up afterwards, then he remembered that his father had used to eat the same way.
As soon as Harry got the last spoonful of cereal inside his mouth, he jumped from the chair and grabbed his schoolbag. When they reached the door, though, Sirius stopped dead in his tracks.
'Harry', he asked, in a weirdly solemn tone, 'have you brushed your teeth?'
The boy looked somewhat guilty. 'Sirius, we're already late...'
His godfather frowned. 'Harry, go now to brush your teeth, or otherwise when you reach my age...'
'...all my teeth will be gone or black. Got it.'
As Harry ran to the bathroom, Sirius noticed a piece of paper coming out from under the door. Intrigued, he kneeled and took it.
It was an envelope, but it didn't look like a bill, which was the kind of letters Sirius usually got. Instead, it seemed a very fragile envelope, made of...
'Parchment,' he muttered. When he turned the envelope, he saw his own name written in a very familiar handwriting.
Before he could open it, though, Harry came running down the stairs.
'I'm ready!' he exclaimed. Sirius tried to frown and failed. 'About time, kid,' he said instead, as they both headed to the car.
It wasn't until some hours later that Sirius was able to read Andromeda's (because she was the one who'd written) letter.
Dear Sirius,
I hope you receive this letter at last. I've been trying to contact you for a while, and in the end I got so desperate that I practically begged Dumbledore to let me write to you.
I'm sure you remember that three years ago, after your mother's demise, I agreed to take care of the legal matters. However, it was more complicated than I'd first thought.
As your mother didn't leave a will, naturally you should have inherited everything. However, as she'd tried to disinherit you, there were a lot of legal complications. On one hand, it seems that a parent can't leave one of his sons without herency, especially if there aren't any other heirs or a will. On the other hand, they can't ignore your mother's attempts to disinherit you.
This turned into a legal war between Gringotts, which claims you should inherit everything, and Mr. Burkes, your mother's lawyer (Sirius remembered him all too well), who doesn't want to hearanything about it. Either way, both parties believe you should have the decency to show up and say something about it.
I know you don't want to hear about this, and that you couldn't care less about what happens to Grimauld Place and the Black Trust, but please, please lend me a hand. Everyone's starting to think that I want to get the whole inheritence!
One of Gringotts' goblins (I think his name is Griphook or something) and Mr. Burkes want to meet you next Thursday at the Leaky Cauldron, at half past nine. Please go or they'll try to sue me.
Both Nynphadora and Ted are fine. He says 'hi.' I hope you and Harry are all right too.
Love from,
Andromeda
PS: Nynphadora's won another Quidditch match. I think you'll be glad to hear that Gryffindor is very likely to win the Cup this year. And the Puddlemere United is doing well too.
Sirius groaned. The last thing he wanted to do was to reunite with the nefarious Mr. Burkes (he'd known him since he'd been a child – and he knew enough about the lawyer not to trust him) to talk about Grimmauld Place. Hell, he didn't want to see the place ever again, not to say own it. Or – Sirius had to repress a shiver – live in it. As far as he was concerned, Grimmauld Place could be given to the merpeople and he wouldn't care.
Rereading his cousin's letter, though, he realised he'd have no other choice but to attend to the meeting. Andromeda had already had enough trouble, she didn't deserve to have legal problems because of his stubborness.
'Well, I guess it's true what they say: there's no place like home.'
And in his case, there certainly wasn't. Which wasn't exactly a cheerful thought.
It was right after lunchtime, and Severus was doing the washing up. Well, to be more precise, he was bewitching the dishes to wash themselves up. In the meantime, Connor was in the living room, reluctantly taking his school stuff out of his bag in order to start doing his homework. Why couldn't Mr. Banerji let one single day pass without giving them homework? It was so unfair.
Knock, knock.
Connor looked up as the knocking repeated once more. 'I'll get it!' he said, glad to have an excuse to put off his homework.
'Who is it?' he asked before opening the door. Severus was very insistent on stuff like that.
'Not a salesman, so you can open the door already.'
Connor frowned. Their visitor was anything but polite. From his tone, he deduced it was someone used to giving orders...orders that were quickly followed. His voice sounded somewhat familiar to Connor, though. In the end, curiosity took the better of him and he opened the door.
Standing in front of him there was a tall, hook-nosed man. His grey hair was short and well-kept and his robes, although they were old-fashioned, were in perfect state. There was something about him that looked terribly familiar to Connor, but he couldn't place what it was.
When his penetrating brown eyes fixed on Connor, the man raised an eyebrow.
'I thought this was the house of Professor Severus Snape.'
Connor blinked at the coldness of his tone, as if the last thing the man wanted in this world was to talk to him. The boy squared his shoulders and raised his chin.
'It is, sir. May I help you?' he said, his tone coolly polite. The man eyed Connor, this time more attentively.
'Are you one of his students? You look awfully young.'
Connor tried his best to hide his irritation. 'No, sir, I'm not.'
The man frowned.
'Then who are you?'
This time, Connor didn't bother to be polite.
'I think I'm the one supposed to ask that, don't you?' he snapped, annoyed. The man scowled at him in a way many children would have found scary. Connor merely ignored it.
'May I help you, sir?' he repeated dryly.
The man shrugged.
'Yes. Would you tell Professor Snape to come to receive me?'
It wasn't necessary. Snape, wondering why the hell Connor was taking so long to answer that damned door, had came to investigate.
'Connor, what's...?'
He broke off in mid-sentence as his gaze met the stranger's. His eyes widened and, for a second, his jaw fell open, then he hurried to close it. He swallowed hard and said, with a stiffness Connor had never seen:
'Nice to see you again, sir. What brings you here...
...father?'
At half past nine, Sirius walked into the Leaky Cauldron, with the expression of a doomed man. Which was kind of the way he felt right now.
It didn't take him long to locate the right table: after all, it wasn't everyday that you saw one of Gringotts' goblins at the Leaky Cauldron during working hours. They weren't exactly sociable.
As Sirius slid into the opposite chair, the goblin greeted him as politely as a goblin could (that means not very harshly) and he answered with a slight bowing of his head. Before Sirius was able to order a drink, Griphook got immersed in a way too detailed explanation of the Black Trust current state and all the negotiations held with Mr. Burkes during those three years. From the goblin's words, Sirius deduced that Gringotts believed the lawyer wanted all the heritage for himself. Which wouldn't have surprised him at all, given what he knew about the man: he'd been his father's right hand for twenty years...and that said it all.
After ten minutes, however, Sirius began to wish that Burkes would arrive, only because that'd mean Griphook would stop with his explanations. He was already getting a headache, and they weren't even started.
Mr. Burkes arrived fashionably late for fifteen minutes, excusing himself saying that he was so busy with all his other businesses. Sirius suppressed a snort. Burkes was just like he remembered him: a stuck-up old man with an arrogant voice and even more arrogant manners.
As soon as Sirius and Mr. Burkes ordered their drinks, the latter proceeded to give Sirius the same explanation Griphook had, from a completely different point of view, of course. Sirius was about to throw up.
'Wait a moment,' he interrupted, and Burkes glared at him in the same way he used to when he was a child. 'First of all, I want to make one thing clear: I don't care about the Black Trust or Grimmauld Place. As far as I'm concerned, either of you can keep it.'
He'd expected Burkes's face to lit up with his words in greedy satisfaction. But what he didn't expect was the lawyer to exchange a somber glance with the goblin and shook his head.
'I'm sorry, Mr. Black, but that's not possible. By law you're the only heir: in other words, you'll receive your heritage whether you like it or not,' Burkes said. Sirius stared at him in disbelief.
'That doesn't make any sense. I don't want it. Why should I be forced to receive it?'
Once again, Burkes and Griphook exchanged dark looks.
'Because,' the goblin said, with the same patient tone one would use for a toddler, 'first of all, there are no other possible heirs and no will. By tradition, all heritage has always gone to male heirs' hands, so your female cousins won't get anything.' Sirius shrugged. Andromeda wouldn't accept the money, Narcissa had enough of it and Bellatrix... well, what would she want the money for, being locked up in Azkaban as she was? 'And you're the only male heir left. Besides,' he added, in a matter-of-fact tone, 'if Gringotts tries to keep the heritage, Mr. Burkes here,' he threw the lawyer a murderous glare ,'will surely sue us.' Burkes smirked and gave a tiny nod. 'And if Mr. Burkes tries to keep the heritage for himself, the bank will sue him. I'm afraid it'll be too expensive for both parties to face a trial like that, which could take years. So you're the only one who can receive it without further legal problems, and the easiest solution to our problems.'
Sirius reflected on what the goblin had said. It didn't seem like he had much of a choice in the matter. I wonder why they even bothered to call me, having arranged it all as they have.
'What do you need me to do now?' he finally asked, resigned. Both of their faces gleamed.
'See, Mr. Black, you just have to sign a few forms...'
Sirius spent the next hour reading and rereading carefully each form Griphook and Burkes gave him, paying special attention the the tiniest letters. After years of seeing how his father made business, Sirius had turned rather paranoid with signing forms and contracts.
When he finished, Sirius covered a yawn with his hand and said:
'Well, gentlemen, it was really nice making business with you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have other things to do...'
'Oh, no, no Mr. Black,' Burkes said, in that odious voice of his 'There's something else you've got to do before leaving us.'
Sirius raised an eyebrow. When he realised the lawyer wasn't going to continue, he barked a 'what.' Burkes smirked.
'First you have to check out your new property, meaning Grimmauld Place.'
Sirius paled from rage. He was so not going back to that place.
'I'm afraid I won't, Burkes. See, I'm not planning to keep the house for long. I'm going to sell it as soon as I can.'
Burkes's smirk became more pronounced, and Sirius decided he didn't like that triumphant gleam in his eyes at all.
'Oh, I'm afraid you won't be able to do so, Mr. Black. See, your mother was very insistent on this point: You cannot sell the house...'
'So, now you spend your free time adopting abandoned children?'
Severus Snape took a deep breath and turned to look at the man sitting in the armchair in front of him. 'No, father. I've already explained you the reasons I'm taking care of Connor'.
Or at least I gave you the fake reasons I've given everybody else, he thought. His father, though, still looked unconvinced. Of course, there was no surprise there. There wasn't such a word like "trust" in Saturninus Snape's basic vocabulary.
'I didn't know you were fond of children,' Neither were you, and you had me 'And a child coming from a branch of the family we'd never heard of... and what a branch!' he exclaimed, pursing his lips. 'Squibs and Muggles, nevertheless.' He raised an eyebrow and added, in a quieter tone, 'I thought you've been raised differently.'
Indeed. I was raised to hate Muggleborns and be derisive with anyone who wasn't a pureblood. Severus shifted uncomfortably when he remembered certain things he'd done or said in the past about the matter, many of them not so long ago.
The truth was that he was more his father's son than he would have liked to admit.
'I had no choice but to take him in. I couldn't leave him with those Muggles,' Severus said, in the exact tone he knew his father expected.
'You could have told me, though,' His father continued. 'I mean, it's been almost four years, and this is the first time I hear about the subject.'
What would have you done if you'd known, father? Come at once to stop me? Besides, when was the last time you've sent me an owl and vice-versa?
'I was afraid the owl might not reach you, as you live so isolated now.'
They both knew it was a blatant lie, but the game they were now playing was one he knew too well. It was the game of lies and insincerities, of mid-thruths and thoughts never said outloud. It was the game of pretending they'd played his whole life, a game in which the most important things were the ones said in silence.
Mr. Snape's gaze got lost for a moment, in the direction of the yard beyond the kitchen where Connor was now playing.
'He's not very respectful, is he?' he said... but his son could easily guess the hidden meaning in his words.
'You could have taught him some manners, couldn't you?'
'What, like the ones you've taught me?'
Severus shrugged.
'He's usually a very polite child. I've never received any complaints about his behaviour.'
His father didn't reply, except by frowning slightly. He wasn't very used to being contradicted, especially not by his son.
A silence followed, a silence heavy with unspoken words and dark memories. Finally, it was Mr. Snape who broke it.
'So, you're still teaching at Hogwarts?'
Severus knew his father well enough to know that what he'd really wanted to say was: 'Are you still wasting your time teaching dim eleven-year-olds to make a potion to cure boils? That's your way of upholding the family honor?'
And Severus knew himself well enough to know what he'd like to reply: 'Let's not fool ourselves, father. The family honor was already shattered by the time I was born. All we ever got was a good name and a pile of debts. No Snape has accomplished something relevant in the last three generations... not even you.'
This time, all his father got for an answer was a nod.
'So, what are you doing back in England? I thought you were doing quite well in Russia. The climate suited you.'
Mr. Snape raised an eyebrow, one of his favourite facial expressions, along with sneering.
'What? Can't I just come to visit my only son now?'
Son? Now you call me your 'son'? I don't recall you calling me that all the time you beat me up, all the times you called me a failure. I don't recall you calling me that when you forbade me to set foot in our house ever again, or at Mother's burial. Hell, I don't even recall you looking at me at all that day, except for the time you glared at me as if it were all my fault. Now I'm your son again?
I don't think so, father.
Severus forced an smile.
'Of course you can, father. What makes you think otherwise?'
Sirius stepped into the darkened hall with a sense of forebodding. Griphook and Mr. Burkes followed suit, and Sirius heard the latter whispering under his breath. At once, all the old-fashioned gas lamps were lit, casting a faint light along the hall. Sirius took a sharp intake of air and dared to take a couple of steps forward, the sound of which was muffled by the blackened carpet, and looked around.
At first, he couldn't see any differences from the place he remembered. It was still as creepy and unwelcoming as it had been back when he'd been a child. Actually, it looked even creepier and unwelcoming than it had done back then, although Sirius couldn't figure out why. Maybe it was because since the summer after his sixteenth birthday (when he'd grabbed his trunk and all his possesions and fled through the front door, swearing to never come back) he'd been living in more homey places, with the obvious exception of Azkaban – although now he came to think of it, the prison hadn't been that bad in comparison.
Maybe it was because of the silence. Before one could always hear the countless house-elves going from one place to another doing their chores, his mother's shouted orders, his father's heavy steps on the stairway or his brother's piano. Or, most probably, one could hear Sirius Black creating some sort of mayhem. Now, however, there wasn't another sound apart of the three of them breathing.
Or maybe it was because of the abandoned appearence of the place. Most of the furniture and portraits had been protected with grey sheets, while several layers of dust covered the floor and walls.
'Has anyone been taking care of this place?'
Both Griphook and Burkes winced.
'Don't speak so loudly, Mr. Black!' the goblin hissed. Sirius stared at them, bewildered. Burkes hastened to whisper:
'Your mother's portrait is very sensitive to loud sounds. If it wakes up...'
Sirius needed to hear no more. He remembered too well his mother's screaming to wish to provoke it. Surely the portrait couldn't be as bad as the real version...nothing could be as bad as the real version, but Sirius preferred not to risk it.
Griphook and Burkes made him to check every single bedroom, and there were far too many. Sirius began to fear he'd spend hours in there.
He got to see, much to his displeasure, his old bedroom, which had been turned into some kind of storage room. No doubt his parents hadn't wanted to remember him. His brother's room, on the other hand, was intact. No sheets guarded the furniture, not a single magazine had been moved from its place. Time seemed to have frozen in that room – it was evident his mother had wanted to keep everything exactly like Regulus had left it the day he'd been killed by a fellow Death Eater. Sirius shivered. This was beyond creepy. He hurried to leave the room and shut the door behind him. It was freaking him out.
And then, of course, he had to enter into the drawing room, where he had to face the giant family tree of the Blacks. It didn't take him long to realise his name had been erased from the tapestry. He grimaced. He had expected no less. With another quick glance, he saw that Andromeda had gotten blasted too – whereas neither her husband nor her daughter had ever been written. No surprises there.
His other cousins were still there, of course. They had married purebloods, so they deserved to be counted as family. Nobody cared if Bellatrix had been thrown in Azkaban or if Narcissa had married a Death Eater – hey, look there, Narcissa had a child! Sirius got closer to read the name (Draco? Arghh) and the date of birth. He raised his eyebrows: he had to be about Harry's age. Uh-oh. They'd probably go to Hogwarts together. Poor Harry. Unless Draco turned out to be a Squib, but in that case Sirius was afraid there'd be a death date next to the name. He doubted Lucius Malfoy would want a Squib heir...
He was pulled out of his reverie by Griphook.
'Mr. Black, have you found everything in good condition?'
Sirius shrugged.
'Sure. Can I sell it?'
Burkes shook his head, the shadow of a grin on his face. 'No, sir. Your mother was very precise on that detail: the mansion couldn't be sold until ten years after her death.'
Sirius glared at the lawyer. It looked like, as he couldn't have it, Burkes was determined to force Sirius to get stuck with the damned place.
'What about renting?' Sirius looked at his surroundings. 'I guess not.'
'No one but a Black can live in this house, sir. Your father's spells took care of that.'
Sirius looked at the lawyer again. Ah-ha! So that was it. That was the reason Burkes couldn't get his hands on Grimmauld Place. And probably his father had taken similar measures with the Black Trust: No one who wasn't a part of the family would be able to put his hands on it. Seems like your old client screwed you, Burkes.
However, Burkes kept on grinning, which was getting on Sirius nerves. And he still could see no reason for Burkes to grin like that. Until Griphook spoke again...
'Mr. Black, there's something else to the house. See, your mother clearly asked that one of the house-elves had to be kept with the house...'
'Which one?' Sirius demanded, but he did not need to hear the answer. His mother had only had one favourite house-elf.
When he heard the name, though, he cursed anyway... and this time Burkes did not try to conceal his amusement.
Connor Angel was walking on his tiptoes all the way downstairs, careful not to make a sound. He was usually very silent – like a cat, his mother used to say – but not silent enough. These days, even making the faintest sound could get him in trouble.
Things had changed for the worst at the Snape's House. The atmosphere in the house reminded Connor of a Muggle bomb waiting to explode. The worst thing was he hadn't a clue of what could activate it. So he was very, very careful. He wouldn't be the one who blew up things.
Connor suppressed a sigh. Only a week. Only a week, and the bloke had turned their lives into a living nightmare. Why couldn't he leave? Didn't he notice he was unwelcomed? Didn't he notice he was just bothering them?
The bloke in question was none other than Severus' dad, whom Connor was forced to call, very stiffly, Mr. Snape. Thank God he doesn't want me to call him Grampa. He shuddered at the thought. Mr. Snape as his Grandad! It would have been a nightmare.
To an outsider, it would look like Connor was overreacting. After all, Mr. Snape hadn't done anything to Connor. He wasn't deliberately cruel to the child, either – like Severus would have let him. He didn't try to spank him, and he didn't insult him... not directly, at least. But apart from that, he did everything he could to annoy Connor to no end.
Everything Connor did, for as little or insignificant it was, Mr. Snape felt compelled to correct it. If Connor did the washing-up, surely the plates wouldn't be spotless until he washed them himself. If Connor was walking down the stairs, surely he was making too much noise. If Connor was doing his homework, surely Mr. Snape would find something to complain about: his handwriting wasn't neat enough, his answers were too short or too long, too concise or too vague. The child couldn't even breath correctly in the old man's eyes.
And the worst part of it was the way he had to say things. If he'd limited himself to tell Connor what he was doing wrong, that'd have been it. But no: he always talked to Severus, as though Connor was too stupid to comprehend his words. And the tone he used! Always cold, always sarcastic.
'Severus, I think you should tell the boy not to talk with his mouth full. Some people could find it disgusting, see. People with education.' 'I don't know if the boy's lived with cannibals before coming here, but he certainly could learn some manners. Like not snapping at other people. Or respecting his elders.' 'I'll be astounded if his teacher is able to correct the boy's homework. His handwriting looks like a six-year-old child's'.
Connor had heard more than once that Severus was cold to his students, even harsh sometimes. But he doubted he could be as thoroughly annoying as his father was. Not a single detail escaped from his gaze, and it seemed like he had to make a snide comment about everything. It was worse, though, when he didn't say anything at all. More than once, Connor had caught the old man staring at him, with a look of revulsion and rejection that froze the blood in his veins. In those times, Connor felt there was something utterly disgusting about him, something the old man couldn't bear to see. It had occured to him more than once that Severus' father didn't seem to consider him as a human being.
And Severus wasn't acting very normally either. At first, he'd intervened whenever Mr. Snape started to treat Connor badly, but after a while he began to ignore his father's snide remarks and left Connor on his own. But that wasn't all. With every passing day, Severus became more and more absent. He barely talked to Connor anymore, and when he did, he usually snapped at him. It seemed like Connor's presence had begun to annoy him as well.
And whenever he was with his father, Severus became uncharacteristically subdued. Which was extremely strange, as people usually subdued to Severus' will, not the other way around. Connor had never seen him like this, not even around Albus Dumbledore. Hovewer, when he was in his father's company he fell silent... but Connor had seen his hands clenched in fists so tightly that the knuckles turned white, and he had seen the flash of anger that ignited his eyes when Mr.Snape didn't look... It reminded Connor of a caged animal waiting for the right moment to attack...which wasn't exactly a comforting thought.
Fortunately, that night his mother would pick him up. But lately she'd been acting oddly as well. Last time Connor had been at her place, she'd asked him more than once whether he'd mind meeting one of her friends. Every time Connor had merely shrugged and replied it was all right for him. However, that hadn' prevented his mother from sending him a letter in which she asked the same question.
What was the big deal, anyway? It wasn't like he hadn't met friends of hers before. There was Faith, the brunette who spoke funny (Connor had never heard so much cursing in his whole life – that is, until his mother had a little conversation with the girl about the appropriate language to use in front of a child) and the old librarian – well, older than Severus anyway – Giles. And Spike, who in Connor's humble opinion was one of the coolest people in the world – something that, now he came to think of it, didn't amuse Severus that much. So what was the special thing about this new friend? Why was his mother acting so strangely?
Connor shook his head. Adults were so weird.
He walked towards the kitchen, and glimpsed Severus, who was half-buried by a pile of books and rolls of parchment (the study had been turned into a guest room these days). He hesitated at the doorstep. Severus was so strange these days. Usually, Connor would have never feared him, but now...now he felt a stranger in his own home.
Before he could decide to turn around and leave, though, Severus looked up and caught him staring. He looked so tired. There were shadows under his eyes, and he looked years older.
Unexpectedly, though, a smile curved his lips. It wasn't a sarcastic smirk, but the warm smile he reserved only for Connor, which lightened his features.
'What are you doing, standing at the doorframe like that? Come in.'
Almost shyly, Connor stepped inside and sat in front of Severus, who put his books aside. It had been a while since Severus had focused his attention in Connor only, and the boy felt awkward.
However, all awkwardness disappeared as Severus began asking him questions about school, and soon it was like nothing bad had happened between them. Like Mr. Snape had never came to somber their lives.
After Severus asked him to bring the chess set, and Connor had lost two times in a row (one of these days...one of these days he would be good enough to beat Severus right and proper), he dared to ask where Mr. Snape was. Severus stiffened at once, and the child regretted mentioning it. However, Snape managed to keep his tone more or less cheerful.
'He went to visit some old friends, he said.'
In spite of his voice, Connor noticed there was something about it that worried Severus, so he decided not to push the subject. As long as the ogre wasn't around...
Snape hadn't realised how much he'd missed the little moments he shared with Connor. Lately he'd been so worried about his father that he'd neglected the child. Seems like I take after my father after all, he thought bitterly.
He tried to wipe those thoughts of his mind as he watched Connor struggling with a difficult chess move. However, his mind didn't want to cooperate. Every now and then, his thoughts returned to his progenitor.
What the hell was he doing here? Right from the start Snape had known he hadn't came all the way back to England out of fatherly concern, but that now he'd mentioned the visits to his old friends Snape's suspicions became more solid. Friends? Ha. His father had never had one single friend. He had had associates, though. Snape frowned when he remembered which kind of people his father's partners had been. The nicest one of them now owned a shop which sold a necklace that had taken the lives of nineteen Muggles or so it was said.
Was his father trying to restart his illegal business? If it was so, what was Snape supposed to do? Stop him? Ignore it? The whole thing gave him a headache.
And that wasn't all. With every passing day, Snape had been growing more concerned at the unusual attention his father was paying to Connor. He didn't worry about his snide remarks – after all, Connor was a tough child. But his father seemed to be very curious about the child's past and lineage, and he kept asking questions about him. He had answered as evasively as he could, and he had the distinct impression his father didn't believe him a word. Snape was afraid he might not be able to keep the charade much longer...and he feared the moment his father found out about Connor's true lineage.
He was so absorbed in his thoughts that he didn't hear the swirling sounds that indicated the Floo Network was being used. Connor looked up, a shadow sombering his face. Snape was filled with dread. Well, it was too good to last. Welcome home, Dad.
When he dared to come out of the kitchen, though, he discovered it wasn't his father who'd used the fireplace, but Darla. Delighted, Connor rushed past him and ran into his mother's arms.
Relieved, Snape greeted Darla politely. When Connor ran to his room to get his things, they made small talk. Things had changed a lot in these last couple of years, but it still made Snape feel a little umcomfortable whenever he was around Darla. He guessed that a lifetime prejudice – which wasn't so much of a prejudice as a survival instinct – wasn't that easy to get over.
When Darla was commenting something about introducing Connor to a friend of hers, the fireplace burst into life again and a dark figure came out from it. Snape groaned. It was definitely too good to last long.
His father brushed off the ashes from his robes, until he noticed Darla's presence. He stared at her, raising an eyebrow. This wasn't going to be nice...
At first, she'd looked a little startled, but soon composed. Smiling, she took a step forward.
'You must be Severus' father,' she said, extending a hand. 'You sort of look alike'.
Snape glared at her, infuriated by her last comment. His father, on the other hand, looked at her blankly, without shaking her hand.
'And who are you, madam?'
Darla didn't look a little bit taken aback by his coldness. Hell, she was probably used to much worse things than even his father could offer.
'My name's Darla Jones. I'm Connor's mother.'
He eyed her as he took off his cloak and folded it. 'I see the resemblance. Are you American?'
Her eyebrows rose a little, an amused glint in her clear eyes. 'Well, yes. Is that evident?'
His father narrowed his eyes, and as he handed the cloak to Snape – as if he were the butler or something – his lips formed a tight line. Oh, no...
'And you're also Muggle.'
Darla blinked, looking surprised for the first time. It took her a moment to realise what he was talking about. 'Oh, yes, I am.' She darted a questioning look at Snape. Too late he realised he'd never explained to her some wizards' – including his, all right – prejudice against non-magical humans.
'It's strange, because Muggles aren't supposed to be in Hogsmeade. We take pride in saying this is the only completely Muggle-free village in Great Britain.'
Her eyes widened a little, and this was the only external sign of her anger. 'I guess I'm the exception, then. I have to see my child somehow.'
He gave her a wry smile. 'Sure you do, madam. But I wonder – why doesn't the child in question live with his mother?'
Snape cast an alarmed look at Darla, but she looked unconcerned. 'Oh, hasn't Severus told you about my illness?'
Mr. Snape stared at her blankly. 'Illness? You look healthy enough to me.'
She smiled. 'Thanks for the complimment, but that's far from the truth. I'm not so ill not to see my son once in a while, but my sickness certainly doesn't make me suitable for taking care of him. Besides,' she added, with the slightest hint of sarcasm in her voice, 'I consider it's better for Connor to live with his own kind, don't you think?'
His father's face remained expressionless. 'If you say so'. He headed to the nearest armchair, sat down and, in an extraordinary sign of politeness, he gestured Darla to sit down as well.
'So', he began, once Darla was sitting right in front of him, 'how did you come to find out we were related?'
Snape opened his mouth to say something – anything – but Darla was faster. 'Oh, no, Mr. Snape. We aren't related,' she said casually. 'It was my deceased husband's family tree the one that connects with yours.'
Snape stared at Darla. Was it his imagination, or had she and Connor's father just got married?
Before his father could ask more questions, Connor came jumping down the stairs. A frown formed on the old man's face at once, but Snape ignored it. Instead, he hurried to say goodbye to Connor, and he said to Darla:
'You'd better hurry, if you want to get to that Muggle show in time.'
Darla nodded at once, rising from her seat. 'You're right, Severus.' One sharp glance at Connor silenced him. She turned to face Mr. Snape. 'I've been delighted to meet you, sir. I hope we can continue our chat one of these days'.
His lips curved in something that was too tight to be a smile. 'Oh, I hope the same.'
As Connor and Darla disappeared in the flames, Snape decided it was a good night to avoid his father and decided to have dinner on his own at the Three Broomsticks.
When Sirius returned home, he felt like he'd been away for a year. However, it was just past noon and Harry was still at school. And yet, a lifetime had passed for him.
Going back to Grimauld Place hadn't been a good thing for his karma. He didn't know what he'd expected, but it certainly hadn't worked as a catharsis. Part of him had expected the place to remain intact, unaltered by the implacable time, exactly as he remembered it. The other part had hoped the place had fallen into pieces like Usher House.
But what he'd found was neither. The place wasn't intact, nor was it destroyed. It was somewhere in between, like in some kind of limbo. Like a haunted place.
Sirius shook his head. That house had already affected his mind, in a way Azkaban had never been able to.
Fortunately, he wouldn't have to see it in the near future. Kreacher would remain in the house, taking care of it (or not, but who cared?), and Sirius would send him money monthly, and perhaps he could hire someone to check on him, but that was all he was going to give the damned elf. Sirius remembered him well: always trotting behind his mother, mesmerized with all her gestures and words... Sirius wanted to throw up.
But he didn't have to see Grimauld Place anymore, not even Burkes could force him to do so. Merlin, how much he hated the place. Even as a child, he'd hated the rules, the solemnity, even the furniture.
As he grew older, his hatred increased. When he went to Hogwarts and got selected for Gryffindor, things went to hell. He'd finally showed everyone what a failure he was, or at least that was his mother never stopped saying. And he'd begun to see how different his classmates' lives were, and started to wish his was more like theirs... Also, he'd begun to see how mistaken his parents were on so many accounts...
He'd tried to explain it to his little brother, but he'd refused to listen. He'd always been a mama's boy. It had hurt Sirius at first, but soon his sadness turned into resentment.
It didn't take him long to realise he didn't belong there, especially as his mother constantly reminded him so. She always talked about upholding the family honor – but Sirius just hated them all. His father, always so serious and cold; his exigent mother; the weak Regulus, the unbereable aunts and uncles, the bitch of Bellatrix and Narcissa the Ice Queen...
His mother had always said he would end up badly. She said that he wasn't either trustworthy or reasonable. She said he wouldn't be able to survive in this world.
Well, guess what, Mother. It turns out you're dead, and so are your husband and your dear son, who was murderered by your kind. Your adored Bellatrix is in Azkaban, and Narcissa made a good marriage, sure. Married a Death Eater, the same people that murdered your favourite son, but who cares? He's rich and a pureblood, isn't he?
Can you see the irony, Mother? All you were so proud of has faded away. Your beloved bloodline has come to a dead end. Looks like I'm the last Black standing.
Sirius let out a bitter chuckle. That was true irony. He, as the last member of the Black family... the only one left to "uphold the family honor"...
He shook his head and went to the kitchen to fix himself something to eat. He was starving.
As he did so, he took a glance at his surroundings. It was a small house, much smaller than the last one, and it was kind of cheap. However, as he saw Harry's drawings hanging from the walls, the photographs with both of them, and the indefinable, untraceable air of cozyness, he realised it was a palace. And soon, it would be filled with Harry's laughter, and they'd talk about what he'd done at school, and they'd watch cartoons or play Monopoly...
I am sorry to disappoint you yet again, Mother. But I can't be the one to upheld the family honor. I won't perpetuate the Black bloodline. I have found my true family now.
He decided to make a chocolate cake afterwards. Harry would like that.
Thanks to Luna Moonlight Fawn and Jesse for her reviews. I'm sorry to say that next chapter will take longer to update, because I'm going on a ten-days trip tomorrow, so I probably won't get anywhere near a PC. I hope you've liked this one!