Two hours later, Snape was finished. The bathroom was littered with empty bottles and he felt slightly drained from all the magical effort which had been required to create the effect, but as he gazed into the mirror, a satisfied smirk slunk across his face. It had all been worth it.
He flicked his head to the side like the skinny witches who advertised shampoo in the Prophet and a cloud of soft, shiny black silk swung after him. He ran both hands through the luxuriant tresses, longer than they had ever been, letting them swish elegantly back into place. He felt his spirits lift. He was still overweight, worn-looking and spotty of course, but no one he had ever known had been able to boast such beautiful hair. Not even Malfoy.
Though to the casual observer, Lucius' golden mane would have done justice to an angel, Snape knew from personal experience that its texture was actually rather coarse to the touch as a result of all the potions required to maintain the heavenly hue. Years ago, Severus had applied Peroxidium Worthitum to Malfoy's mousy-brown roots twice a week.
Lucius would have loved this new, longer length, Severus thought, but shook himself before he could get lost in memories of the only man he had truly cared about. Lucius was dead. Only the baby mattered now.
On cue, Saskia awoke and began babbling to herself, so he strode over to the nursery to talk to her.
"Look, treasure! Papa is not ugly all of the time," he beamed down into the crib. He dangled a glossy lock of hair over her. She frowned and tried to coordinate her little hands enough to catch it, kicking her legs and dribbling in concentration. "Merlin, you do look like your Daddy when you do that," he told her. "Except for the moustache. I wonder if he will come back. Do you suppose I have I ruined your future with my duplicity?"
"Mmnnni," said Saskia, noncommittally.
He lifted her up and leaned her against his shoulder, where she immediately fitted her head under his chin and began eating his hair.
"No. I have told you before, treasure, you are far too young to be on solids," he reminded her, glad to have added a neutralising solution to his third batch of conditioner so she would not ingest anything unpleasant.
Downstairs in the sitting-room, he lay back on the sofa in the position which had served him well during the later, 'whale' stages of pregnancy, with his head resting on one upholstered arm and his feet on the other. He was confiding his fears to his daughter, holding her up above him with her brown eyes and his black ones fixed on each other in mutual fascination, when Dumbledore arrived. The touching sight of father-child adoration stole the old man's breath away for a second.
"Good afternoon, Albus," said Snape as he stood staring.
"Severus, Alexandra," he caught himself and smiled fondly at them. Saskia ignored him in favour of inspecting her right fist. "I hope I am not disturbing you?"
"No," Snape replied, lowering the baby onto his stomach. "I only left Cosy Toes two hours ago, has something happened?"
"Nothing to cause concern," Dumbledore assured him. "I have merely spent time reflecting upon some issues which have troubled me for a while. Happily, I reached a conclusion."
Alarmed by the formal tone which Albus had adopted, Snape began to sit up, but was waved down again.
"Please, Severus, stay as you are."
"Then will you sit?" he indicated the armchair opposite. Dumbledore shook his head.
"Thank you, I prefer to stand for the moment." He cleared his throat and folded his arms behind his back. "Being the intelligent young man that you are, my dear, I am certain you will form opinions as I proceed with my narrative. However, I must ask you to hear me out without interrupting, and then we can debate your questions when I have finished speaking. May I impose upon you thus?"
Really startled now, Snape nodded in agreement, letting a few strands of silken hair tumble into his eyes. Dumbledore gasped.
"My boy!" he exclaimed, jolted from his stiff manner. "Your…your hair! I have never…how did you…what happened?" He raised his hand and moved forward as if to touch it. Severus instantly fired off a spell to pin it back out the way.
"I have only done this a handful of times as it requires a lot of work," he hoped that the warm feeling in his cheeks and neck did not mean he was blushing. "I only just noticed how my looks had deteriorated since the birth. I felt it necessary to do something."
"To cheer yourself up," Dumbledore added, smiling. He retracted his hand and slipped it behind his back again. "Well! It's charming, quite charming! Would it offend you if I suggested that you worked on it more often?"
"Yes," said Snape, defensively.
"I thought it might," he sighed sagely. "Anyway. As I said, I have been doing a lot of thinking lately.
"I am an old man, and I flatter myself that I have lived a full and interesting life. I have travelled the worlds, both magical and muggle, read as many books as I could, learned a great deal about life and an even greater deal about magic. I have worked towards defeating great evil on the battlefield and the even greater evils which dwell in the minds of men. Please excuse the arrogant overtones of my little introduction, but I am told that on the whole, my long life has brought some success and – dare I say it? – a degree of improvement to the lives of witches and wizards everywhere.
"During all these years of wonderful experiences, I have spared little thought to personal companionship. With Fawkes at my side, surrounded by friends and books, I fancied I was too busy to devote myself to another human being; that I was not the kind of man who relied on others for comfort. Alas, when I retired from Hogwarts at the end of an exhausting war, I discovered the days to be suddenly rather long and the nights to be cooler than I remembered them, no matter how thick my bedsocks. I attempted to fill the time with my lovely shop, writing letters to the newspaper and keeping up with Fawkes' increasingly hair-raising escapades. I soon discovered these distractions were not enough, so I began to dream of having a companion. Someone to whom I could chat while I knitted socks, who would reply in proper speech and not set things on fire when they grew bored." He paused to heave a great sigh. "In short, my boy, I found myself longing for a partner."
Molly had told Snape about the recent scandal involving Aberforth and Madam Puddifoot, so he braced himself for an outpouring of grief. Saskia had yawned extensively and fallen asleep near the beginning of the monologue and her warm, comforting presence was the only thing preventing the potions master from bolting at the sign imminent emoting. Dumbledore cracked his knuckles pensively and resumed.
"Aurora Puddifoot is a wonderful woman. I first noticed her extraordinary capacity for putting others in their place when she was still a student, the most memorable occasion being an altercation between herself and dear Minerva on the Quidditch field during a hard-fought Gryffindor-Hufflepuff game in 1944. Such language from the two of them! If my memory served me correctly, they were both hospitalised for several weeks once the staff managed to separate them. I solemnly believe fifteen year-old girls to be the most fearsome creatures on the planet."
Snape, mindful of the time that 'Rosy' Rosier had insinuated that Bellatrix's bottom looked larger than the average in her Yule ball gown, agreed without question. Poor old Rosy. Forgetting the 'no interruptions' rule, he had to ask;
"What position did Minerva play? I don't believe I ever ascertained."
A small shudder ran across Albus' shoulders.
"Beater," he whispered. They both nodded grimly.
"My natural bent towards confectionary led me to spend many pleasant moments in Madam Puddifoot's teashop after I retired, and I would find myself greatly diverted by the charms of the proprietress, though she seemed less taken with me. I confess that I developed something of an infatuation with her, particularly the way her eyes would flash as she brandished baking implements whenever Fawkes got loose in her kitchen." His old eyes misted over at the thought of it, or possibly the thought of having been denied it.
"As it turned out, I was not the object of her affection. Once I had recovered from the shock of losing her, or rather, losing the idea of her, I came to realise that we were not very well suited as companions. Admiring a pair of fine eyes across a tea-table is quite different from offering to share the remainder of one's existence with someone. The fact that she felt close enough affinity with my unfortunate brother to willingly enter into matrimony with the cur settled the question absolutely."
"Evidently this happened for the best," interjected Snape philosophically, wondering, not for the first time, what bizarre strain of sexual chemistry attracted perfectly sensible females to irresponsible, louche or downright dangerous wizards.
"Quite so, my boy, quite so," he cleared his throat as punctuation, and began a new thread. "Earlier, I mentioned that, on the whole, I am satisfied with the way in which my life has played out. This does not mean, however, that I hold no regrets concerning my conduct on certain occasions. There is no need to examine my numerous mistakes in detail now, but I would have you know that one of my deepest regrets is how spectacularly I failed you, dearest Severus."
Snape turned away in embarrassment and frustration. His anger at the old man had contributed to the most shameful chapter in his history; his current feelings on the subject were not something he enjoyed discussing. The whole issue of Dumbledore's evilness vs. his benevolence had made his head spin since the day he had crawled back to Hogwarts, hopelessly lost and half-dead, not knowing what to expect and hardly possessing the strength to care. There were too many contradictions inside his mind to ever clarify the situation either way, so he tended to take everything the old man said at its contemporary value, and live in the moment. It was the only way he could maintain polite discussion.
"I let you down throughout your school career. It is too late now, perhaps, but I shall say it anyway. I am sorry, Severus. So very sorry."
There it was. Snape closed his eyes as the words sunk in. The apology he had waited for all his adult life. Someone had finally taken responsibility and admitted that they had wronged him. He had expected to feel some great sense of triumph or celebration on finally hearing the words, perhaps going on to detail in exactly how many ways his existence had been ruined by the neglect he had suffered in childhood.
Instead there was only a slight feeling of nausea at having been secretly right all these years.
Snape did not know how he was supposed to react. What was Dumbledore trying to achieve by bearing his soul like this? Did he expect forgiveness? He had the confusing impression that he had either privately forgiven him years ago; or else that he would never be able to forgive him. One or the other. Albus was still ignorant of the fact that his treatment of Snape had contributed to his teenage miscarriage – that in many ways he was just as guilty over the unborn baby's death as Lupin and Black.
His arms tightened around Alexandra. He was glad of the anchoring weight of the child sleeping innocently on his chest, reminding him that the future was more important than these pains from the past. He had already told himself once that day to stop grieving for situations that could no longer be changed and concentrate on raising his baby girl. His surviving child. His Girl-who-lived.
"You cannot imagine, dearest boy, how delighted I was that night when you returned. I had dared to hope that you would prove stronger than your own anger and succeed in pulling yourself back from the dread path which had, I am certain, looked like the only choice. Had the circumstances permitted, I would have rejoiced aloud, hugged you in the Great Hall and shouted my admiration for you from the top of the Astronomy Tower. As it stood, I could only say 'well done' in private and send you straight back to the hell which you had so recently fled."
"Why are you saying all of this now, Albus?" Snape croaked, his eyes still closed as he stroked Saskia's soft hair. It was almost impossible to imagine the shifty, ugly youth of nineteen receiving the same casual public affection which the leader of the Light Forces conferred upon his handsome favourites. Not that it was ever an option, given the precarious nature of his double life.
"Child, believe me, the last thing I wish to do is cause you more pain. I am afraid these things should have been said a long time ago," the old blue eyes were brimming with sorrow, not that Snape was able to meet them for long enough to notice. "I don't believe I ever told you how much I enjoyed our week-long chess games once you began teaching; our squabbles over the correct way to take tea, fitting punishments for misbehaving students and the thousand other matters we disagree on. There is something most…endearing in your caustic attitude which I have missed every day since leaving Hogwarts. You unusual personality seems to be an acquired taste which confounded me when you were little, but I find the older we become, the more I find myself drawn to you."
Black eyes snapped open at the last comment as a suspicion began to niggle at the back of the potion master's mind, concerning a possible connection between Dumbledore's confession of loneliness and his feelings for Snape. Surely he was mistaken? Albus could not possibly be leading up to…
"Which is why I was compelled to come here today, once I heard of your estrangement from Remus."
Snape's eyes slid closed again. Oh, Merlin! He was.
"You once informed me that, though you could not love Remus, you could live with him for the sake of providing a stable family for your daughter. Now that the boy has shown his disinterest in such an arrangement, I wonder if you would be able to consider myself as a suitable substitute?"
"Albus," Severus began, but was silenced immediately.
"Please, dearest, do hear me out. With your habitual selfless nature, you have endeavoured to act in Saskia's best interests since before she was even born. I do not wish to use her as leverage on your answer, but I firmly believe that I will be able to make a fine contribution to her future. She is a bonny child and I hope to be a part of her life whatever choice you make – you know how much I love young people! I am sure she and I will be great friends. If you wish, I shall wholeheartedly join in the great task of raising her, in the role of stepfather.
"I am fortunate to still wield considerable influence in any number of circles within wizarding Britain, and I will be able to use my contacts wherever possible to improve her life and yours, be it working against the prejudice surrounding male pregnancy or merely smoothing her path into the great wide world.
"Pray excuse the vulgarity of mentioning money, but you were ever a practical person, Severus. Cosy Toes is a modest enterprise with a small living space above the shop which I chose for comfort purposes only. Upon the death of my father over a century ago, I inherited the bulk of the Dumbledore estates in Somerset, including the family seat outside Glastonbury, Bourdon Hall, which I find excessively large for one person. I confess I have not made as much of the place as I could, but if you so chose, we could live there in style and have Saskia enjoy the extensive grounds, forests, the lake and all the other paraphernalia connected with an historic house. I think you will enjoy the library," he twinkled. "Eccentricity is an hereditary trait which my ancestors possessed by the cauldronful. There are some highly intriguing texts lurking in the darker recesses."
Snape stared mutely at the fire for a long time. Albus finally sat, folding his hands neatly in his lap. He did not push for an answer, seeming content to let the younger man reflect on what had been said. Eventually, Severus spoke.
"What exactly are you offering, Albus?" he asked, flashing a glare which suggested that he ought to get right to the point.
"A partnership. A second father to your daughter. A little comfort for you both. Remus will be welcome as often as you choose, naturally," Dumbledore paraphrased.
"And what do you want in return?" wondered the Slytherin.
"A little comfort of my own, I suppose. The chance to build a relationship, to help raise your lovely child – to do the ordinary things I have been too busy fighting to find time for."
"Do you suppose that you can atone for the mistakes you made when I was young by lavishing care and attention on my daughter?" Snape asked sharply, letting his mask slip enough to release a fraction of the stormy emotios which the old man's speech had stirred up.
"I can try," replied Dumbledore, looking directly into his eyes. They watched each other for a few minutes, both knowing the other well enough to be sure that legilimency was not an option, but trying to read as much as they could regardless. Albus cracked first. "Let me love you, my dear. For once in your life, allow someone to care about you."
Saskia awoke suddenly and exploded straight into an inexplicable fit of howling. Snape was hard-pressed not to join in. For a wild moment, he wished she were old enough to sensibly discuss their future, and he keenly felt the pressure of being forced to make a life-changing decision on someone else's behalf. How could he take such a responsibility?
"Severus, I am not expecting an answer right away," Albus said kindly. "I understand that this has come out of the blue and you need time to decide. Take as much time as you wish. Remember too, that it is not necessarily forever – if you agree then discover later that we are incompatible, we can reassess the situation. Will you promise me that you'll consider?"
Swinging Saskia gently on his hip to sooth her, Snape nodded and managed the ghost of a smile.
"I will, Albus. Thank you."
Encouraged by the small smile, Dumbledore decided to push his luck and ask for a kiss.
"Just to show that you are not offended," he twinkled hopefully.
"Offended?" echoed Snape, not understanding. The baby quietened down again and contented herself with whimpering loudly in her Papa's arms.
"Offended at being propositioned by a dippy old sock maker who was at school with your great-grandmother," he grinned. Snape almost laughed.
"Who also happens to be the most powerful wizard in the world," he added dryly.
Dumbledore shrugged, indicating that this was beside the point.
"Very well," Snape agreed, knowing that he was definitely blushing this time and hating the fact. The older wizard moved forward slowly, as though wary of upsetting a highly-strung and dangerous hippogriff and very softly pressed their lips together.
Whatever the younger man had expected, it was not this. The beard was neither itchy nor uncomfortable, as he had suspected when writing his list of potential fathers back in the beginning - it was rather pleasantly tickly. His breath was sweet and pepperminty and his lips were intriguingly soft. He felt one of Dumbledore's hands come up to stroke his beautiful hair, while Saskia wriggled slightly on his hip. It felt odd to have someone touching him like this, with such tenderness, such reverence; he was just beginning to enjoy the sensation when a harsh voice cut through their explorations like a bucket of iced water.
"What the HELL is going on here?"
Startled, the smoochers broke apart to see Lupin standing next to the fireplace, as he had never been seen before.
His body was rigid, with his hands clenched in fists at his sides and his shoulders slightly hunched as he leaned forward threateningly. The intense expression on his twitching face could only be described as 'feral', especially the way his top lip kept lifting of its own volition to display his upper left incisor. Snape did not remember Lupin's eyes as being quite so yellow before.
"Remus, dear boy, how nice to see you! I was just…" began Albus benignly.
"Get away from him!" snarled Lupin. Snape's and Dumbledore's faces fell in unison. They turned to stare at each other, confused.
"Are you unwell, Lupin?" asked the potions master sharply, unconsciously turning his body so that he was between Saskia and the angry werewolf.
"Shh…shut up!" Lupin muttered, shaking his head slightly and screwing his eyes closed, apparently not addressing the other men in the room.
"Remus?" asked Dumbledore, becoming concerned.
Of course, neither Dumbledore nor Snape could hear the voice inside Lupin's head which was screaming;
"KILL! A-WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"
"No!" shouted Lupin, his eyes still shut.
"Mate is OURS! Cub is ours! Who does this old two-legger think he is? Rip his throat out! Kill!"
"S…Sever-erus," Remus wavered, forcing himself to calm down as much as possible.
"Yes?" replied a mystified Snape, who was now taking no chances and clutching his wand.
"D…nnnn…do you h…have any wolfsbane sachets about the place?"
"Bite him! Oh, Akela's whiskers, you are such a BETA, Human! That's our MATE!"
"It is not yet full moon, Remus," reasoned Albus. "Why do you need wolfsbane?"
"I just do." Twitch. "I'd like some wolfsbane now, please."
"Wait, is he talking about weak-poison?"
"Yes he is!"
"Lupin? What's wrong with you?"
"Don't you dare!"
"Anything to keep you under control, you murderous beast!"
Realisation dawned on Snape and Dumbledore. Severus tightened his grip on his wand and Albus stepped away to put a good few yards between the two of them, having some idea that ancient protective forces were at work here.
"Is it the wolf, Remus?"
"Mm-hmm. He's objecting to…nnnnnn…I'm warning you! I'll do it! Weak-poison time!" he clenched his teeth as the internal struggle raged harder.
"No! Who will defend cub?"
"I will."
"Hah! Human? Bloody bunny-rabbit, more like! Kill the interloper!"
The next thing Remus knew, a foul-smelling goblet was being held under his nose and he grabbed it eagerly. Just one sip did the trick. The wolf retreated, leaving Remus exhausted but his human side in complete control, as it ought to be at that time of the month. He staggered to a chair and flopped into it, grimacing at the foul taste of the potion.
"Excuse me," he sighed. "I don't know what happened. I've only heard the wolf in my head once before and that was the night Saskia was conceived. I don't understand."
Snape bit his lip and glared at Albus, who took the hint and left with a final entreaty to seriously consider his offer.
"Lupin, I believe I know why the wolf has reacted this way on these two occasions," he released the pigtail spell and his glossy hair fell shimmering to his shoulders, inciting a gasp from Remus.
"Oh! It's so lovely! What…?"
"You have known about your homosexuality for a long time, correct?" he hazarded.
"Mmm. Huh? Oh, yes, since I was about fourteen, I think," Remus was openly gaping at the beauty of the Secret Weapon, paying minimal attention to what Severus was saying. Rolling his eyes, Snape got up and placed Saskia in his lap to distract him. It worked. "Hello, gorgeous!" he beamed at her.
"So. For your entire adult life, you have only been attracted to males?"
"Yes, that's right," confirmed Lupin.
Snape continued his hypothesis. Werewolves, he argued, like normal wolves, were interested in the sexual act as a means of reproduction, therefore the persons which Remus the human found desirable, were of no use to Remus the wolf. The exception to this rule, however, was Severus Snape, who fulfilled both criteria in being male but able to carry children.
"But I never found you attractive at school," puzzled Remus, then realising what he had said, his shoulders fell apologetically. "Sorry, I mean…"
"That is a fact, Lupin, therefore not something which you should be sorry about," Snape fought hard not to roll his eyes again. "I was male and able to bear children, but because you were not attracted to me, nothing happened. The night Saskia was conceived, I had attended to my hair to render it desirable in order to seduce you. It would seem that when I did so, I was not only male and fertile, but also attractive in your eyes. The alignment of these three factors seduced you and your wolf good and proper."
Lupin stared at Saskia as he tried to process this new information. She kicked him in the ribs.
"But you didn't know all that at the time, did you?" he asked, after a moment's silence.
"No. I only guessed at what happened after your…ah…vigorous sexual performance which I felt was totally at odds with your usual polite and considerate behaviour," he allowed a small smirk to pull at one corner of his mouth.
"You…you said it was OK though," Remus looked up in concern.
"Very much more than 'OK', I assure you," he shot a sultry look at the werewolf, who visibly shivered, no less drawn to the power of the SW now that he understood it.
In need of more explanations than this, Remus turned the conversation to Snape's list and his reasons for choosing Remus. They summoned the infamous notebook once more to settle all of his questions and though Remus felt many of his friends and acquaintances had been dismissed rather harshly, he understood Snape's reasoning in most cases. Glancing once again at his own attributes, a phrase, which he had not noticed the first time, leaped off the page and made his heart skip a beat.
Snape knew from one look at his horrified expression exactly which part he had read.
"'Reason first baby died'?" Lupin blinked slowly, cuddling Saskia tight against him. "Severus?"
Well, Snape thought to himself, he would have found out eventually. It was time to come clean. Or clean-ish. As clean as the potions master was ever prepared to get, at any rate.
"Did I kill a baby?" Lupin's face had turned grey.
"The night Black sent me to the Shrieking Shack," Severus began, establishing from the outset whom he blamed most of all for the fiasco, if only to lessen the werewolf's inevitable feelings of guilt. "I was unaware that I was pregnant. The trauma of the experience caused me to miscarry. I am afraid I always held you and your friends responsible for that."
Saskia filled the otherwise painful silence with small baby-sounds and Snape found that, for some reason, he really needed to hold her. He got up and moved to take her from Lupin, but Lupin's hand shot out and grasped his elbow.
"You lost a baby, because of me?" his voice was barely a whisper.
"More because of Black. And Dumbledore's indulgence. But you played a part." It was a day for revelations. Another of his long-term fantasies involved telling the Marauders how their youthful prank had ended in murder, usually with them twitching at his feet under a hearty Cruciatus and being favoured with the elegant sneer he had learned from Lucius. Again he was disappointed. This grey-haired, well-meaning war veteran was suffering agonies since he found out, yet he discovered that not only could not gloat, he was even trying to make it easier on him. For a second, he tried equating this gentle man with the slavering hell-fiend he had encountered that awful night, and failed.
Lupin hauled on his elbow until he was forced to sit beside him in the same chair, then pulled him into a three-way hug, with Saskia sandwiched in the middle, his breath audibly catching as he fought tears.
"What did Dumbledore say? He never mentioned this to me," he quavered.
"He didn't know," Snape admitted.
"What! You were fifteen years old! What did you do? How did you cope?" Remus gave in and began to weep quietly.
"I was not without friends in Slytherin house," Snape explained, careful not to give away more than he intended. "I used my contacts to get hold of a private healer rather than have some National Healing Service do-gooder run straight to my father because I was underage. And I 'coped', as you put it, by becoming very angry. The enormity of the situation did not sink in until much later. I only began to grieve for the child in the course of my spying work at Malfoy Manor, when I spent time with little Draco and realised the significance of what I had lost.
"I was heartbroken for a time, but then the war ended, the world changed and I was busy every day. I never forgot about her though - a girl, apparently - and gradually I decided that if I had managed to conceive once, perhaps I could do so again. So when the Dark Lord vanished for good, I sat down and wrote my list."
"Oh, Severus," Lupin buried his face in Snape's shoulder and shook with grief. Saskia sensed that all was not well and began to whimper in sympathy. Both men turned to comfort her, eventually deciding that she was better off being kept away from all this flying emotion and asking Pip to put her to bed.
By the time the baby was settled, Remus had had chance to recover himself a little.
"I suppose it's far too late for apologies," he sniffed, unknowingly echoing Dumbledore's earlier statement. Snape sat with his fingers steepled in front of his face for a moment while he considered.
"That was in the past. You have given me Alexandra. My future," he said evenly. "If anything can absolve your culpability in the death of my first child, it is having provided me with my second."
The smile broke across Lupin's face like some poetic allegory of dawn.
"Yes, you're right. Oh, I'm so pleased!" His face quickly clouded over again as another thought occurred. "Though I suppose you think my friends got their comeuppance a long time ago? Indirectly, I mean."
More directly than you will ever know, thought Severus, not prepared to share certain memories with anyone.
He had never told Lucius the whole story about the circumstances of the miscarriage, having been forced into taking all manner of dangerous oaths concerning Lupin's little secret by an unforgiving Dumbledore, but the older boy knew for certain that the four Gryffindors, who had devoted their whole school careers to tormenting his lover, were guilty of murdering the (sadly illegitimate) Malfoy heir. Historically, murdering Malfoys was not something which could be got-away-with - relatives usually turned their grief into more productive emotions, so it was a well-established fact that anyone who succeeding in killing a member of the wealthy dynasty would regret it deeply for the immeasurably short remainder of their lives.
Lucius was a careful man. He was not about to go using Unforgivable curses on schoolboys underneath the nose of a wizard powerful enough to make even the Dark Lord tremble. Instead, he noted 'vengeance' down on his to-do list, and got on with his life, comforting Severus, developing ties with the Death Eaters, marrying Narcissa Black and begetting himself a legitimate heir.
Snape was in the room when the opportunity arose, several years after the terrible night. The Dark Lord was seated at his great mahogany desk, his sleeves rolled up to the elbows, little rectangular glasses perched on the end of his nose as he pored over the papers detailing the possible candidates for the 'Chosen' baby featured in the prophecy which Snape had managed to overhear.
He asked for his faithful followers' advice. All present stood to attention as he revealed that there were two young couples matching the criteria for the birthing of his nemesis. Both families, he decided, must be destroyed; yet whilst they remained under the protection of the sweet-sucking Old Fool, it would take considerable effort to track them down. It may take months or even years to break their complicated protections. Prioritisation, he decreed, was the key.
"So, my friends," even sitting in this informal state, the force of the Dark Lord's charisma made Snape's diaphragm buzz, "Do we concentrate our deadly efforts on the Longbottom family, or on the Potters?"
"The Potters, My Lord," replied Lucius smoothly, without hesitation.
Even Malfoy had to admit that their revenge had an unfortunate side-effect. Yet - accidental demise of the Dark Lord or no - he had accomplished what he set out to do. Potter dead, Pettigrew dead (or so they thought), Black imprisoned for life and Lupin left alone to collapse under the weight of the awful situation. He tossed back his handsome head and nodded once to Severus.
"That, my dear, is what happens to those who mess with us!"
But it had all been too late. Leaving the Death Eaters and turning spy had changed Snape irrevocably and driven a wedge between him and the golden god who had captured his childhood heart. Love and admiration are two entirely separate emotions, he found. By then, he was still in love with Lucius, but simultaneously rather revolted by some of the acts he had seen his lover commit. By then, Dumbledore's wishes were more important than Lucius'. By then, there was no longer an 'us' to mess with.
Returning his thoughts to the present, he looked at Remus and wondered how different the wizarding world would be now, if Lucius had not influenced Voldemort's choice that night.
The amber-brown eyes were watching him, full of emotion.
"Knut for your thoughts," Remus offered mildly. Snape swallowed, almost painfully glad of his automatic occlumency. This was another piece of his past which he was not prepared to share with anyone. Ever.
"I doubt they are worth so much," he replied quietly.
Lupin smiled and took his hand.
"May I ask a question?" he asked. Severus nodded. "Why was Albus kissing you earlier?"
Snape explained and the werewolf grew indignant.
"I am Saskia's father!" he glowered. "I may not be as rich as him, but if you're looking for a live-in partner you should at least consider me!"
One black eyebrow rose extremely slowly.
"Would you care to rephrase that statement, Lupin?" he asked icily. Remus stared for a moment, before having the effrontery to giggle.
"Oh gosh, Severus, I'm sorry!" he snickered into his hand like a child. "I'm a bit wrung-out after all this. What I meant to say was, that if you'll have me, I would like the three of us to live together. As a proper family. Will you allow me to court you?"
The words sounded ridiculously formal coming from Lupin, more so, in fact, than Dumbledore's entire prepared Victorian-style proposal speech.
"I confess that I am rather wrung-out myself," he sighed, passing a hand over his brow. "Thank you for your offer. I need to take time to think, about you and Albus both. With our daughter's future at stake, I do not feel myself in a position to act hastily. I…I hope that does not disappoint you."
"No," Remus shook his head. "I expected nothing less, from you."
Expressing a need for some air before returning home, Lupin decided to walk down the lane for a while before apparating, instead of taking the floo as usual. Fresh air sounded like a good idea to Snape, who strolled with him down the front path. Stopping when he reached the fence, he raised a hand in farewell to Lupin and leaned on the gatepost.
He felt as though he had lived a hundred lives in one afternoon. 'Wrung-out' did not come close to describing the emptiness in his brain since all the emotional developments had careered around it.
He remembered bitter feelings of hatred for both men in the past, both in their own ways being to blame for the ruination of his childhood and his decision to join the Death Eaters; now they were rivals for his affection. Actually, that was not strictly true - Snape did not doubt for a minute that neither would have looked at him twice, were it not for Saskia. He took a deep breath and sighed it out. He owed it to his little girl to make the right decision here.
The obvious choice was Albus, of course. Wealthy, powerful, influential and good with children, he would make a fine stepfather. Lupin was already bound to Saskia by blood, too, so choosing Dumbledore would ensure that three people would be around to raise and adore her, instead of two. But could Severus cope with his eccentricities on a daily basis? The sweets, the socks, the inane chit-chat, the pyromaniac familiar (if Fawkes ever deigned to return) were all very well once in a while, but he suspected that being confronted with them from dawn 'til dusk could do things to a person's sanity.
Then there was the matter of Lupin. Choosing him would make them a nuclear family, giving the baby the most stable upbringing of all. He was calm, neat, unobtrusive and closer to Severus' age, but the terrifying spectre of his lycanthropy lurked in the back of his mind whenever they were together. Snape had deliberately visited him in his wolfsbane-neutralised transformed state on two occasions, both of which had been for Alexandra's direct benefit, both of which had been absolutely bloody terrifying. Could he accept that his partner became a monster each month without becoming a nervous wreck?
Snape felt the need to make a list.
He turned towards the house and walked slowly through the front garden, appreciating the blue sky, if not the chill breeze, which reminded him that he was rather underdressed for being outdoors in March. He rubbed his hands together for warmth and was mentally mapping out his first few points when he opened the front door and noticed something odd.
Despite being keyed to admit certain trustworthy individuals, the magical wards on the house were so stringent that he normally felt them slither over him, verifying his identity and subtly acknowledging their maker, whenever he entered. Potter had been the only person to ever gain entry without permission, and even with all his auror's training, Pip had been alerted almost at once. Entering the house, he felt nothing at all.
The hairs on the back of his neck began to rise as he mouthed Pip's name softly, as he had the previous night, and got no response. Raising his wand he strode into the hall and saw a small pair of feet lying on the floor at the very bottom of the stairs.
Pip was motionless, hopefully just stunned, but there was no time to find out as Saskia started screaming upstairs and Snape rocketed up and across the landing and to the nursery doorway where he froze in horror, terror, pain, shock, anger and a few thousand other forms of trauma. He could not move. He could not speak. He could not breathe.
He could only focus on the wand being held at his daughter's throat.
"Hello, Snivellus," said Peter Pettigrew.
…….
AN: Ooh! Sorry that took so long, I was struck down with a foul chest infection last week, but the good news is that I bought a laptop in the January sales so can now start writing outside of office hours too! Yay. Well, it's too bloody cold to bother with a social life.
Ten points if you saw Albus' speech coming! Ten more points for identifying the two classics where I nicked 'fine eyes' and 'unfortunate brother' from. Dix points et un pain au chocolat if you get the significance of Bourdon Hall.
Yes, Severus is being economical with the truth, as usual. He has also conveniently overlooked his own role in the miscarriage. Remus needs to ask a few more questions, but he's a bit too dazed at the mo.
Couldn't resist having Malfoy as a bottle blonde, heh heh.