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I apologize for the less frequent upload, I am still trying to establish that new routine especially in the summer months when all the kids are at home (which is wonderful by the way, only counterproductive in uploading with the amount of travelling and hiking we perform), but hang on, because I will not abandon this story and the uploads are coming. Promise.

HP and his world still belong to Rowling, thank her for this wonderful playground!

Going on...

Chapter 23. What's normal?

Returning to Hogwarts was nearly as surreal as arriving at Héloïse's garden. After weeks of studies and meditation under the watchful eye of the grumpy house-elf, wrinkled by his uncounted years, and later additional training and discussions with Héloïse, Severus was his calmest and most confident self he has ever been. His insecurities didn't vanish as for they were part of his being, but he gained an understanding of their origins and accepted them among his other – rather severe – flaws.

The only issue he couldn't solve was about the younger witch. It was hard enough to decide if he ruined her for a lifetime or helped her along as an inspiration after their first encounter, but to process their kiss also felt nigh impossible. He felt guilty for endangering her again, this time in her adult life, almost dragging her into his circumstances which he could never alter to a point to accommodate such a witch.

He was ashamed to think of Héloïse and her hospitality paid back in such a manner. He had no way to order his thoughts alternating between re-living the bliss of that moment and feeling guilt, for he was convinced he should never have let such a moment occur. He repeated himself he could only harm her if he chose his baser instincts instead of taking the friend he finally found, all while trying to order his myriads of thoughts and emotions, understanding his own nature. The task was too complex to even hope for a measure of success.

So Severus kept off not to harm her more and worked on his multiple other issues. This might not have been the best course of action as it became obvious by the end of their stay.

Héloïse one morning invited him to the small garden behind the house and made it clear she was readying him for their farewell.

"Now you are healing, do not forget that, even when it's hard. Because that is the nature of the wounds. They hurt. But they heal. Don't hurry the process, don't be too eager. Accept. A pity I cannot count you among my pen-friends," – she smiled. "Corresponding with you would be a treat, I'm sure. I grew rather proud of you, Severus," – she finished squeezing his arm.

He wanted to reply. There were actually a dozen things he thought of asking and telling before she said the word "proud," but that hit him with unforeseen force, making his throat narrow with emotion. Héloïse was the closest thing he experienced to a caring mother, which was not something he could express in any way. He briefly wondered what his life would have turned out to be had he heard those short words ever before.

She went on as if she had no idea about his musings.

"About Sage," – she began and searched Severus' eyes. "Whatever is on your mind, give her time. She has always been exceptional in understanding. Let her use her abilities. She will be fine."

Severus wanted to pull far away with what he perceived as a threat against his privacy, but now he recognized his feelings for what they were, guilt and self-reproach, and stayed. How much could the old witch know about his mistake in that moment of weakness? What did her grandchild tell her?

Instead of asking or excusing himself, Severus only nodded. Beauxbaton entered the garden closed up in her occlumency, hardly spared a glance for him, only hugged her grandmother and wished her goodbye. She took Severus' hand exactly the same way she did several weeks ago in her room at Hogwarts, and after a few meaningless words of farewell, she uttered the spell to return to their lives.

"Locumtotum Reverso"

After a short route through the blackness, spotted with various colours of light, Severus found himself in the same second he reluctantly held the witch's hand, the scarf she hung to dry of the anti-doxivenom dripped above the working table, and the castle was cold with the first real bite of the winter.

"Beauxbaton," – he tried when the witch turned away as soon as she let his hand go. "I need to say-"

"You don't need to say or do anything," – she quickly cut him. Her eyes sparkled with ire. "But I tell you two things, take those as your next precious rules. I don't need your pity. And I do have a name!"

With that, she turned and walked out of the room, closing a small tapestry door behind her.

Severus rubbed his cheeks in frustration and recalled Héloïse's words to give her time and trust her, now – after she literally closed the door on him – they seemed more adequate then when he heard them. He left her rooms with a heavy sigh, and on his way to the dungeons, tried to recall the evening he left them.

He wanted to know what happened to Hagrid. He wished if Dumbledore already returned. One look towards the Slytherin corridor, and he knew he needed to contact Lucius and discuss his son. Was there anything else?

Leaving the Safe-place in its morning, he was full of energy and attacked the hopeless pile of essays to correct and mark them. By dawn, he slept some hours in his bed, finally not afraid of harming himself of the ceiling, and proceeded with his boring tasks. Bliss.

He half-heartedly hoped to see the Headmaster or at least Beauxbaton at breakfast, but neither graced their table. Oddly, even McGonagall's presence couldn't make up for the loss of Héloïse and the mood he learned to enjoy in her home. Umbridge's unstoppable babbling about the Ministry and the new educational decree was much worse than he remembered.

Really the harpy could at least keep to her rooms on Sundays! – the thought gave place for careful hope: it was still only Sunday. He realized he had time to investigate Hagrid's route. However, it won't be easy. Hagrid had no way to know about Severus' journey in the summer, but now with the right thought in mind, Severus quickly left the Head Table.

Hagrid was grumpy and slow to open his door. Slow enough for Severus to count the footprints in the snow. When the door finally opened, Snape was sufficiently taken aback by the sight of his damaged face to lose the pleasantries and spit the first thought on his mind.

"Already had visitors, I reckon."

"Oi, Professor, that unpleasant witch came by – er… What can I do for yer?"

The gamekeeper seemed hesitant enough, and he avoided looking into his eyes.

"May I?"

Snape stepped by the giant and entered the familiar hut without a qualm. This wouldn't be the first cuppa if he just can make the hairy man to share. Fang came to greet him swinging his tale, but Snape had enough experience with the horrible beast to keep his muzzle away from his robe.

"What can I do for yer, Professor? – Hagrid repeated, closing the door. "It's been a while."

"It's been, but not by my fault," – he carefully began. "You deterred quite long this summer," – he shot a meaningful glance through the window on the snow. "Old Grubbly Plank kept going on about the thestrals the other day and planned to re-train the school owls."

"Eh, those need no training. I did my job, Professor. What's bitten the ole bag to find fault where is none?"

"Guess she could answer if you asked." – Snape looked about the hut and waited for the gamekeeper to invite him to sit. Hagrid seemed more reluctant than any time before. "Your favourite little Gryffs would be glad to regain you, I'm sure," – he tried.

"Those would," – Hagrid agreed empathetically. "Those would, wouldn't they? Now, why don't you sit, Professor? I put on the kettle."

Severus finally felt he might get somewhere and watched with a sense of old familiarity as this giant man fumbled with his tea-things.

"Hagrid, I need to ask-"

"Your kids wouldn't be the same enthralled to see me, I'm afraid."

"Probably not," Severus admitted. "But it's none of their decision. If you act with care, maybe none would try to kick into you this year. They are more enamoured with the new possibilities."

"That Umbridge woman." – Hagrid nodded low. Severus had to wonder if his injuries made him a little lightheaded. "I know how it goes. Vicious wretch, that is, your kids must be in awe. Suspicious lot, yer kids. They are trouble, all of them."

Snape arched a challenging eyebrow daring the big man to contradict him.

"Trying their fangs and claws like your young Gryffs do. Would you fill out the castle with Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaw wall-flowers?"

"I didn't say that, Professor, but you know how it goes -"

"I know," – Snape's voice hardened. "So I will stand by them. Don't make this a breach, Hagrid; you are now a Professor just like McGonagall or myself. You should take them all in; we've discussed that already. Not all are Malfoy or Pucey, you-"

"Yes, yes, I remember, I won't get you going, I would sit 'ere nodding till the sun sets down! Why did you ask about that woman?"

"You said she's been here."

"Oi, last night she was. Threatened - I couldn't even shell out with exactly what. Besides, she said she was to come back, which seemed bad enough a threat on its own."

"Do your class, as usual. She will find fault anyway whatever you do,"- Severus suggested. Then thinking about the four sets of footprints, he added. "Did she come alone?"

"She did, she did, of course."

Hagrid avoided his eyes, and Severus still had the impression it was not an outward lie. Still, he couldn't look deeper with the giant trailing his gaze through and through the walls, carefully looking at everything instead of letting his Legilimency taking ground.

"Don't you find that tea tepid?" – Hagrid finally tried to move away. "I can make another -"

"Hagrid, I don't care if Potter and his second selves visited you, but don't let him come down after nightfall! And for the sake of Merlin's guts, teach that idiot an obliteration charm! The brat is an embarrassment when it comes to subtlety or any manner of reason as it is. If nothing else works, tell him I was out to catch him!"

The hairy man let out a burst of bellowing laughter.

"That would work well, indeed!" – he wheezed - "Now will you tell me why you act as if you hated him so much?"

"Maybe I do."

Hagrid leaned back on his chair and shook his head with a knowing smile.

"You hate much less of 'em than they would ever think. What is this farce good for? Most show their faces better than the real, and here you keep acting the other way around. Even as a child, I remember well. Scrawny, pale little rascal, that's what you've been, and whenever bugged, you turned as if you were the devil's favourite nephew, sent to destroy the earth. But actually, you have never harmed them, just ran away."

Severus hated the reminder. It was one thing to force himself rearranging his mind under his occlumency for the bidding of some witches out of space and time, but he was not into discussing his years of torture as a schoolboy. Especially not with a blabbermouth such as Hagrid.

"It looks as if you had better taken a page out of that pathetic scrawny bugger's book, hadn't you? Have you seen yourself lately?"

"Oh, this?" – the behemoth touched his palm to a side of his swollen and decoloured face, flinching when his fingers accidentally brushed close to a sensitive spot. After a few seconds of confusion, he went on intentionally misinterpreting the question in Snape's eyes. "I use this beauty here; she will patch me back up soon enough," – he reached into a bowel and lifted a piece of slimy green dragon-steak.

Snape wisely decided he wouldn't ask where he got that.

"You must have met hostility in the north, but that should have healed while you were on your way back. Did someone wait for you? Can you tell good news?"

Hagrid anxiously turned his face away from his searching eyes, even stood and turned away when Snape proved himself too persistent to read him.

"I 'ave no idea what yer may keep talkin' about. I tarried, that's true, but no-one's business if I -"

"Hagrid, I know where you've been. Now, will you tell who attacked you, or shall I make inquiries?"

Oddly, Hagrid didn't turn back to face him. If anything, he hid his face even more, now wary even if the window would reflect his eyes.

"I will report Professor Dumbledore all I 'ave– Not that there's anything I 'ave to-. What makes you think I've been to the north anyway? I 'ad my holiday by the sea– erm… Personal affairs– I …"

And so the wrangling began, Hagrid dragging his feet, letting on no more but the fact he met with Olympe Maxime and Snape trying to wrestle out anything even remotely useful for an hour. Embarrassingly, Snape was the one finally giving up with a huff.

"All right, I take the lady must have a vicious streak if you sport no more than her fingerprints," – he growled, frustrated with his own constraints to hold his mouth.

If only he could just tell that he took time and effort to follow Hagrid, more, he got entangled with a series of events he could still hardly see the way out. Then the giant gamekeeper could have no more plea to withhold information. Alas, he could not tell a thing about his actions, and it seemed so couldn't Hagrid. So they could just sit around waiting for the omnipotent Albus Dumbledore to sort things out the way he deemed fit when he condescended to return to the school he led. Charming. Dumbledore undoubtedly ensured none of them could circumvent him.

Moments like these, Beauxbaton's concerns made more sense than ever. Severus had to wonder if the witch's background began to influence him more than it should, or was it him realizing his own streak to accept the judgement that changed his views… It was not the time for musings, he had to remember he wasn't safe anymore like he used to be at Héloïse's. Heck, his views were not changed either. His experiences were not about to deny his former alliances, only–

Shaking his head against his annoying thoughts and sinking into contemplation deep enough to completely miss Hagrid's last few words, Snape promised to send a batch of murtlap juice and dittany with one of the house-elves and took his leave.

He stomped back up to the castle with the single cheering thought of maybe seeing Beauxbaton and find calm in the fact her hissy fit subsided, but the witch didn't show up for lunch either. Snape began to tire of participating in all the meals. It's never been his way, and Pink's presence was more than enough to dissuade him, even if it was.

A quick turn on the second-floor corridor proved the headmaster hadn't arrived miraculously conveniently either. He only knocked on Beauxbaton's door because he was already there. There was no reply.

It was a disgustingly peaceful Sunday afternoon and unbearably early. After the trashing last day at the Quidditch pitch, his Slytherins won't provoke additional attention, he was sure.

Last day – who wouldn't think he exaggerated if he said it felt as it was last month! Heavens, what a spell! When Beauxbaton told him her late cousin used to be talented in charms, he translated it as she must had had a dab hand. Now, remembering her phrasing, saying she was shining like the sun didn't seem an exaggeration at all.

Is it even possible to feel remorse for someone's death one didn't even know? He had his own experiences with spell-invention. There could have been good discussions between them. Severus imagined himself on Héloïse's portico, smelling the summer, debating with Mira Rasical, and somehow he saw his hand lingering on Sage Moody's waist, maybe on her tights. Because she would be sitting with them, interjecting her humorous antics. The four house-elves would be diligently working in the garden, and Héloïse would demand them filling her in on seemingly unimportant details of the future…

Who did he want to mislead? It would be nice without the additional witches and the elves! Just the two of them. Watching the gardens lazily, arguing to the verge of bickering with Sage on something totally unimportant and ridiculous. She would make sure they would have an issue about anything at all… But she would be there. Close enough to grab on her waist, to caress her tights… Maybe she would be sitting on his lap, melting to his chest in a hug after every round of their petty little arguments flaring. He could stroke her all along her body, he could caress her butt, her legs… Merlin, she had beautiful long tights if that shadow on the curtain was anything to–

Shite. He either should beware of dull afternoons or have an outing to Knockturn, and soon! Severus caught himself this time before he regretted his wayward thoughts. Knockturn, indeed. There was a metamorph-witch he knew about; she would wear the features of anyone her guests requested.

Actually, there used to be a time he thought her services were handy. Before he realized the whole experience only served to throw him off-balance for weeks… Maybe not that witch then, but there were countless others. He neglected this part of life thoroughly since the goddamned Triwizard cup turned up at Hogwarts…

Feeling the utmost need to do something relevant before he drove himself crazy, Severus decided to bypass Dumbledore and try to find out about Hagrid's journey. He only heard Macnair's short public report, which helped nil, but perhaps Lucius talked to him since.

Within five minutes, Snape was through a quick floo-call to Minerva, telling the old witch about his urgent need for potion supplies, a jargon they used for ages to describe out-of-school duties. He had to promise he would return by dinner, but otherwise, he was free for some hours. Maybe he could also fit in a quick turnabout at Knockturn.

Snape hurried down to the gates and Apparated to London to show up at the Malfoy-home in his transfigured attire. Just like he suspected, he found Lucius in his study where he entered after the house-elf ceremoniously announced him.

This room changed enough since old Abraxas' times, so it wasn't intimidating anymore – at least not for these two anyway – but preserved the air of the unrelenting Slytherin heritage with the drapes and curtains made of heavy green velvet and the wall-paper adorned with dainty silver snakes. Thankfully most of those sound asleep at the moment.

"Snape!" – Malfoy looked up from what must have been numbers; otherwise, his focus would have been sharper. "Is everything all right?"

"If you mean about your son, he is fine. I haven't come ex officio, don't worry!"

Were they past that age when one may just pop in at the others'? – Severus had to contemplate the question, but his friend soon let his lazy smile rearrange his face and gestured him to sit in one of the more comfortable plush armchairs in a far corner of the room and joined him. This corner was infinitely more inviting than the initial impression upon entering, with the green drapes and snakes about the centuries-old desk.

"I should probably apologize. I should have sent an owl…"

"Don't be a fool, Sev; you may come whenever you do. Now, what brought you? Did you miss a friendly face?"

"Well, you can say that, but I hoped you'd think of sharing a drink before I seek one."

Lucius wheezed silently and snapped his fingers to open a small cabinet on his right.

"I can't remember last I saw you wishing for a drink, so make your choice, but tell me, are you all right? Has something happened?"

Severus called an old bottle from the cabinet. It looked like Ogden's but in a black bottle with a silver label. Lucius's brows rose swiftly, but he conjured two crystal glasses and poured himself.

"Upon surprises," – he offered, raising his glass.

Severus froze.

"You can't possibly imagine that I would drink on that," – he told Lucius with s saucy crook in the corner of his lips. "As I hardly believe you seriously consider downing your drink for something as atrocious as a surprise. You need to do better."

"Maybe. Or maybe I'm baffled at your sight in the middle of the term telling me everything was fine, albeit drinking before four. Give me a better reason!"

"Escapes!" – Severus lifted his shot glass. Now Lucius looked as if he had to suppress a smile.

"Are you into celebrating myths and legends? I would rather take something remotely real."

"Then you'll have to come up with one because I just had mine," - Severus said with uncharacteristic honesty, even if Lucius had no way to decipher his meaning.

"That is reason enough if it's true," – Lucius deemed. "Here, on escapes," – he lifted his glass and tasted his drink, watching his guest also having a healthy gulp. "What did you escape from?"

"Hogwarts." Severus compressed all the frustration he recently lived through into the short word. "It's as much of a prison as an opportunity. I rarely have a half-day for myself."

"I believe you."

"You will also believe your son would need a means to have his own way out, if not straight of Hogwarts, but perhaps other things… I reckon you already had his owl."

Lucius contemplated his glass for a second.

"We had, last night after the normal post. Narcissa couldn't be more distressed. Why would he fight the muggle way?"

"I thought he explained you just that in detail." As much as he wished to find out if Lucius knew more details about Hagrid's journey, discussing Draco's issues was also on the list.

"Oh, it was clear enough he should have. Even tried." – Lucius seemed almost amused. "Draco's letters are not more elaborate on his dealings than mine was to my father at his age. I often have the feeling I know only half of the truths."

Severus grimaced discontentedly. He hoped for more paternal reproach.

"I find that more than possible. Also, his secrets aren't as different from those you kept from your old man as you maybe hope. Whatever you told him about our Lord, he took it as encouragement."

This finally left his friend perplexed.

"I hardly think I should encourage him more. He has his views well-built already."

"Well-built enough to join our rows?" - Severus raised a challenging eyebrow.

Lucius plonked down his glass with a force he only held back with visible effort.

"What the bloody hell are you trying to tell me?"

Snape put his glass down silently and looked him in the eye.

"I found his actions bewildering enough to, while berating him, use Legilimency on your son." When Lucius stiffened, he didn't stop. "Whatever you told him after our meeting in the summer, he took it as a clear sign to dream his way up in the circles. He imagines all the fun, and lusts after Iris while making out with the Parkinson girl, which by the way, I bet would drive Narcissa up the wall. He envies you, me, and he's far not the only one tempted to join."

Sinking in deep contemplation, Lucius's face contorted as if he was in a peculiar kind of pain. He studied the thick carpet under his feet, only occasionally peeking up at his friend, trying to decide on his approach to the uncomfortable news.

"Crabble promised his son to our lord already; who else is in on their plans?" – he finally asked.

"Avery, without a doubt. Young Nott knows more even than Draco. My seventh-years are planning as if it was a carrier option, but only one of them is close yet to get the Mark. Draco envies him too. Shall I go on?"

"Can you?"

Snape answered only with a tight smirk.

Lucius refilled their glasses, obviously trying to win some time to think. It was only too plain to see how little he was pleased.

"He is too young." – the vicious Death Eater, second in command, the nightmare of most Order-members and who knows how many more, shook his head with a rare air of helplessness. Severus wasn't amused. It was nothing short of what he predicted, maybe even intended. "I am a most faithful servant, Sev, you know I am, but he is way too young to do what we did."

"And what we will do" – Severus drank stoically, but with a keen eye on his friend. Lucius rolled his eyes and pushed himself out of his armchair to begin his pacing in the room.

"What would you do to stop him if you must?" – Severus asked.

,

"Is there anything I can do at all?" Malfoy's voice was harsh and desperate, but as he faced Snape, his features were frozen in a mask of emotionless rigidity. He could have fooled thousands with the sight he presented, but not someone who knew only to look at his shaking hand.

Severus was thinking about Lucius's involvement and station and his reluctance to give himself to a master who once vanished without a clue, only to demand his status and wealth upon returning, and a shady and dangerous plan began to shape in his mind.

"Would you if you could?"

Lucius's eyes narrowed with suspicion.

"I'm a faithful servant. Are you here to test me?"

Snape's eyes flashed dangerously. "I came here for a drink."

Lucius swallowed and nodded before he continued his pacing for some more minutes.

"How could anyone hinder our Lord's gathering forces if we are both loyal and faithful to our cause?" – he finally asked after an abrupt stop. "I cannot be so selfish as to deny Him a faithful follower…"

"Of course you share whatever you have," – Severus was quick to agree. "Neither of us talks about denying an asset of our Lord. However, He needs supporters well-versed in magic and strong enough to serve. It's no shame to mix loyalty with a hint of common sense, especially if it also serves the Dark Lord right. Mere children are not efficient to serve Him; I think we agree on that."

"We might," – sang Lucius returning to his usual tone, inclining his head in a small bow, with a hint of a smile at his friend.

This was the closest Malfoy ever got to express gratitude, not that Snape needed more. After some more moments of pacing, Lucius stopped again, staring into his friend's face.

"Why did you tell?"

"Do you need me to spill all my reasons like a babbling toddler, or are you capable enough to find them out?" – he asked back as if the topic bored him, but Lucius went on.

"I know it was long ago… but you promised to look after our heir."

Severus nodded.

"What else?" – Lucius demanded.

Snape leaned back in the chair with a sight.

"Slytherin suae servat."

The phrase reminded him of the witch whose presence he last time uttered the words and swiped her image to a corner of his mind with a quick apology sent towards her grandmother. He swiped that thought after the first one with ease and alacrity while Lucius stopped short and swallowed with apparent effort.

"He is Slytherin." – He said, not looking Snape in the eye.

"Yes, he was." – Severus admitted ambiguously.

Proving his understanding, Lucius' eyes widened only for a second before he looked warily aside and nonchalantly added:

"We defend the cause if we keep an eye on who may join us."

"We do. With utmost loyalty." – Severus overemphasized.

Lucius Malfoy stepped to the small table, lifted the bottle and poured two more glasses with – for his credit – a barely shaking hand.

"Utmost loyalty" – Lucius Malfoy repeated, and this time both emptied their glasses with a quaff.

Severus would have been hard-pressed to admit it, but even his nerves needed the additional support. It was true that he was adamant about stopping Draco from taking the Mark, he would have stopped all his students had he a say in the matter, but he never dared to believe Lucius would be so much in agreement. He wondered briefly if the escape the Notts and the Malfoys tried to build in France changed their views.

For Severus knew for a fact that before when the Dark Lord last time used to be at the heights of his power, Lucius Malfoy would have been the last to betray him. Would he be the same now if he could see no opportunity to do otherwise? Or was he really that deeply influenced by the Dark Lord's sudden vanishing all those years ago?

Snape had no way to know it. Those years he was busy licking his own wounds, and had no time to see if the others also got injured. Cissy got hurt, that much he knew, or she wouldn't have sought him out. Now he began to believe her husband didn't escape with such ease as he would have liked others to think. Lucius Malfoy was a ruthless bastard - no question about that - however, he was also a wizard of tradition, skill and a complex political agenda. Vain like the devil himself, he could never swallow to get on the defensive side of an argument. And this same wizard had to argue his way out of prison. Undoubtedly, that was the least, but Severus doubted Lucius felt the same.

If Nott never had the connections to build up this alliance in France, Malfoy would probably strive only one direction, to please the Dark Lord and further his family's means through him. Now, that he had even the narrowest opportunity to choose, Lucius tried to secure his position for all possibilities.

Dumbledore would never trust a Malfoy, and perhaps he was right, but Severus knew the strength of Slytherin camaraderie. Utmost loyalty had a new meaning from this time forth: Commitment to Slytherin as they knew it, not as the politics demanded they thought about it. It was as close to open treachery as one may get, and he felt the danger in all his bones.

Before either of them had time to even try to carry on with the conversation, the new Malfoy house-elf popped up, announcing that his Mistress was ready with the tea.

"I should have thought she was aware of your visit," – Lucius grumbled and gestured them to follow their duty to please the lady of the house.

Severus hadn't felt the strength of those drinks until he rose to his feet. He watched Lucius regulating his features to what he thought acceptable with a secret smirk, but soon his own issues demanded his attention. He wasn't tipsy, not yet. His paternal heritage made sure on its own he wouldn't show a sign of it, even if he was, but behind his impenetrable Occlumency, his thoughts began to swirl.

Entering the warmly decorated parlour, he peeked at the old clock and found this way he won't have time for Knockturn if he had to return in time for a Hogwarts dinner. Blast Minerva and her bloody demands! Narcissa offered her hand, and he obediently kissed the air above it before submerging the dubious pleasures of small talk and soothing her feathers after Draco's owl last night.

"I'm so glad you could make it today," – Narcissa told him. "It is so rare a pleasure to see you. To keep to the school must be awfully demanding."

"Oh, your empathy is not misplaced. He has just described himself as a prisoner of Hogwarts" – Lucius smirked.

"True" – Severus grabbed on the word. "Telling the Dark Lord that whatever Macnair reported, the groundkeeper managed to return doesn't seem reason enough to ask for a private meeting. I thought I take the opportunity and come down at least to London."

"I will pass your news" – Lucius nodded. "Have you heard his report?"

"Macnair's? Only the public one. Our Lord had other plans for me, so I left early. Of course, I cannot aid you with your tasks either from my confines."

Malfoy's eye glinted suspiciously. Was it pride? Severus watched Narcissa supportively touch his husband's hand and knew what to expect before Lucius opened his mouth.

"You never needed to worry about that. I don't mind your positioning yourself the best you could, but that was a task for an adept hand to hold on the Ministry. I can't tell you all, but prepare for a summon before the Holidays."

"Then I guess a congratulation is in order" – Severus did his best to smile while filing the news.

Malfoy managed to find a way to the Prophecy, and Dumbledore wasn't even in sight. Brilliant. Should he tell Beauxbaton? Or a quick route to Grimmauld? Shit, to visit Grimmauld instead of Knockturn is a definite downward turn of his day. In his partially blurred thoughts Severus didn't contemplate if the Headmaster advertised these issues at Grimmauld at all, but the reflex to report was present and interfered with his wishes greatly.

Narcissa chatted something complementing her husband and Severus's not completely sober thoughts stuck at Beauxbaton's name. He had now a relevant reason to speak to her, maybe–

"By the way, Macnair was exceedingly successful. I am surprised to hear the behemoth returned at all. You will find it interesting; he tried to get the giants' alliance for that raving fool in your school. Well, fancy that! The old man sends his personal giant to serve as a liaison!" – Lucius snickered – "Of course, it didn't work out. The new gurg is on our side, and the rebels were punished. Pity that beast wasn't among them. I imagine he must have had a hard time finding his way out."

Bad news again, Severus inwardly grimaced while outward smirked. Fuck, he should really better go to Grimmauld, but he was torn between reluctance and the prospect to catch that witch alone. Hold your horses, you lecher, you already decided to have nothing to do with her – his still flickering sobriety suggested. He should have gone to Knockturn - he really should sort himself out! Narcissa's presence didn't help either. Gods, does she have to keep touching her husband's forearm?

"I'd better leave you" – he stood up to stop his inward rambling. "Narcissa, it was a true pleasure," – he bowed.

A pleasure indeed, she knows better than a tea! - his less presentable self couldn't help whispering. He should borrow Lucius's atrocious stick and knock that voice out for good! I thank you, but I would rather rely on my own stick – the voice insisted. He shoved it to the back of his mind with force.

"That odd witch seems to prove also useful. You'd better gear up if you want to rival my recent performances. The Dark Lord is well pleased with me at last" – Malfoy couldn't refrain from bragging as he escorted him to the entrance.

"Until he graciously teaches me, I have no reason to complain" – came Snape's automatic response.

"That you have not. Will you share His wisdom?"

Severus stared into his friend's eyes with surprise. He wasn't used to having so open a request and recognition from Malfoy, still couldn't regret disappointing.

"I never had permission to spread his words."

"Of course, of course."

Severus halted.

"Were you talking about Mad-Eye's daughter?"

"Yes, I hear she agreed to release his townhouse in Paris for the Rouxs. That's a big step forward. I can hardly wait to see the inventory. Jamie Roux promised to owl it in a few days. Provided that the witch was good to her word and travelled back yesterday."

It took years of relentless occluding and exceptional skill to hide the moment when Severus felt his heart stopped for a second.

"You'll be disappointed; she never left the castle." – Severus argued more for his, than for Malfoy's benefit.

"Hasn't she?" – Lucius mused with mild interest. "Well, I said she was an odd one. I remember the Dark Lord said she was craving death. I never trusted self-destroyers. Anyway, she either did what she promised, or she's into a last private exchange of views with our Lord…"

Severus could only swallow, but it didn't help much against his dry throat. She didn't reply to the door – he encouraged himself. What seemed annoying ten minutes ago felt now the spark of hope. A hope that she chose the long way down, not the short.

"I won't detain you; you must be awaited. It was good to see you, Sev."

Looking into Malfoy's eyes, he saw the shadow of their dangerous agreement, and he somberly nodded.

"Yes, it was good."

He Apparated from the Park, finding a secluded spot behind a tree, and began to mount the small hill to the castle on auto-pilot. He lost all inclination to have fun at Knockturn at the moment, and couldn't care less about the cretins at Grimmauld. Did she do it? Had she returned?

The understanding of her actions, the knowledge she took him to Héloïse before she went down this dangerous path – obviously leading to the destruction of all she treasured, and probably also her life – hit him in waves of astonishment, guilt and worry. What did she expect? It seemed obvious she wasn't playing on survival. At least Malfoy was convinced she didn't.

Severus Snape knew that mindset better than anyone, but he wished this witch never knew. He understood her actions like his owns now. She took him to a place where he could finish his training. To get rid of him, indeed, but not because she wasn't his friend. She did it to ensure he had all she could give him, before she faced her fall.

And in all the mids of that, he used her moment of weakness, nearly to a point to have his way with her, then ceased talking to her at all for weeks for he had no idea what he should say! A peculiar way to express gratitude! Merlin, no wonder she was furious! He got away only too lightly! But how could he have known?

His legs ate the remaining quarter-mile uphill, and Snape rushed through the entrance with his travelling cloak billowing behind him like a true set of wings on the bat of the dungeons. Let them stare! Not giving a damn about anything but to see her, he rushed up the second floor on the main staircase and rounded the corner of the corridor, only to almost collide with Umbridge.

Severus snarled with disgust, and judging by the toad's grimace, she must have smelled the whisky on his breath.

"What a surprise, Professor Snape. I thought you were out for specific potion supplies!"

For the sake of all that breathes and fucks!

"Well-informed, as always" – he offered with a forced tight smile. "Now, if you forgive me," – he tried to turn and flee.

"Came to see the Headmaster?" – The toad's voice made Severus stop short. "He is nowhere to be found. Such a case of negligence of office, the Ministry–"

Feeling his fingers itching to choke her, Severus finally remembered his last reason to do so, and that gave him an idea.

"No, I was looking for Professor Moody. She requested a bezoar. Haven't you seen her lately?"

The pink toad had the nerve to produce a contented smile.

"No, what could have ailed her? My, my… seems her foreign ways don't save her from all nuisances of life." – Her lips stretched even wider if that was possible before she went on on her affected girly tone – "Let me come with and see. She might need some additional assistance."

This was as good as a confession for Snape, and he made a mental note to revenge her intent as soon as he could, but now he only gestured the witch to walk ahead and knock, hoping Beauxbaton – by some impossible strike of fortune – would open the door wearing that ruddy scarf.

Of course, he never had much luck with his impossible hopes, and the door stayed closed. With the toad croaking at his heels, he couldn't even try to enter through her wards or to try to eavesdrop. They were nearing dinner, and she still hasn't returned.

"See you at the Great Hall," – he forced some friendliness in his voice, turning on his heels, but still could not have his escape.

"Professor Snape?"

"Yes?" – His tone and snarl would have been enough to scare off even a sixth-year. Umbridge took a step back.

"What about the bezoar?"

"If she needs it, she will know where to find me. I have better things to do than to idly wait on others."

When he briskly walked away, Severus waited for the Pink Peril to stop him again, but this time he made it to the dungeons without delay.

"Chubby!"

The elf popped up readily and bowed.

"I want you to report me when Professor Moody returns to Hogwarts grounds. Not only the castle, anywhere the grounds, can you watch out for the gates?"

The house-elf tilted his ear and stood up proud.

"Chubby cans. Chubby wills, Professor-Master. Master wants to hear Chubby's report on his House now?"

Severus glanced at the clock. If he wanted to make good on Minerva's demands, he'd better walked up to the Great Hall.

"Later, Chubby. Report me as soon as she returns, I don't care what time. But Chubby– don't let anyone else hear it!"

"Chubby is good elf, Chubby understands."

The house-elf popped away, and Severus got rid of his winter-cloak in favour of his teaching robe to join dinner, wishing if he was still at least a little tipsy.

It was as much of an abysmal affair as he anticipated it. The Pink ranted about the absence of Dumbledore, and this time McGonagall couldn't placate her. She targeted Vector and his "useless subject that scratches the line of a muggle science," and Beauxbaton who "disappeared without any serious reason". Of course, she ranted about the supposed omnipotence of Fudge too.

Severus found again – as he knew it from his younger years – that after a drink or a few, it was only natural and satisfying to add some more, and some unusual indulging in the elf-made wines made it easier to sit through the torture. He surely wouldn't make this a habit, but this time he felt justified in his reasons.

He missed that place. The safety, the knowledge, the grace… The loss of Héloïse's library would have been enough to pine after on its own right, but the gardens, the mood, and Héloïse herself – not even to mention... no, he wouldn't mention anything or anyone else. He told Lucius he drank on his escape as if he celebrated it. Truthfully this was the way he said his pitiful goodbye.

And the charmed goblet kept refilling itself.

The steps leading down to the dungeons haven't been this steeply dipping for quite a long time, but otherwise, he was fine. Finally, not being either on edge or closed up in his mind was a most welcome change. It should be enough that Chubby kept an eye out.

Severus set out a potion on his short table with foresight, to sober up quickly if he needed, and leaned back in his favourite armchair to enjoy the rare moments. He always loved this floating sensation, not yet completely smashed, but just on the verge.

He hasn't done anything even similar lately but that didn't mean he had no practice. It has always been a traditional and common habit among apprentices in Potions, to overindulge, experiment, and generally enjoy the additional benefits of the profession. Most only got to their senses for the short hours of performing their actual work. He used to be no exception.

Looks like neither was Beauxbaton, who thought? – he giggled to himself, remembering her satchel of herbs for semi-legal brewing. He didn't want to think about where she might have been at the moment. Chubby would alarm him if there was anything he could do.

The room turned around its axis slowly but decidedly, and Severus remembered he only had few hours before his Monday lessons. He should drag himself through his nightly routine and just tumble in bed. Chubby would wake him if he was needed.

He fumbled with his buttons and thought about Knockturn. Blast Minerva and her bloody cobblers! He could just be gathering his bearings now in the arms of a well-paid midnight-nymph. For fuck's sake, he was only thirty-five, not an ancient mummy, like Minerva, only left to dry! He worked hard for the money to give on! And that hard-earned money would finally serve him good instead of piling senseless because he had no bleeding life for– ever.

He finally stepped in the shower and had his perfunctory motions of cleaning up when he stopped short and stared at his cock like he saw it for the first time. The poor miserable beggar had his head up high as if it knew what they were missing! He drank enough not to care or think, just rubbed it as he should and gasped at the first wave of sensations.

Gods, he missed this! Severus's head knocked side on the tiles, and he gave himself to the short minutes of an empty mind. Only breathed, unthinking, with eyes shut tight while the shower drew erratic lines of dropping water on his skin. He couldn't swing over the edge. Hell, he needed to! Just once! Once in this bloody lousy life, he was going to get what he wanted!

He didn't want to think, but a vision of his favourite female bottom came flying to his aid, and he grid his teeth as he remembered her leaning forward in his storage room to inspect his decidedly classy preserve of salamander blood. I give you classy, witch, and with a final stroke, he flew right through the top, leaning heavily on the tiled walls with ragged breaths tearing from his lungs.

The joy was short-lived, and getting to his senses was so miserable he almost sobered up. The single loneliest experience of his pathetic life.

The bloody bat of the dungeons didn't even merit a whore at Knockturn! Not a pureblood witch or a decent friend, he wasn't even due to get a simple slut! If it wasn't so utterly ridiculous, he would have cried. He shouldn't be pressed to do it alone! Damn Minerva, damn Dumbledore, damn Voldemort and the bloody war!

He has always been lonely, but this was a new height. Damn Lily, she should have understood! – Even in his throws of fuddled agony, Severus paused.

He has never condemned her, but she should have listened! If she just had forgiven him, he could have directly warned her, helped her to hide, keep her secret location. He would have carried it in his soul himself; Potter wouldn't have even had to know!

Bloody Potter that damned dolt! Why hadn't they flee? But if he was too stupid to run at least he could have been there to help. Maybe with a second Fidelius, or something else, anything else, but her death - and now the struggle to keep her son of following her since he entered bleeding Hogwarts!

Oh, sweet Circe, he never meant to hurt her, why couldn't she forgive?

And Beauxbaton? She was furious. He knew she was. And with reason, now he understood. What if she won't forgive him ever either? What if he had already lost her?

Mercy, he wished only for a small mercy…. He would apologize. As soon as he sees her….

In the Great Hall,…

…in the Entrance Hall if he must!

…on his knees, if she wanted…

…whatever she wanted…

Gods, what if she won't forgive him? What if she wanted to send him away like Lily did? How would he live this down? She must know he would do anything…

Anything!

He was not ready to lose her, she must understand!

He never remembered stumbling to his bed or heard the elf pop in because he fell sound asleep beyond any attempt to wake him.