Hi Folks and a big thank you for all the encouragement and reviews! All your thoughts are very much appreciated.
I apologize for the delay, it was out of my control. My family had covid, falling to bed one by one. It's not fun, people, don't do it, stay safe! I'm proud to report I was the last one standing! :) Coincidentally I recovered for last. But I'm back, and I'm full of energy, so let's go on!
It's still Rowling's world. Good for her.
Chapter 35. By the Road of Freedom
He knew it! Goddamn them, he knew it even falling through the blackness, he knew that he would regret this for a very long time!
Bloody nitwits! Potter and his merry gang could take away even the most personal, most hidden, most…
Severus's feet touched the asphalt before a forlorn gas station & store somewhere in the backside of nowhere, and he hastily let the arms go he'd been holding.
"So," – he cleared his throat a little flustered – "This is the place which is yet to be Truxton. There are the White Hills," – he waved approximately to the north – "that way is Peach Springs, which might be misleading, no peaches at all… and somewhat further Chicago" – He cleared his throat again, studiously avoiding everyone's gaze around him. "That way comes Kingston, Oatman and eventually Santa Monica." – he added, and after gesturing to his left, eastwards, and to his right, westwards, his gaze sat for a second on the long plane of cactuses to the south. "Bear in mind, this was not a friendly invitation."
Severus decided it was wiser to head behind the gas station, to a secluded spot he enforced with multiple notice-me-nots and various other Muggle repelling charms. He found his bike all right there, at least. As much as he had no wish to discuss his safe place or their surroundings, he was sure it was eventually inevitable. Still, some childish part of him yearned to delay those talks.
He changed his robe into Muggle clothes, jeans, shirt, and a coat to keep out the wind when needed with a practised wand-move and managed to fish out his backpack from under additional spells, curses and the bike's seat before the others caught up with him. Sage kept looking around with a smile on her face as if she had a reason for it at all, Potter seemed disturbed, but not as much as Granger, and Weasley kept sharing his thoughts even while they walked up to him.
"…but I thought Chicago was in America–"
Severus opened the backpack and checked its's contents.
"Very astute, Mr. Weasley," – he couldn't help but sneer. "Chicago is indeed in America."
When the unusual amount of "but" began to flow from the choir of Gryffindors, he risked a peek at Sage again.
"Nice job," – she beamed. "Muggle clothes required?"
She watched him as if she wanted to guess the next step of a complex game, ready and eager to learn and have fun. Severus gazed along the road to give himself time to swallow his grin. If he had a Galleon for every time he wished to show this to her… although not in his wildest dreams had it ever occurred to him to have Potter and his Co. over while doing so.
"Advised," – he answered to the witch with a nod. "The native community has a slightly different standing with the International Statue of Secrecy, but we don't belong to them. And aside from their witches and wizards, most travellers we might meet are Muggles. So choose something old-fashioned; we are in the early fifties."
With that, he lifted his wand to help out the kids but got stopped short when Potter got to his wand with a fright.
"If I wanted you dead, you would already be gone for years, you brat," – Severus let it slip with a sneer.
"But Professor, how can you talk like that to Harry? He didn't do anything wrong!" – Granger stepped in as soon as she could, and she might have been right under different circumstances, however now…
"If it happened to escape your notice, Miss Granger, we are not in Hogwarts anymore*."
When the girl gaped at him, Severus transfigured Potter's school robe to jeans, a t-shirt and a coat, then went on doing the same for Weasley. He only then realized that Sage might not have understood him properly after all… but then again, it was hard to decide whether to laugh or curse.
Sage stood in a deep blue dress, nipped in the waist, with an A-line full skirt, a shawl with matching short gloves, and high heels. She was so much at odds with her surroundings that it was hard to even speak up against it all. For an insane second, Severus tried hard to picture her on the bike she was supposed to mount, and the creases ran together between his eyes.
"Fifties, America, I'm not stupid, I learned some from Muggle TV–" – she began, feigning self-assurance, and Severus decided to leave those hundred questions she just evoked for later.
"Well,…if I may…" – he stepped closer, and, visibly swallowing, he turned her dress into wide-legged trousers, a knitted blouse he had a faint memory about from the magazines in his mother's drawer – which he would deny even under torture – and something he deemed proper shoes. He hesitated for a long second before he added a leather jacket, and honestly, he regretted it soon enough. It suited the witch much more than what he was comfortable with at the moment.
Sage assisted Granger to change her looks in a similar fashion, and Severus grudgingly whispered Geminio to make a copy of his motorbike so their whole lot might get on the way. At least that has been his strong intention, but as always, the kids' prattling and all of Murphy's laws just had to come against it.
"Hey, Sev, is that you?" – Murphy's Law was carried out by a sturdy Muggle man, probably in his late fifties, heavily limping towards them from the shop's direction. "Amazing, man, you parked in yet again without me ever hearing the engine!"
"Works, like magic, eh?" – Snape twinkled to the old man and enjoyed the visible cringing of the youngsters behind him, but the old Muggle laughed heartily.
"Sure it does, if you beat it up! Who do you have with?"
"Daytrippers," – Severus lied and lifted his wrist with a grimace, silently sending a mild Confundus charm from his wand hidden in his sleeve, hoping against reason that the others would hold their tongues for a while longer.
"Day…" – the older Muggle began, then he just waved it all away. "Eh, I don't care… I've seen after your camp, Sev, next time you really should choose another halfwit, that's all I wanted to say."
"Come now, Vincent, surely there was no problem…."
"Problem? No. You've got your gallon of water just the way you wanted, and I carried up some reserves too. I just don't like going up there, you know? The hair stands up on my back whenever I see your place!"
Severus only shrugged with an amused half-smile on his face thinking about his various Muggle-repelling charms.
"I like it that way," – he replied and noticed with some alarm that the Confundus must have already begun wearing off because Vincent kept peeking behind his back. However well he liked him, it was overdue time to leave. He lifted a leg across his bike to give the man a cue.
"Wait a moment, Sev, I've got something for you!"
When Vincent turned his back on them to hurry to his shop, Severus motioned for Sage and the kids to mount the bikes. Unfortunately, it didn't go as smoothly as he would have hoped for.
"What do you want us to do?" – Granger eyed the duplicated bike with suspicion in her eyes.
"I thought it was obvious, Miss Granger–"
"But–" – Potter trying to elbow his way in felt disturbing enough for Snape to elaborate.
"Mr. Weasley, you showed yourself capable of driving your father's Muggle car, if I remember correctly," – he began not without malice. "I'm sure you'll find a way now."
He didn't mention those cushioning charms he added to all possible and impossible pieces of their transfigured clothes or the Geminio-ed motorbike's penchant to mimic its original's moves. In his opinion, all three of them deserved a few moments of sweating for their relentless efforts to sour his life, and in the off chance this would subdue them – well, he would surely not complain.
However, to Severus's amazement, Weasley seemed almost happy, taking his words as some twisted praise. Maybe understandable if one remembered he never had a chance to hear a syllable of appreciation in the confines of the dungeon classroom. Still, Severus found the boy's eagerness oddly entertaining, mounting the bike and engaging his friends behind him, with a little help of Sage's wand's expanding charm on the seat.
With slow moves, Snape rather showed than told Weasley how to start the engine, gave a quick run through the basics, and cast a protection charm around the kid's bike, that should be strong enough to ensure them floating away, rather than smashing into the road if it came to that. But, with or without those precautions, he began to think it was all a very bad idea by the time Vincent returned with a package of what seemed rugs.
"Nights are cold," – the Muggle mentioned as he handed the package to "Sev." Severus had already reached for his backpack to pay him when Vincent shook his head. "You just keep them… and maybe…."
Severus' eyebrows lifted with sudden understanding.
"Your trunk again?"
Vincent only shrugged.
"I'll see to it when I can," – Severus promised, eliciting a sudden tightening of Sage's fingers around his waist, which he understood as approval, although he would have had a hard time figuring out what for.
He led Weasley through the necessary motions with slow moves, and the two bikes pulled out to the road.
Severus watched Weasley struggling for long minutes before the kid found himself, and he had a hard enough time to swallow all the comments he could have sent in his way. Despite it all, the ginger did much better than he anticipated and got the hang of it sooner than anyone he could recall. Surely not something to unnecessarily praise him for, but at least Severus finally let himself gain a little speed, which felt oddly good.
Lately, he had learned to like this old Muggle-world more than he expected, a fact which required more consideration he wasn't ready to give, and it was all related to his experiences on the road. Despite all his previous reluctance to admit to it, the truth was that riding through old North America was the most liberating thing he had ever done without lighting up a cauldron. Even when it rained.
After about half an hour, he turned to a by-road and counted the turns till he found the small road taking them up towards the mountain, the only place he found actual trees around here. It was a good long trip, and Severus was glad that Weasley – possibly for the first time in his life – was up to the challenge.
Finally, they arrived at a dirt road which took them crossing the first shallow line of trees, where he had hidden his little camp. The concept always had been finding an escape from the crowds – here, he could safely say he had achieved that.
Sage's arms circling his waist, the sense of freedom under the endless sky and the engine's familiar and soothing singing all called for emotions and ideas he knew he'd better not have with the troublesome trio behind them. With little hesitation, Severus decided there was no possible way for the kids to lose track at the moment, so he escaped their proximity by speeding up a notch. Only enough to have a minute of solitude when arriving at his camp, which allowed some small liberties while helping the witch off the bike without witnesses. Surely, he wasn't supposed to endure her embracing closeness without touching her waist, and caressing along her spine, was he? Thankfully, Sage's gazing into his eyes for a dangerous moment suggested he wasn't.
Then the witch came to her senses and stepped back when they heard the others approaching.
"Well, this was something," – she used the last seconds of their privacy to tell him. "What is this?" – her caressing his bike was oddly erotic, as if he could feel it.
Severus cleared his throat again in a meagre attempt to clear his mind without straight-out occluding. "This? This is a 1948 Black Shadow," – he tried to keep a straight face, but the corners of his lips had their minds of their own. Especially when he added, "And let me tell you, witch, if you haven't found it 'something,' you wouldn't be worthy of riding it at all."
"That's a new side of you, but I like it," – she smiled with cheek, biting down her lip. "I would like it even more if you promised to teach me how to do it?"
At that moment, she looked so sweet and saucy that he wanted to lose his mind. To gather her up, put her on that bike and go roving till their days were done or to Apparate her to some secluded place, kiss her breathless and never stop were two of the possibilities to express himself, neither a viable option with the three Gryffindors arriving just the same time with the thought.
It only worsened his loathing of the brats' presence, and he was already wary of their reaction to his place. Not without reason, to tell the truth, for his "camp" was not much at all. A muggle tent, a half-roof hidden with branches and held together by magic to hide the bike under, a barrel of freshwater, an open-air fire pit with the cauldron he'd left hanging above last time he was here...
As his gaze slid through it all, thinking about a stranger's possible reaction, Severus regretted not taking up a fight in Hogwarts instead or letting the Pink Peril take Potter and figure out something else. Thus, when he heard the kids' repeated questions about what this place had been, he feigned comfortable deafness and let Sage explain some about the Locumtotum spell, shying away from even the thought of glancing at the witch.
Merlin blast it! Even Spinner's End would have seemed lofty compared to this! Severus acerbically congratulated himself on his matchless skills in wooing a worthy witch… Four bloody house elves in an orchard, indeed – he mumbled to himself and distracted his attention by dismissing the wards around his tent to enter.
The canvas was still thin enough to hear the conversation outside.
"So… we have all the time we need now to think up a solution, but we will return to the exact same moment we have left Hogwarts, right?" – Granger's intonation was the same he was used to hearing from her in preparation classes when the swot assessed details to usually fail in her conclusion. Severus grimaced.
"As you say, Miss Granger," – he heard Sage reply. "All we can change is ourselves. This is what this charm was built for. A safe place to adapt in peace to the challenges of life."
"Who wants to keep changing himself for the sake of a situation? It even sounds masochistic!"
"Some may argue, Mr. Weasley," – Sage said with a sigh, "that intelligence is not more than the ability to adapt to any situation."
"So, the inventor of this spell was not especially intelligent?" – Potter's voice asked, not even guessing how far he was out of line. Severus rolled his eyes.
"For your information, Mr. Potter, actually she was."
Hearing the barely restrained pitch of imminent yelling in the witch's voice, Severus wasn't surprised when the entrance of his tent lifted, and a thoroughly worked-up Sage Moody joined him still silently fuming. At the same time, the kids outside continued the conversation.
"What?" – Potter most likely answered either a hard stare or a severe nudge in his ribs.
"You don't say such a thing about the inventor of a spell-like that!" – Granger seemed ready to explain, but the boy obviously had enough.
"Why? Moody was ready to give me over to Umbridge!? And you know Snape… we need to find out what they're up to!"
"I'm with you, mate, this place is horrible" – Weasley joined in.
"But think about the theory behind it! You have to bend time and space and Apparition-theory together! You cannot say it's not a work of a genius! I wonder if it was Dumbledore or maybe Nicholas Flamel. Do you remember him? Or maybe–"
"Hermione!" – Weasley's voice sounded with a warning. "Just stop it, will you? I couldn't care less how this charm was made. I wonder what the heck we are to do here if there's to do anything at all?"
"Yeah," – Potter said – "Hermione, listen, they basically kidnapped us. No one knows we are here, and Snape is a Death Eater. We need to figure out how to escape– I mean… he could even call here Voldemort, or I dunno–"
"No, you don't," – Granger argued. – "Dumbledore trusts him, remember? And if we are really in the fifties and America, here's no such thing as Voldemort!"
"How do you know that? No one knows where he was before his first rising! What if Snape figured out and learnt a way to get to him?"
"Ron, I don't think he would need to do this. If he wanted to harm Harry, why not just give him over to Umbridge?"
"Maybe he doesn't want to help Umbridge, maybe he wants only to help Voldemort!" – Potter offered promptly, and Weasley echoed his thought.
"But Dumbledore tru–" – Granger's words cut by Weasley's enthusiastic reasoning:
"It makes sense, you know. Snape surely hates Umbridge after her inspection. But, man, that was fun to watch! And Fred and George told me they saw Moodiette in Hogsmeade the other night. She Apparated outside the village and Disillusioned herself before she climbed up to the castle. They wanted to borrow the map to see what she was up to, but it was too late by the time they could get out of the tunnel. Filch almost caught them when they returned to the castle."
"Your brothers had better not sneak out to Hogsmeade on weeknights, Ron, anything could happen," – Granger chided, but her voice lacked conviction.
"Okay. Ron, don't," – Potter's voice must have stopped Weasley from giving an angry answer. "So Snape is… Snape. And Moody is sneaking around. And we don't know whether Voldemort was in America in the fifties, and we don't know how to get home. Right?"
Granger's voice seemed hesitant. "Well–"
"It's not likely we'd find here anything to eat either. Have you looked around? I'm famished. And this place is so shoddy, even the Burrow would look a palace!" – Weasley said.
"Well, yeah, I dunno…" – Granger's voice was still hesitant. "If I chose a place to feel safe and all, I would surely go somewhere more special."
"More special? Hermione, this is a rat-hole! The bike was cool, though…" – Weasley added to his judgement.
"If you like something like that."
"Nah, it was cool," – Potter chimed in. "Almost felt like flying."
"Yeah, I was good, admit it!" – It was easy to hear the grin even in the Weasley's voice.
"Sure," – Potter let him have it. "Snape would never let me drive it anyway…. What I don't understand is what Moody wants with Snape. She first sent Umbridge away. I don't know why she made us wait after that. She called Snape, but Sirius said she was all right, so I can't see a reason–"
"Come on, she obviously likes him," – Granger must have surprised both of the boys because she had to elaborate. "She invited him at Christmas, don't you remember? And she used to teach potions. So maybe they sometimes talk about it."
"What, cauldrons?" – Weasley cruelly snickered. "If this charm is all right, Sirius should have said something about it. Or about her. He obviously knows her more than Snape. And he doesn't trust Snape at all. Or do you remember something, Harry? Anything he said?"
"No, not really" – Potter's voice was hesitant. "But I don't think Sirius is a good source when it comes to Snape…."
"Why?" – Granger quickly asked.
"Erm… well…" – Potter seemed surprisingly hesitant from inside the tent. "Well, he just doesn't seem he is… that's all" – he finished lamely. "I would rather find out why Moody called him in the first place. She knows he hates me. She could have called anyone, why him?"
"Maybe… maybe…" – Granger was eager to give an answer as usual. "Maybe she wanted him to be there. She wanted him to be there at Christmas, Ginny told me, she heard her and Mrs. Weasley. She even argued with Sirius, and Mrs. Weasley said to him that–"
"That doesn't make sense at all," – Weasley deemed.
"Well, we need to figure it out," – said Potter. "Here's a plan, we find out why she called Snape, how to get back to Hogwarts, and if Voldemort was around in the fifties if these really are…."
Sage, who stared at Severus up until now at the other side of the canvas of the tent, gaping more and more by every minute, about this time finally hid her face in her palms and began to shake her head. Severus cast a Disaudio around them before he spoke.
"And these are Dumbledore's golden Gryffindors, who already faced the Dark Lord three times."
"He told me, I just… Severus, I would have never imagined they would be this prejudiced against you!"
Severus had to huff with disbelief.
"All brats are prejudiced little twerps at Hogwarts. Where have you been these months?"
"I thought you liked them… a little…."
"What?" – he could only stare. "They cheat, they lie, they steal from my storage, they crossed that line more times than I could care to count! You saw Potter just yesterday yourself, he–" – the sense of his humiliation subsided in these last few hours, not least because of her assistance, his anger still didn't let Severus finish the thought.
Sage put a hand on his chest, and he suddenly noticed he was almost panting. Her touch and his awakened rage were so much at odds he felt his sanity in danger, but she caressed him, and it was easier. He only had to choose his focus. Gods, she excited him in his fragile mood more easily than anytime before. However, the witch turned away sooner than he could decide what to do about her, and Severus watched with growing alarm as she walked around the magically enhanced space which shaped a kitchen, a small bedroom, an even smaller lavatory, and a well-stuck storage room with the simplest of furniture and piles of books scattered around on the floor.
"Cozy" – she assessed.
"Obviously not the luxury you are accustomed to…" – he couldn't help but to point out.
"Oh, please, the summer house is the work of generations, the rest is even older. I was only born to enjoy what others gathered."
"And to throw it away–" – Severus bit his tongue too late, and he could punch himself in vain now.
Sage hung her head with a sigh. "Yeah, obviously," – she cleared her forlornness away, cleared her mind in a blink, and looked around again. "I hate to intrude upon your privacy, but this won't be enough for five, and I doubt we should return already…."
To avert her attention from his faux pas, Severus readily lifted his wand and conjured four more chairs around the small table, which served to signal a living room, to be a kitchen table, and also workspace. Again, it felt oddly right to sense Sage's magic enhancing the space to accommodate the additions and making the room less stuffed.
They worked in companionable silence, adding another bed and two trunks to the bedroom, enhancing the space to squeeze in one more room with two additional beds, growing the kitchen and the bathroom to make them ready to serve the renewed needs, and adding a bookcase to dismiss the piling books from the floor.
"And where will you sleep?" – Sage eventually asked, looking around with surprising satisfaction.
Severus absently pulled a shoulder and conjured a bunk close to the entrance. It gained him an unusually affectionate glance from the witch to his astonishment.
"You know, you should think of your having a rest too, not only about our safety."
Her clairvoyance felt oddly good. It was better than he could have expressed it, so he tried to joke his emotions away.
"Is there anything else you would wish me to change for you, Beauxbaton?" – he stepped closer without intending it, her hand slipped into his with natural ease, but her reply left him breathless.
"The way of the world," – she chuckled, missing the impact of her words this time. "But as a first step, I would settle for lunch if you have something in mind. Then we can discuss what you need to finish training Potter while we figure out a way to return."
As much as Severus became speechless hearing her first wish, his mood changed instantly hearing the second part. The cold that suddenly sat in his stomach dismissed all other feelings.
"There's the flaw in your plan. Those lessons are finished."
She didn't seem to catch on to his meaning, or was she just desperate to convince him? "Severus, the boy's mind has no protection at all."
"More the pity. Why, one should have imagined I would care."
"I'm sure you do." – Sage was quick to reply. "And so does he. He was contrite, believe me, he–"
"Spare me!" – Severus tried to sidestep her, but the witch raised her hands in mock surrender.
"Oh, all right. So will you report to the Dark Lord that he was expelled, or shall I?" – she asked.
"It's more than enough to find a way so he would not get expelled. This trip is about the Pink, and not–"
"Oh, on the contrary!" – Sage's voice got harsher this time. "If you want to leave such a threat unattended, we'd better take him straight to the Dark Lord. The war might have an unlucky turn, but at least none of us would die of a teenage boy's hand–"
Severus found the most disturbing in her words the hint of truth they carried. He knew he shouldn't abandon a half-trained child. Still, he couldn't make himself agree to this madness for a second time.
"Don't be ridiculous!"
"Then don't be childish! He might–"
"Childish?!"
"Yes," – Sage didn't even seem to contemplate her words and his possible outrage. "The boy made a severe mistake. A disgusting one, I grant you, but–"
"Witch, I will tell you only this once. I need no apology, I need no lecture. I'm ready to change the world for you, but if you imagine just for a second that I would ever even look at that brat again, you're delusional! I will not kill him or offer him to the Dark Lord, but I will find a solution without him, as we should have done it already and years ago."
"Fine!" – the irrevocable dismissal was in her eyes and voice sooner than she could turn away, and Severus felt a sudden impulse to grab after her, to change both their words or do whatever madness he should before he lost her. Sadly nothing came to mind. He could not alter his decision or the way he felt, not even for Sage.
It was a horrible sucking force of a whirlpool that pulled him back into the darkness he knew only too well. He wished he was different. He wished he didn't need her understanding and just be enough, good enough, sane enough to accommodate all the wishes she listed, but that was impossible! Fuck those bloody wolves. He still wasn't ready for total surrender and devotion. That must be the case!
A rush of panic joined to his already evoked anger, then the conviction he just wasn't good enough. A dirt-poor miserable wreck, offering no more than conjured bunks and a godforsaken desert to a witch deserving the world, and he offered with his big mouth a chance for her to tell what she wished for only to deny her. Because she asked for the only thing, he just could not give.
The only thing? You liar! Self-loathing kicked in as if it came on schedule until Severus couldn't be more surprised hearing Sage's voice again:
"I guess I can understand it, but we shouldn't leave it at that. We all have our limits, and it's all right. I will teach him then. At least the Dark Lord's influence cannot be that strong here. I hope you'll help to figure out our return."
He could only stare.
Sage stepped out of the tent as if she hadn't just altered the foundations of the world – yet again – and Severus was left to regain some semblance of control. She would do it, so he didn't need to… the sense of debt was minute compared to the overall surprise.
He remembered wishing he could suspend his needs and feelings for another, and now for the first time, it occurred to him, his mother did just the same. He'd never thought he would ever understand her reasons…. Now Sage just said she didn't need his sacrifice. Was it that simple? It was matchlessly convenient compared to anything he'd experienced, and he choked on his confusion.
He looked about him, taking in the altered space they worked out together and swore to give her at least what he could. He couldn't change himself, but he would try to change the world. And by all means, he would cater her a lunch of whatever he had under stasis in his kitchen and in his stores.
It wasn't more than canned soup and beans, but it cheered up all of them beyond Severus' expectations. Especially Weasley, who couldn't stop asking and talking about the Black Shadow since they sat down to eat. His exuberance and open curiosity were at strange odds with the short assessments of Snape's trustworthiness Severus overheard just half an hour before.
"And why are we here? I mean, I know why we are here, but why here are–"
Hearing Sage's chuckle, Severus only rolled his eyes. He might have omitted the answer if the witch didn't eye him with the same curiosity.
"It was not my idea," – Severus hurried to point out. "I was looking for the last place one would expect me to show up."
Weasley laughed up short, and even Potter snorted, proving that he counted his chances right.
"So you joined the Muggles? Sir?" – Granger looked so taken aback it was almost laughable. Surely a big bad Death Eater hiding among Muggles must have been a picture she would never form in her mind…
Severus leaned forward a little to gain whatever enjoyment he could get from such a conversation, and with shameless smugness, he admitted:
"Yes, I think I did."
Watching the three brats' eyes rounding out was funnier than he anticipated, yet Severus could keep his control over his amusement. Unlike Sage, who couldn't stop chuckling for a long time.
Four excruciating days went by, trying to establish routine and order, as Severus saw it, and adjusting to the horror as he presumed the brats have felt.
It was the worst at meals. Even if – curiously – it seemed that Potter hadn't shared his findings of his dive into the Pensive with his friends, the kids seemingly couldn't stop discussing the nice golden era of Black and Lupin roaming the school with their friends, or house elf rights, the horror of Slytherin even existing – especially Draco –, and of course the Toad, who inadvertently gifted them all with this miraculous escapade.
The whining for diversions like Exploding Snap or Wizarding chess counted even to the less horrible choices of their re-incurring subjects, and them praising Dumbledore and his all-deciding "trust" was only a minor nuisance in the flow of outrage Snape had to tame inside him, not to erupt with an unseemly roar. For days, Severus hid within his Snape persona and in his swirling magic. He took his efforts to a level where no one even approached him, and with the rare exception of saying a word or two to Sage when he couldn't escape it, he was silent and menacing like an open grave.
Thus he managed to keep to himself. In his opinion, he managed for a long time. Breakfasts, lunches and dinners – those must have counted as some achievement after all… Then at one lunch, they began to talk about Black and the sadness about him, how lonely he seemed, and how misunderstood he was around Christmas, and it all felt as if his brain began to boil.
The last straw was Granger's cheerful voice suggesting Sage visit more at Grimmauld because the sod seemed to her as if he liked Professor Moody's company!
"Oh, I'm sure he can cope," – she answered with a smile. A smile! Of all possible ways to close such an issue, she smiled. And that finally undid him.
"Sure. Give him a chance and take him to a petting zoo! He would enjoy the diversion! Or you could invite him to Hogsmeade. A nice butterbeer you could have waiting for him, and, if he's lucky enough, the Ministry will take him before little Pete would get his prize…" – he could have gone on and on. But, honestly, it was a nice outlet for his raging dissatisfaction and anger. However, all the three brats had to scream their judgement on his heartless notions.
"Why, I wouldn't have thought you wished him to get lucky," – Sage tried to hide her amusement behind a water glass in vain, and her tease was far worse than the trio's opinionated ramblings.
"What I wish upon him, and what I do not, has little to do with the facts," – he somberly replied. "But believe me, it isn't even sure any of them would get him if he resorted to his old tricks. You still wouldn't see him."
"Do you mean he would hide in his dog-form?" – Potter asked. Snape acted as if he didn't hear him by habit in these last few days, but Weasley repeated the question, and Sage seemed curious too. Time to get this straight as long as he had a chance…
"I mean, it's not a coincidence he knows the villages within a day's walk to Hogsmeade so thoroughly. There must be no girl between the age of twenty-five and thirty-five he and his besties didn't get to know. 'It's easy with the muggles',"- he recited with distaste. "I should need a knut for every time I'd heard that.
"You slice a bag open with a cutting spell from a distance and offer your gentle help for them to gather their things… Wingardium Leviosa is the first spell a student learns and already enough to lift a pretty skirt. A wonder not all of them turned into hares when playing with animagic if you catch my meaning, and the Hogsmeade weekends hadn't been this short back in the time."
"Wicked!" – Weasley deemed with a wide grin, while Granger was quick to air her contrary sentiments. Severus only had eyes for Sage. The witch searched his face deep in thought. He wondered what could have been on her mind. Surely, she wouldn't accuse him of jealousy again.
"Well, those were the seventies, weren't they? We all did our best to spread the good vibes, did we not?" – the witch challenged him, not short enough of flirting not to make his blood have a quick wild run in secret. Severus swallowed and kept his calm as much as he could.
"Some did," – he agreed. "Whether the Dementors notified their captives about walking around barefoot and with sunglasses glued on your forehead went out of fashion or not, is yet remains to be seen."
It felt good that she chuckled. Finally, this wasn't about Black.
"You're still into collecting flowers from the wild, so who knows?" – he added. "Maybe some have sense enough to distinguish between vibes and vibes."
She looked at him somberly, and it suddenly became hard not to get lost in her gaze. She didn't Occlude.
"Maybe some do," – she offered softly, and he felt the chills running up his spine.
Then she laughed it off. Severus suspected it was for the kids' benefit, who now listened with surprised incomprehension.
"Anyway, a well-trained witch always had the means to keep her skirt at place if she wanted to," – Sage added, pulling a shoulder, "so your story's moral must be only that we need to defend the Muggles."
Feeling the danger of staying too long in her company Severus stood up, ready to leave.
"I leave the moral for you," – he told her, and without a second glance at the brats, he walked through the small clearing to his workbench to have some progress with the ancient engine from Vincent's truck.
That was the first night it happened. Her glances filled him, her subtle flirting throughout the day whenever they had a shared second passing each other in the tent or gazing in her direction from the workbench. Too many little things and nothing at all.
Severus couldn't sleep.
And he heard from the direction of the "girls' bedroom" that she was also awake. He shouldn't do a thing about it. Three kids were sleeping in his tent, none of them he trusted, and by no means would he step closer to a door where an underage witch slept too… Severus turned his head in the other direction and tried to convince himself to close his eyes.
He heard her turning. He was sure about it. Her rustling of the sheets sounded different from any others, and her usual soft noises didn't fill the air. She was awake too, and he thought she sighed.
She turned again.
The air somehow seemed heavier and warmer. It was hard to breathe evenly. There's nothing wrong with the air, Severus silently cursed. He contemplated emptying his mind, but it was far too late for that. The problem was physical and undeniable. When he heard a silent groan, Severus catapulted himself out of the tent and took a nice long walk in the night before he dared to return. By then, she was asleep.
This was the overture for a series of new tortures. Glances by daylight, sighs, soft noises, and long walks at night. When she absently touched his back once in the morning, putting on the kettle in the kitchen, he'd almost lost his mind. He noticed that Sage began to avoid his close proximity as much as he avoided hers. Although she didn't seem to help to glance at him, and those times their glances met, she never occluded. Severus knew an invitation when he saw one, and he dared not to accept it. He began to think that the witch astronomically overestimated his capacity of restraint.
After few days, Severus decided he needed to engage his energies. While returning to Vincent to take an unnecessary look at his trunk, he found himself asking the old Muggle for additional work. Sadly, it soon turned out he didn't only need that for distraction.
After weeks of witnessing Sage's fruitless struggles with Potter, the gloating lost appeal. Filling-up and re-filling the reserves he originally made for one, now for the benefit of five, buying the brats wardrobes after the fiftieth transfiguration wore off of their robes, acquiring bedsheets, rugs, books, a chessboard, and whatever became necessary until his savings almost depleted… he finally admitted imminent defeat.
The place he made to be his safe haven now was the home of all his personal devils: poverty, dissatisfaction, and a crushing lack of choice or a way out.
Frustration.
Potter.
Damnable, dimwitted Potter. The cause of it all. Fucking nuisance and vengeance for his sins. The bloody sword of Damocles, avenging his mother with his very presence and carrying the disdain of his father with every glance. A prattling idiot and a chowhound as his sidekicks only rounded up the picture. Never satisfied, never occupied, never in quiet. Any of them.
He admired Sage for putting up with them, and he fled her. He fled them all with increasing guilt for leaving her alone. The guilt compelled him first to find more and more work, to justify his absence. Vincent had never been more satisfied with his gadgets and machines. Then it became a necessity.
Vincent was a priceless help to advertise his skills to the local Muggles, even to some travellers in need, so he didn't have to work by the day. Within weeks, Severus was more familiar with the local Muggle community than Cokeworth in his last fifteen years. Not only familiar, almost friendly. One of them told him he did an awesome job, one other waxed on about he'd done something great, and he also once heard the word bravo, although he still doubted it was meant about his work, even hours later.
Cultural shock aside, it was impossible not to enjoy the praise, even for something as banal as a working fridge or a tractor. When he had no clue, he used magic and looked up the problem in the evenings back in the camp. He usually had an ordinary solution by the time his spells wore off. Otherwise, he'd always enjoyed using his hands. Coming from a place where "not that awful as it could be" was the height of approval, these words sounded ridiculous but also too good to give up on them.
He had to wonder if his father had heard anything like that in his entire life. Would that have made a difference? Could there have been anything at all for him to make him different? Better? Thoughtful at all? Then it hit him. He already knew he couldn't change everything about himself. He couldn't conquer his anger and unease, not even for Sage, so she took up with the brats. Was he any better than his father?
One thought like that could destroy a day-worth of morsels of hard-earned cheer. Those times he didn't say a word to anyone, ate his dinner without looking up and disappeared with a book until the kids fell asleep. And the guilt grew to measures he hardly dared to show face to Sage anymore.
So he didn't.
Instead, he left before dawn and only returned late in the evenings. As if she sensed his intention to avoid her, of course, the witch had to make her presence known! The first time he found some toasts and coffee laid out an hour before dawn, Severus thought of Chubby and shook his head over the impossibility of it all…
He knew it was Sage when it happened for the second time, even through his sleepy daze. It re-enforced his guilt so much he had to talk himself into returning at all. That day, late at night, the brats were asleep, and the witch was reading one of his books by the table. She didn't say a word, just greeted him with a smile, and Severus found his dinner under a stasis charm at the exact same spot he had left his breakfast. He wanted to smash it all on the fluttering wall of the tent! He wanted to throw it so much, only thinking about the shame of her actually knowing he did it could stop his hand.
Severus hurried out of the tent without even glancing at the witch, not to do or say anything he knew he would regret. He crossed the small clearing to his bench, but he felt like a beast in a trap between the two spots he used… one look towards his bike, and he was on the way.
An hour was enough. Strangely.
Can one measure freedom by the hour? He would have driven out of the known world, but he missed her. Which was unexpected, like a leash tightening. Disturbing.
Severus pulled over and left the road behind far enough to lay back and watch the stars. He had imagined thousand times his father leaving them. He'd known such things happened and wondered why not with him. Tobias Snape had obviously hated his family. What other reason could he have had to beat, shout, and drink the money they'd lived off?
Now he knew.
Sage's kindness angered him beyond reason, and this anger was forceful. He wanted to smash that plate, but he would have– Gods, he even had a fleeting thought about hurling it at her! This was not him. This was not anything he would ever do, then why? Because her kindness was humiliating, not by intention, but by effect. Mostly because he felt he didn't deserve it.
It was his fault. Or Potter's. It was good he came far enough because, at this point, he might have hurt the kid. It was because of the Sundays.
Sundays the Muggles didn't want to work, they respected religious traditions Severus hazily recalled from his childhood, and it seemed they expected the same from the neat-handed tramp in their neighbourhood. Every Sunday reinforced his firm belief that there was no way he could suffer Potter's presence. Truth be told, suffering his moronic sidekicks didn't turn out to be less torturous either.
In Potter's practice with Sage, Severus couldn't see a modicum of progress, and all through the days, he had to worry about Granger, who must have decided to swot through all his books. On the second day after they had arrived, Severus already placed security charms on the darker tomes, but sometimes he had a dark feeling about something was just not right with that bookcase.
Meanwhile, Weasley had thoughts… thoughts about his camp, his bike, his workbench and some of his tools… his décor, the food he provided, the lack of chess or cards, and by some unexplainable reason, about garden gnomes – all shared indirectly.
Because directly, he would never have addressed the "greasy git" of the dungeons!
Last Sunday came to mind. Only two days ago, he put in a conscientious effort to be normal. To seem more patient than he felt. To avoid looking at the witch so he wouldn't need to walk about till she would fall asleep that night…. Leaving the chore to teach Potter to Sage, he had not much to do about the camp, which meant way too much time for thinking. One more thing he presumed would have been better to avoid.
The kids were chatting about their location again. They marvelled at the unlikeliness of his choice.
"I still don't get it," – Weasley said for about the twentieth time. At least it felt as much, and Severus was losing patience. "Nothing around just some feeble trees, big plain nothing under the hill and Muggles everywhere."
"Your assessment is as correct as usual," – Severus grimaced and tried to dispense with the usual disrespect his betters would never have tolerated from him at Weasley's age. "The big plain nothing, as you put it, is not as plain as only the cactuses you see, Mr. Weasley. What you do not see are the farms planting various fruits, vegetables and hay, or the mining facilities – people work hard for their living here, just like in other Muggle areas. The copper they exploit travel far–" – he was surprised by Sage jerking her head enough to go silent.
"Copper?" – She seemed excited to hear about the mines. "Is this then the land of the Alchemical Venus?" – she chuckled, turning away from Potter, who seemed to need some time to recover from their practice anyway. "Astonishing!"
Granger eagerly asked what that might have meant, and while Severus had serious reservations about teaching a fifth-year about Alchemy, Sage obviously didn't share in his qualms.
"Why, the Alchemical Venus is copper as an element. Described as a channel for energy, a conductor between spiritual and material, enhancing the thought processes, accelerating healing in the body by improving blood circulation, purifying, detoxicating, and in the soul by increasing self-esteem, lightening the mental burdens, and supporting independence. All coming from the positive side of femininity, the goddess of love. Mr. Potter is lucky indeed to come here to train."
"All these things are in the copper? Independence and love?" – Weasley was close to snicker openly. He probably only felt too closely seated to the Potions Master not to do so. "Charlie told me that Alchemy is the oddest of things!"
"Because your brother has the utmost need of it among the beasts, of course" – Severus grumbled with a sigh. "He still learned that he would need a copper cauldron if he attempted an advanced level healing potion, which you are yet to sufficiently prove about yourself, Mr. Weasley. Unfortunately, the reasons behind practicalities often get lost on the posterity."
"But why Venus?" – Granger rather looked at Sage than at her potions Professor, obviously hoping for better chances in getting a straight answer about such advanced fields of study. "If it's all about healing, why is it linked to the goddess of love?"
"Because, in Alchemical love, we are not talking about mundane emotions. Love is like energy. It has its own power like sunshine, or magic, or wind. You name the aspect of the world. Loving, in this true form, is transmitting this energy so it may transform both sides in the exchange if they so choose, freely," – she glanced at Severus, but at the moment, he couldn't form any reaction. Of course, her words were familiar, but they hit him for the first time as personal and not theoretic.
Granger shook her head. "I… I don't understand. You are talking about different things here. Alchemical love is energy, all right. And it can be transmitted, like- like electricity?"
Sage nodded with a smile. "More or less, Miss Granger."
"But what transforms? Transforming is changing, right? So why would anyone wish change for love?"
"Not for love, Miss Granger, by love. And by free choice." She still watched Severus, which made him uncomfortable. This discussion would have been easier to handle without self-loathing and guilt, but he was in no position to experience that. "I would never imagine love without freedom. And sometimes transforming is healing," – she went on. "Who other would want you to heal as much as someone who loves?"
To escape her gaze, Severus looked around the faces. None of them seemed to recognize the message in her words, such as his sudden rush of self-reproach remained concealed. Not less-felt, though. It was easier to focus on others. Granger seemed to sink into contemplations, Potter's thoughts – if he had any – were far away, and Weasley kept shaking his head.
"It doesn't seem to help much to Harry," – the boy finally spoke up, looking at his friend. "I heard what you told him. That he should call up the feeling he already knows from times he managed to protect some of his memories."
He looked at Sage so accusingly, Severus felt a sudden itch to hex him, but the witch showed merely curiosity turning towards the redhead.
"Is there a problem you find with that approach, Mr. Weasley?" – she asked.
"Well, yes… Yes, I do," – the boy seemed to be surprised by sharing his thoughts so openly, but soon he found his voice. "Because it's just bullshit!"
"Mr. Weasley, I advise you to–" – Severus began without missing a beat, but Sage put a hand on his arm with an apologetic smile.
"Please," – she stopped him, and turned back to the kid. "Why would you find my advice such nonsense, Mr. Weasley? Perhaps you can explain why Mr. Potter is struggling so much following instructions."
Weasley only hesitated for a few moments, "Obviously, because it can't be done," – he shrugged. "How could he make himself feel something he doesn't? That's as impossible as to stop feeling anything at all! That's the other issue. It's just sick – to stop thinking and feeling all those things you do!"
Severus was ready to berate the child, but Sage's snorted chuckle stopped him. Granger, of course, hurried to aid her unjustly ridiculed friend, making her potions Professor outright rolling his eyes.
"Ron has a good point, you know," – she warned Professor Moody. "What else is a person, if not his feelings, thoughts and memories? If you're not allowed to have them, what makes you… well, you?"
Weasley was obviously happy with her standing up for him, and he straightened his shoulders. "Right, what?" – he challenged.
"Let's just hope Miss Granger, that some of us are more than a happenstance turbulence of raging emotions and entangled thoughts," – Snape couldn't hold back answering any longer. He couldn't fathom how Sage could be ready to find amusement in this idiocy. She seemed she did, but he also began to notice her weariness and had to wonder if these discussions took up most of her time whenever he was elsewhere.
"The whole point of this exercise is to keep those emotions, thoughts and memories to ourselves. Not sharing, or betraying them," – Sage said. "Especially if you value these reflections of your deep, inner self so much, you should convince your friend to hide them. Instead, he should focus on different aspects of his personality, choose different memories and feelings. Surely, you cannot wish me to believe Mr. Potter or any of you is so one dimensional that can only have others perceive you always the same…."
"Isn't that the way of an open personality? One who is knowing oneself, like you keep telling him he should?" – Granger couldn't give up.
"Knowing is not sharing, Miss Granger," – Sage warned, and Severus couldn't agree more, albeit his hopes for a swot, like he knew the girl to be, understanding such a thing was far from anything he could imagine.
"But–" – the little witch gaped at the older as if she sought to reinforce Snape's prejudices. Weasley came to her help.
"Whatever you twist it, it's insane. No wonder Harry cannot do it. Look, he must have those headaches again. You push him too hard. There's no way anyone can do it!"
Sage glanced at Potter, and Severus could clearly see the pity in her eyes. Maybe some guilt too. He couldn't stand to watch it.
"You shouldn't measure the possible by your feeble understanding. The witch you dare to tell off so outrageously, knows very well what she demands."
"Please," – Sage asked him again to leave it with a slight shake of her head, and Severus stood from their circle to find something else to occupy his time before he outed her achievements or just strangled the kids.
She looked tired and lonely as he looked back at her, and she refused his help in what she undertook so he didn't have to struggle with it. Guilt. Severus caught himself wanting to shout and curse them all. And he relived his frustrated ire under the stars.
He wanted to hurt them, for they hurt her, but the strangest of all – Severus realized he almost felt the same outraged against Sage for letting it all happen!
She should have put a stop to all their senseless challenges and disputes… She should have called him on his horrible behaviour. She should have been different and not suffering patiently like… like Eileen?
No, he just would not go there! – a flicker of sanity stopped his thoughts in their tracks. This was not his doing. He didn't hurt like his father, not yet.
Severus jumped and fled back to the road. Not yet was the essential wording; he should get away before he would hurt her. He rode his bike like a savage, using the Black Shadow's rare build to his maximum advantage. The first-ever motorbike to manage cross-country. It was much better than thinking.
Turning up on the main road like the devil, taking the ill-famed hairpin bends with speed only for the crazed, he almost wished for a second of bad judgement. A spot of oil, a sudden strike of temporary blindness, and Providence would prove he had no place on the face of Earth. He only could prove that he was unworthy of such extorted attention of Fate.
Severus never later had the faintest idea where his rush would have ended if the small sign hadn't lighted up, reporting the lack of fuel. So as it happened, his heroic flight was cut short when, with an acerbic grimace, he acknowledged the rotten sense of humour of life and stopped at Vincent's Gas and Store.
He wasn't in the mood for chatting at all, but the old Muggle didn't seem to notice his scowl. Instead, Vincent behaved like always when they met, shared some gossip about the comings and goings of the local folks with unfailing friendliness until the tank filled up.
"You're rarely seen this time of the day," – he noticed then, walking by Severus towards to shop. Is there maybe some storm in Paradise? I heard that a strange chit is living up in your camp now. Todd told me he's seen her shopping in Kingston some days back."
In momentary confusion and slight embarrassment, Severus could only stare.
"Oh, come on, no one's blaming you, Sev. Things happen–"
"What?" – Severus interrupted quickly, "I didn't hurt her!" – he even lifted both palms stepping back as if proving he did not.
"I've never said you did, Sev," – Vince cleared it up. "I wouldn't think you're the kind. Actually, the contrary. I've been rather worried about you when I saw you leaving with some of those wilder guys… but here you are just fine, aren't you?"
Severus absently shook his head, indicating his lack of understanding, but the gesture told something completely different to Vincent. He stopped his younger friend at the shop door.
"Listen, Sev, I know you… how long? Some years since you're in and out of here like the wind goes, are you? Since you've first appeared so clueless, I had to think about what kind of hell-hole must have pushed you to life. But you've never been a violent man. Not even a blusterer, those I cannot stand anyway. You mind your own business, and that's just fine here with all of us, but now you make me wonder…." – He opened up the shop door wide and almost pulled his friend through it, having an idea.
Inside, he reached for a six-pack and offered a can for Severus. "Come, have a beer, let's talk!"
He knew by experience how much a drink would ease his guilt and soften the darkness he felt around him, but unfortunately, also that booze could silence his troubles for so long…. Was this the reason Tobias kept drinking? It felt tempting, indeed! To feel a modicum better… did his father also want to lose the brute he must have known himself to be?
"I'm not…" – he glanced up at Vincent and felt a rare detachment from their circumstances, or in fact, the reality at all. "I'm not yet like him… I- I will not…."
Vincent put down the can.
"Not like who, Sev?"
He stepped closer, and Severus shook his head again. This man should be more careful, have the Muggles no sense to avoid him? They are defenceless… Vince's hand stopped before it reached his arm.
"Who hurt you?" – the older man asked by intuition.
It felt similar to those crazy rushes of panic when the air became heavy and hot, and the walls of the dungeons kept coming down on him. Now the night became so suddenly still, alarmingly still, before it all began collapsing on him, the darkness, the cold, the starlight from outside and the mixed smells of the shop… Severus closed his eyes, attempting to close it all out, never noticing his hands began to tremble.
"I'm not like my father, I'm not like him… I came away. I came as far as I could, and I- I won't hurt another any more…. I've never meant to…" – he peeked up at Vincent, but by some reason, the old Muggle didn't seem repulsed.
"Come here," – he suddenly said, and instead of laughing at his weakness, he pulled the younger man into a distanced hug, holding only onto his arms, but that firmly. Severus had never felt this confused and embarrassed in his adulthood. It still mixed with some strange sense of hope… for something. Or tentative trust in… maybe acceptance? Why would he find that here? It was silly, but Vince kept pulling his arms.
"Come now, the hell with it," – the older man grumbled, - "devil knows it, as much as I'd wandered, you could also be my son anyway…."
Severus had no idea how to react, especially not that horrible, confusing night, so he just let him. Motionless. With disbelief. With a strange, rare kind of hope that it all won't turn bad somehow because old Vince wouldn't allow that. The whole mix of feelings was alien to him, and he waited for his breath to even out before he made a fool of himself.
"It's not like the war at all, is it?" – Vincent went on, now only grabbing his shoulder. It was still foreign but more comfortable. "Neither goes away, but these things hurt differently, don't they?"
Severus sought out the Muggles eyes with his questioning glance.
"Whatever your old man did, I want you to know that you were not at fault," – Vince said as an explanation, and it was more confusing than anything else he could have said.
"What?"
"You were not at fault," – Vincent repeated. "Whatever your father did, it was him, not you. You've got nothing to do with it, and you're not responsible for any of it, do you understand?!"
Severus could only swallow. He wished he could nod and wipe it all away with a wave of his hand, but somehow whatever he concealed from the world he lived in, it was not hidden from a Muggle, who had no idea about anything at all…and easy to Obliviate if ever it felt necessary. A dam felt to break, and all those thoughts and wordless emotions flooded through, demanded him speak.
"I wasn't enough… Had I'd been enough, more like him… useful…" – he struggled for every word. "I am nothing that he could have to aid him… I'm– Because I'm…." The truth was hard to circumnavigate for the sake of Vincent, whom he learned to like very much along the "years", may escape losing his memories.
"You were just a boy, were you not?" – The older man still stared into his eyes with wisdom and friendliness.
"I couldn't save her! I should have helped him so he wouldn't… and I couldn't save her from him! Then later I couldn't save Lily either, they both got in trouble because I wasn't good enough and then… He knew it damn well! I wasn't good enough!" – he suddenly shouted. "He knew it, he told it, he wanted to fight it because I just don't deserve more! He knew I was useless for him, and thus for them all because I'm–" – he searched for the right word, suddenly realising it wasn't magic as he thought it would be. It felt oddly important. Not weak, not clumsy, not dumb… "I'm different."
Magic made him useless for Tobias because that meant an entire world for him, which his father could never live or rule. So magic was an escape, but also the cause. But it wasn't the sole reason, he proved himself odd enough even in the magical word! Shouldn't have he have loved magic at all? Or only love it less? Take it as a tool like others did, and be content using it instead of trying to understand, to develop, to live it? But he loved to love magic! It felt much better to love magic than to love them, any of them!
Vincent searched his eyes until the thought ran its route through his mind.
"Different? Is that all? Yes, Sev, you are different. The blind can see. And I praise the Lord for that because this is the way I like you."
Severus stared at him with shock and disbelief.
"As I say," – Vincent nodded. "Did he hurt others too? That's his sin, and his business, and not yours. Mind my words, son, you may not be a boy anymore, but once you were, and that was a time he should be blamed for. Not you. You were only responsible for being a boy. And now you're a man like he could never be to accept the boy you have been."
"What? But how? How could I–"
"You're the only one who can. So you won't fail – you. Whatever you've been told, Sev, and believe me, I heard enough rubbish to imagine… you're the only one that matter. You are the one who decided you will not hurt. You'd even flee and leave a woman to prove it, but it won't do, I tell you that!
"He gave up the right to judge you when he failed you and whoever else he hurt. So now it's your turn. You should never fail you. So you won't ever fail anyone else then, not even if you try."
The base of his nose was suspiciously stinging, and Severus fought hard against some stubborn tears to keep them to himself no matter how much they wanted to fall.
"I wanted to love them, Vince," – he confessed. "I wanted to, but they never needed it. Not any of them…."
"What about that girly who was daring enough to move up to your place?" – Vince asked back with a badly hidden smile.
Severus hung his head.
"I should have never left her alone."
The old Muggle patted his shoulder.
"Tell her," – he suggested. It felt impossible, and the best advice at the same time, given with all deserving confidence. "Tell her!" – Vince repeated before he stepped behind the cashier. "So the gas you bought–"
As if waking from a dream, Severus paid for the gas and said goodbye as if nothing had happened. Vincent knew his way around people. He'd served them long enough to know when to step back. It was reassuring.
When he stepped out from the shop, the stars shone above the road. It was clear, just like the sky. The night was chilly but not biting, and his bike reflected the various lights from the shop's window. He stared at it all and didn't feel a thing. No guilt, no remorse, no pain.
It then occurred to him that maybe he'd found a girl in his youth similar to his parents. At least in the aspect of she had never needed his love either. Just like probably neither Eileen nor Tobias would have chosen him if they'd been offered a choice.
Oddly he remembered the kids discussing his safe place on the day they'd arrived.
"But why Snape?" – Potter had asked. "She could have called anyone. So why did she call him?" "Well, I guess she wanted him to be there," – that was Granger's reply.
She did want him to be there. She kept choosing him regardless of his momentary use or mood, or… she kept just choosing him. And finally, Severus couldn't care less why.
The bike turned on the road smoothly, and it rolled with its soothing song vibrating under his tights through the night. It was freedom. It was the very essence of it since he drove with a sense of being awaited.
*oh, it was sooo very hard to type "Not in Hogwarts anymore" instead of "Not in Kansas anymore" – a short pause of respect before I go on. 3