Due to popular request I'm reposting the old version of this fic for your enjoyment. I'll start posting a new version/complete rewrite late 2022.

Chapter 3: Samhain and Wormwood Regret

The air had been growing increasingly saturated with magic. The smell of baking pumpkin had pervaded the entire castle before breakfast even began. By lunch, the excitement and acknowledgement of Samhain by four hundred magical humans and over fifty house elves had heightened the castle's sentience so that it was impossible to navigate the moving staircases. The suits of armour were marching patrols and Argus Filch was complaining that three portraits had entirely gone missing.

All classes after lunch were thankfully cancelled, so Severus took the time to perform a few quick Samhain rites and meditate to tame the wild magic coursing through him.

Potter'd had a package delivered to Severus' desk, containing a note thanking him for the individual attention Severus had been giving him. Under the envelope was a candle shaped like a lily, lying on a bed of dry leaves. A coincidence, Severus assured himself, adding the candle to his Samhain shrine. Potter was merely offering a Samhain gift to his Head of House.

But when he lit the candle, he realised it was scented, and it took the potions master seconds to identify the scent of butterfly weed. Unfortunately, Severus could not ignore the message that burned in his nostrils stronger than the brandy he would be having later ever could.

Butterfly weed, lily, dry leaves-Potter had understood Severus' veiled message of regret in that first lesson, and now he had responded in kind. The leaves represented sadness, the butterfly weed meant 'let me go.' It was almost absolution, was it not? To be told to let go of his grief and guilt over Lily's death, from her son himself?

This Samhain, he decided, he would finally commune with Lily's spirit. Perhaps she would agree with her son's blessing for Severus to continue his life without her shadow looming over him.

As much as Severus wanted to hate Potter, hate him for understanding those bitter regrets, hate him for acknowledging the lingering pain,this gift was nevertheless thoughtful, generous and kind.

Severus dipped a finger in the hot wax and relished the burn.

Too soon it was time to attend what should be the Samhain celebration but was instead dubbed the Halloween feast. While it was true a fifth of their population was Muggleborn it seemed counterintuitive to change their culture to better suit the immigrants.

Albus and the Ministry were right to pander to the Muggleborn, so that these children prone to accidental magic remained safely out of the Muggle world. Their Muggle parents would probably pull their children from Hogwarts if they received letters about Samhain rituals, Beltane fires, Midsummer festivals or Yule celebrations. Yes, it was safer to call them Halloween and Christmas, but it was also deeply offensive to a great number of the magically raised.

Severus was turning down the third offer of You simply must try this excellent lemon tart, Severus, when the incompetent Quirrel burst into the room screaming about a troll before having the indignity to faint. Severus levitated the man away, while Albus proved his senility by sending the entire student population into the halls they knew a dangerous creature prowled in.

As Albus ran off with Minerva and co., Severus grabbed Poppy's and Pomona's sleeves. He spelled the doors shut, casting Sonorus. "Return to your seats. Competent seventh years will stand guard by the doors. Not you, McKenzie." Somebody laughed with a touch of hysteria. The entire school watched as the Gryffindor slunk back to his seat. "Fifth and Sixth year prefects, identify who is missing from the feast and bring a list up front. Remain quiet. Do not touch the doors. Do not stand if you do not need to."

Accustomed as they were to following his instructions under pain of something blowing up in their faces, the Hall settled to scraping benches and quiet murmurs.

"Pomona," Poppy had efficiently switched to cool collected command. "I need you to see to the first years, I will arrange calming draughts and have the elves lace some hot drinks. Severus, go see to Quirinus please."

Amenable to handing over the reigns to their nurse's competence he stalked over to check on Quirrell. There was only so much his own heavy-handed tactics could accomplish, and forced calm was markedly different from the real thing.

-Quirrel was gone.

This was a ruse. Quirrell was going after the stone, because he was an idiot and thought setting a troll on schoolchildren was a good idea for a diversion. The rest of the staff was chasing the troll and most students were safe. Severus, then, had to protect Flamel's stone.

He sincerely hoped the other students were all safely elsewhere, because his running was entirely undignified. He was panting by the time he reached the third floor. The loaded Smahain magic several hours before midnight was tangible and in no way helping to calm his stuttering pulse.

Severus almost blasted the door open-removing the elaborate locking charms with brute magical force-and ran into the first chamber.

There was a Cerberus, and it was going to eat him. His last words would be, "Albus!" yelled in frustration because this was a school, not a Gringotts vault, and that door had not been adequately child-proofed.

Luckily Severus was good with a wand, and Cerberi are not as smart as they are vicious-which was why he escaped the room with only a barely chewed leg. More of a playful warning snap, on the scale of a massive three headed dog.

The last time Severus had been bitten by a dog he had been eight. While waiting in front of the liquor store for his mother he'd seen this elegant Shepherd dog tied to a fence. Severus had approached to pet it, and promptly received a bite on his jaw for the trouble. Barely a warning snap, it had not bled.

The Cerberus' version was slightly more dangerous, but the main problem would stem from the magical properties of its saliva preventing healing spells from working. A Ferula bandaged the leg tightly for the time being-he had to find out where Quirrell had gone next, and what had happened with the blasted troll.

The Samhain magic remained heavy in the air, intoxicating in his veins. Severus just wanted to burn offerings and listen to the spirits traversing the Veil. Every magical had a holiday which influenced them strongly and for Severus it was the day of the dead.

It turned out the troll had not been in the dungeons. It had also not been alive by the time the other Professors had found it.

"Is this the result of Dark Magic, Severus?" Albus asked quietly.

Quirrell was slumped against a wall, once again apparently fainted, which made one less person Severus needed to track down. The troll was bleeding out onto the stone corridor, decapitated. Disgustingly, some of it was dripping down one of the moving staircases-the house elves would be cleaning for hours.

They were all idiots. "This was obviously done by a cursed blade."

Troll blood could not be vanished. Somebody would be wearing the evidence on their robes; it had probably been a Gyffindor. "The students will have a list of everyone not at the feast."

"I sent them to their common rooms. They will not know anything of use." Albus said.

"On the contrary," Severus rebutted. "I locked the Great Hall and instructed them to wait quietly for our return. Give me the lists of missing students, and I will find our troll killer. And now, I will return to my rooms and practice the Samhain rights before the magic suffocates me.

Albus nodded, so Severus left.

After cleaning and rebandaging his wound as best he could, Severus relit Potter's candle and meditated on the dead. When he came out of his trance the next morning he felt more at peace than he could ever remember feeling in his life.

The weight of his guilt over Lily's death had vanished.

xoxox

His leg was now infected. Severus had made it worse with the bandaging spell; what he really needed was the antivenin. He could ask Albus or Hagrid or go to St Mungos, but all three would ask questions and cause him their own variety of grief.

But Argus Filch could at least help him clean it with muggle supplies, and he would keep quiet. Especially as Severus was the one who provided him with the balm to help with his arthritis.

As expected, the staff room was empty. Argus Muggle bandages and salves would have to do the trick. Severus had just counter-charmed the Ferula when there was a knock on the door.

Argus returned from answering it carrying a familiar shoe box. "There wasn't nobody there, 'cept some'un left this. There's vials in it, not dungbombs or anythin' I c'n reca'nise. Will ye take a look after we fix up yer leg?"

Severus extended his arms to take the box, grimacing as the movement jostled his faintly oozing wound.

Potter would not send a prank in a container Severus would recognise, and the boy's brewing was excellent. Perhaps the vials were something for the infirmary-a blood replenisher would be helpful right now. But why leave it on the floor before the staff room? It made little sense.

-until he saw the vials. There was blood replenisher, Cerberus antivenin, Muggle wound cleansers and topical sedatives, zink salves, gauze and muslin bandages.

"It ain't cursed?" Argus rightfully had little faith in students.

Severus shook his head. "Potter is not so stupid." He nonetheless sniffed the blood replenisher before downing it.

How had Potter known he had been bitten by the Cerberus? Or rather, known several days before that he would be bitten, as the simmer time of the antivenin was thirty-two hours? Severus really needed to do something about the boy, before he started turning the school on its head out of boredom.

But right now, Severus was just glad to be able to heal his aching leg.

xoxox

"Here are the lists of students that were not present at the Halloween feast," Minerva was saying. Over half of them were his Slytherins, but that was to be expected. Dark Wizards often felt a strong resonance with Samhain, and the Pureblood youngsters were usually especially pious during the first half of the school year. There were also a dozen Ravenclaws, six Hufflepuffs and four Gryffindors-almost fifty suspects.

Severus began with the strongest, summoning the upper years for an exhausting round of interviews.

The list of students whittled down fast: grew nauseous at the sight of blood, been busy fraternising, was obviously breaking into the greenhouses and now needed a salve for a bite from the hybrid Venomous Tentacula. Many had lost track of time in the school library, yet others had been following the Samhain rites. Two more had been engaged in activities leaving them in need of a contraceptive potion.

Only three didn't have alibis save the Gods and the dead, but a gentle Legilimency scan showed them to be honest.

Severu was infinitely glad his leg was not hurting him, because these students already had him on the end of his tether.

The next round of interviews focused on the younger students: the Weasley twins in Gryffindor had been honouring their Prewett namesakes, a Hufflepuff had been too stupid to remember to attend the feast, ten more students who had been practicing Samhain rites, and a final student was revealed to have snuck off Hogwarts grounds by an alert from the wards. Severus assigned a detention to the girl, for getting caught.

The first and second years were harmless-except perhaps Potter who knew too much, also claiming to have been communing with the dead.

Severus hated the students, why had he offered to solve this again? The staff had pinned their hopes on him, but the clues seemed hopeless. Was he supposed to Legilimise them all? Severus was not Albus, and these children should be innocent until proven guilty.

Perhaps his childhood would have been better if the people around him had given him a chance first, he couldn't help but think bitterly. Albus could go choke on a taffy.

The breakthrough came when Mipsy the head laundry elf finally had something to report: troll blood on the Weasley twins' robes. Those two probably thought it was funny, to kill a troll and pretend to have been praying. As if the Samhain rites were not sacrosanct!

Severus decided on direct confrontation, sending Minerva to fetch her wayward Lions.

He interviewed Fred Weasley first. "There was troll blood on your robes."

"Mum will be livid." It was true-the family could already barely afford to clothe the fruits of their poor contraceptive habits.

"How did troll blood come to be on your robes?" He used his third best snide voice, knowing it was better not to overdo things just yet.

"We killed the troll. I distracted it by shooting loud and colourful spells, while George slashed at it. He got the torso and arms first, but then I disarmed the troll with a summoning charm. The troll refused to release the club and fell to the floor. George cut his head off. The troll reeked something awful. There was so much blood."

"Why did you think it was a good idea to kill a troll yourselves?" Even if the narrative was plausible, these boys were cunning enough to have been members of his own house. It was unusual for them to act so stupidly.

"Well, we're Gryffindors, right?" How nonsensical. What was Minerva teaching these children? Severus had always disapproved of her laissez-faire approach. He made sure to meet with each of the student in his care twice a year, and had office hours wherein he made himself available to them. The prefects enforced bedtimes for the younger students and had their own rules for being present to nurture them. Children could not be trusted to raise themselves, even if some purebloods had been raised mainly by House Elves so far.

When Severus swapped the Weasleys around he found George's statement to be almost exactly the same, even using the same phrasing in many places. That was what gave their fib away: no two accounts could be that similar without having been rehearsed.

"How did you find the troll, Mister George Weasley?"

Aha! There was that brief look of panic. "We were on our ways to the kitchens, and then we followed the smell."

Severus lips curled in a self-satisfied smile. "Really? Mister Fred Weasley was certain you wanted to visit Ser Nicholas' celebration in the dungeons."

"Right." Twin two nodded. "We were on the way to the party, but I wanted to go by the kitchens first because the ghosts wouldn't have food."

Severus decided this warranted his fourth best sneer. "A likely story. Think very carefully what you were doing on Samhain at the time of the feast and directly afterwards." He gave the child a moment before silently casting Legilimency.

He watched the stuttering images flash across his sight. It was approximately like viewing a muggle film which had been made on a boat at sea by a drunken man with a broken camera. Thankfully the boys had not moved much as they had indeed been meditating, performing the Samhain rituals in honour of Fabian and Gideon Prewett.

How peculiar, to claim the slaughter of a troll when they were innocent, but perhaps this was to do with their house affiliation. How peculiar also that the Wizarding World thought the Weasleys blood traitors, and yet these boys were practising pagan rites.

"What did you do with the knife?"

"We threw it in the Black Lake." Images flashed of finding a bloody knife in their dorm rooms and getting rid of the evidence.

There were four beds in the dorm room. How horrifying, to have to share a space for seven years.

"Are you covering for someone?"

"No." His thoughts confirmed it, he had no idea who they was protecting.

Severus cut off the spell, mourning the lack of Headache Soother. "You may go."

Minerva came in once they were gone. "Did the Weasley twins kill the troll?"

"According to the evidence, yes. Additionally, they confessed."

It wasn't a lie, it just also wasn't the truth.

She nodded, then strode out. He could hear her outside his rooms. The Weasleys lost Gryffindor fifty points for putting themselves in harm's way, then gained back sixty for protecting the school populace by eliminating the dangerous creature.

Of course they were being rewarded for apparently killing a troll. Minerva was doing her Lions a disservice by encouraging such life-threatening behaviour. Half of them would probably not make it past forty, unable to survive the real world's dangers.

Finally locating a Headache-Be-Gone in one of his drawers, Severus downed it and sent for Potter.

"Where were you on Samhain eve, Mister Potter?"

"In my room, sir, communing with the dead." They both watched Potter threading his quill though his fingers, the fluid motion almost bringing it, snakelike, to life. "The castle's magic was wonderful, so strong, much thicker in the dungeons than during Mabon. It made me feel so calm, like a trance-I knew everything was alright, and the dead were with me."

Severus knew better than to use Legilimency. "Did you kill the troll, and implicate the Messers Weasley?"

"Which Weasleys, Professor? Well, I suppose Ron must have been at the feast, he loves his food. Percy is a by-the-rules prefect. The twins, I suppose, setting up some prank out in the corridors. Likely scapegoats. Gryffindors." The boy sneered.

"You narrowed it down excellently to the culprits without my input, Mister Potter-though they were practising rather than pranking. Did you kill the troll?" He repeated.

"No, sir. And the Weasleys are known blood traitors, their alibi is less believable than what they were framed for."

"Perhaps, Mister Potter, you should discuss their religious practice with Mister and Mister Weasley yourself? They could use the advice of somebody who did not learn the rites from a book."

Potter hummed. "I was communing with the magic all night. The dead are so peaceful. Don't you wonder sometimes, Professor, what it's like to be dead? Surely it can't be such a bad place they go to-the other side of the veil. It's so thin even now. Like I could just reach out and...touch it." The boy had stretched out a hand as if to touch this invisible intangible other. Alarmingly, he sounded entirely wistful about dying.

Severus prayed it was a Samhain magic thing, not the fact his student was suicidal.

He had an obligation to ask. "Are you suicidal, Mister Potter?"

"Kill myself?" Potter did not sound alarmed or surprised-more contemplative than anything. "No, sir, but I hardly need to be, do I? Enough people out there want to kill me. Two thirds of Slytherin has tried something by now. An attempt at every trip across the common room."

Severus had not thought it was still so bad two months in. But children were vicious monsters, and this was the child that supposedly killed their Dark Lord.

"I don't need to kill myself, Professor Snape," Potter continued speaking, voice even but mind far away. "I would just need to be a little too slow at the right moment. I've wanted to meet them for so long, you know? They say my mother was clever and beautiful, and my father was brave. I suspect the reality is that my mother was self-centred and vain, while my father was arrogant and idiotic."

While not untrue, Severus could not let the boy think so poorly of his own parents. "Mister Potter, rest assured your parents were good people, and they fought well in the end."

Hearing himself speak, he could tell his attempt at comforting was about as successful as most of the school thought he was-which was to say, not at all.

"Neither died holding their wands." It was so bitter from one so painfully young.

Severus was decidedly not in his comfort zone, and now Potter had closed his vacant eyes. He tried a new approach. "I am worried about you, Mister Potter." Honesty had done well in conversations with him in the past.

"Thanks." A wry smile. "You're sweet." The eyes jerked open, fear clear in the startling green. Potter flung himself into a formal bow. "My sincere apologies, Professor, that was not appropriate."

Severus had been too shocked to reply, and now it was too late for a reprimand. He wouldn't have know what to say to that, anyway. A nod sufficed as usual, and Potter relaxed minutely.

The child straightened halfway. "I haven't slept since yesterday, and the magic has been playing havoc on me. And Samhain isn't even my affiliation. Are the eight hallowed days always so intense in the castle?"

Severus decided to pretend his student hadn't just drawled 'you're sweet' to him, and forget the incident entirely. He shook his head no. "Samhain is strongest. Mabon is calm by nature, and both it and Imbolc are too poorly acknowledged here. Yule and Ostera have far fewer magical souls present to inflate them, despite strong practice. As I am sure you know, Mister Potter, Beltane is very powerful for the Light inclined, while Midsummer is rather intensely celebrated with the feast, bonfire and rituals." He didn't know why he was taking the time to explain this, they should both be going to bed.

Yet he could hear Potter's words echoing, and he was honestly worried for the boy's health not by a stranger's hands but by Potter's own. Or that, as he'd said, there would be a day Potter would choose not to defend himself, fail to duck-and let the other Slytherins massacre him. "Is there anything in particular you like to do for fun?"

Potter laughed, scrubbed his face and nodded slowly. "The Slytherin rule is don't get caught. Can that be interpreted as carte blanche, Professor?"

Severus wanted to groan, he wanted to take the apple and fling it as far as he could from James Potter's tree.

The child listened to Severus' silence and understood that it was not a 'no.' Potter was far too intelligent and far too bored.

Severus had to do something before the boy convinced the House Elves to hold a coup, or explained to the students that actually, there were a lot more of them, and if they wanted to they could overthrow the teachers and run amok. Potter needed to be directed towards less harmful activities-like pickup Quidditch, but he couldn't own a broom. Or, "have you ever considered becoming an apprentice, Mister Potter?"

The child visibly brightened. "Is that an offer, Professor Snape, or an attempt to foist my problems onto one of your colleagues?"

Bitter again, and cheeky. With anyone else he would be taking points, but Potter kept slinking through cracks in his armour. He found himself frequently thinking flattering things about the boy: he was charming, bright, witty, truthful and always respectful when it counted.

"It could be either, or both." An excellent non-answer, but Potter was intelligent enough to understand Severus had not rejected the idea.

Potter grinned. "Alright. I'll sit my Potions OWL over the Yule break exam session. What would you like in return, sir?"

Severus loved a Slytherin who understood the system; even though they rarely had anything of value to offer it was good practice for the future. "You will take over grading the first and second years' essays."

Potter cocked his head in thought, fiddling with his quill again. "Starting when, continuing for how long, and for what precisely in return?"

This boy was brilliant. Any other first year would have been so stupid as to agree already. Not that he would be offering any other first year an apprenticeship. "Begin grading tomorrow Mister Potter, and I will meet with you twice a week after dinner to ensure your preparation for the Potions OWL. We will renegotiate in January as you begin to prepare for the NEWT.

"Meet with me to ensure my preparation," Potter parroted. "Is that a guaranteed meeting or guaranteed preparation, I wonder?"

Clever boy. He would make an exceptional politician once the other Slytherins stopped attacking him and let him play the game.

"Alright, Master Snape. I accept."

Dunderhead. He should have insisted on clarifying the point in his favour instead of Severus'. "Until you are officially my apprentice, you shall continue to address me as 'Professor' or 'Sir'."

He dismissed Potter after a few more exchanged words, which Severus chose not to interpret as banter. Then, finally, Severus was heading off gratefully to bed.

As he changed into pyjamas he realised Potter had derailed the conversation entirely, and it was not in the realm of the impossible for the eleven-year-old to have killed a troll. 'Nothing is impossible,' Lily had always said.

Guided by the calm and rightness Potter had claimed to have been feeling, supported by the powerful magic of the dead, he could have been assisted in the kill while being in a trance all night.

Furthermore, Severus had been manipulated into offering him an apprenticeship. Gods, Potter was a genius. Teaching him was going to be fun.

xoxox

The second of November was always a slow day. The wild magic calmed, the students were no longer experiencing blood-sugar crashes and the associated foul moods. Across the school, the Weasley twins were unofficially celebrated as saviours. Nothing exploded in his classes all day, and despite it being Wednesday Severus decided to reward himself with a trip to the Admiral Duncan.

He shared a smoke with Gramps as he let the latest gossip wash over him. Mark had been seen with Mikey, Ricky had had a terrible spat with Alex and refused to come back to the Admiral Duncan any more, choosing instead to haunt The Yard up the street. Harold was seeing a woman his parents had arranged for him, though her personality was apparently far too weak for him. There was a betting pool on how long the relationship would last.

Severus found four pounds sixty in his pocket and placed them on two days before Christmas.

When Gramps bought him another drink, Severus realised he was being hit on. With his receding hairline and neat salt-and-pepper beard, Gramps' crinkled face told stories of a life full of laughter. But as things were, the first noticeable thing-and likely for some, the only thing-was the wheelchair, followed closely for his propensity toward forgettable collared shirts, as if he wanted to blend entirely into the background.

He might have succeeded, if not for the chair, and the obviously home-knitted sweaters he was always wearing. They were all colourful and in some way holey. Like a beauty mark, or a freckle, there were dropped stitches in the pattern where the cold came in, which invited instinctively to be filled with a kiss.

Gramps was in all ways a warm man with stick legs and almost womanly hips. He wasn't ugly, but Severus really doubted that they were each others' type, and decided he should stop the man before this went further. "Mark told me a bit about your preferences. I am not sure if we are compatible." He sipped at the free cognac anyway, because hey, free cognac.

"Are you sure? People are diverse. Mark's had us all a few times, and now he's off with Mikey. Mikey's…intense, you know the type?" Gramps licked his lips. "I think you could enjoy following some orders for a night."

Severus thought about it. Regulus had been so young and innocent-Severus had loved the way he had looked to Severus for everything. Loved the feeling of power over someone.

Lucius had been forceful and sadistic. It hadn't been fully consensual, in retrospect, and Severus knew he hadn't liked Lucius' brand of sex much. Severus' bedmates were now always Muggles, and usually let Severus take charge of the situation and leave some clothes on. "I prefer to keep my clothes on."

Great. Now his thoughts were coming out of his mouth without passing through his conscious brain.

"That's fine. You look good in your clothes. What do you think about being told what to do?"

"Depends on the person. Not from Lucius."

Gramps hugged him. "Sometimes there's one that fucks you up. Are you averse to the idea? We can give it a try, and if it doesn't work out you can leave. It's slim pickings today anyway, just a Wednesday.

Explicit sex scene begins

Severus thought some more, and nodded. "You can tell me what to do, as long as it's something I want to do, or would do myself anyway."

"That's fair." Gramps led him outside into the drizzle. When had Severus even gotten up? That might have been a bit more to drink than he'd thought.

His thoughts cleared as the November air burned his lungs. This could go wrong, they were barely friends.

Or-well, it could be fun.

"What would you want to do?" Gramps pulled him to the present.

They were in the cab and the cabby was probably listening. Perversely, it turned Severus on more. "I could suck you off. Touch you...or kiss you."

"Would you kneel for me if I ordered it, Prince?"

Severus' twitching cock had made the decision for him. He stopped trying to make his conscious brain do the thinking.

The cabby received a generous tip for his voyeurism, and suddenly Severus was in a bedroom,watching Gramps heave his body onto the bed. The presence of the thick carpet was self-explanatory.

"Kneel for me, Prince." Severus did so carefully, mentally assigning points when Gramps did not object.

"Crawl over here."

His stomach was churning unhappily. "I would rather not."

Gramps rolled his eyes. "Then walk over, and kneel again."

Severus might have grinned as he did so; this was a lot less degrading than he had expected. Gramps winked cheerily, then leaned down to press a kiss onto Severus' hair.

"Help me undo my trousers, luv."

Gramps' stick legs were now dangling down the side of the bed, tweed bunched around his ankles. "That's it, and my shorts, too."

It was somehow liberating, being told exactly what to do. He did not have to be concerned about his partner's pleasure, or worry about what to do next-the order would come. Severus was grounded in the moment, and suddenly understood why people did this.

Severus let Gramps walk him through what he wanted, enjoying the way soothing fingers were carding through his hair. "Good, pet. You're doing so well. Are you ready for more?"

Upon Severus' nod, Gramps handed over a condom. The smell of latex bothered him for approximately half a minute, as usual. Then Severus was lost in the sound of Gramps' voice, the sensation of the prick in his mouth-

-The power rush that came from undoing the man while being guided every step along the way.

Severus was not worried, because it was not his situation to control. He felt wonderfully free.

"Bit more of that tongue, if you will. And your nails are digging into my thigh. Here, help me take off these trousers, but leave me my socks."

Severus basked in the appreciative noises and head pats, as some part of his mind wondered about the existence of a pet dog.

"There, you like that, don't you."

"Too far. Yellow." Severus did not want to feel judged for enjoying this.

"Sorry."

That hand in Severus' hair felt amazing, so he let it go. Gramps passed over the lube, guiding Severus' hand into place. "Two fingers, luv, and keep sucking me off."

He relaxed back into the task. Gramps groaned as Severus breached him, falling back onto the bed. He hugged one of his knees to his chest and Severus loved the way the man was opening himself.

"Wank yourself with your other hand, will you?"

Already kneeling while sucking off and fingering the man, Severus had to lean against the bed to avoid toppling over. But Gramps took over fondling himself, freeing Severus to tug on his own desperately straining prick.

It didn't take much for Severus to come, and he barely remembered in time to aim into the discarded underwear rather than the thick carpet. His newly unoccupied hand went back to Gramps' prick.

"Smear your come on my fingers, luv."

Slightly grossed out, Severus passed the man the soiled pants and watched as Gramps tasted it. His arousal plummeted-Severus really needed Gramps to come soon.

But the taste of him must have done the trick, because Gramps followed him over the edge soon after. Severus withdrew gratefully, rolling his wrist and wincing as the joint cracked.

Explicit sex scene ends

His own breathing having returned to normal, Severus tucked himself back in and stood slowly. He pecked the still panting Gramps on the cheek. "Are you alright?"

"Brill. Thanks, luv."

"Mind if I go take a shower?"

Without looking up, Gramps pointed at a door. Severus made sure to take the filthy pants with him.

Unsure of the amount of hot water available, he skipped washing his hair. When he stepped out behind the curtain Gramps was sitting by the loo, only half dressed. "Don't mind me."

Severus shrugged and took the mediocre grey towel. As he was examining himself in the slightly steamed mirror, Gramps reached out a hand, hovering it over his arse. "Mind if I touch you?"

Severus didn't care, and said so, towelling the damp tips of his hair.

"You're such a pretty man, Prince. Bony, yes, with such wonderful soft skin." Gramps was tracing around the scars on his back that his father had gifted him with. "Why the snake tattoo? You don't seem like the type, not that I'm judging."

Severus stepped neatly out of range of Gramps' touch. "It was a mistake I made in my youth." Gramps evidently heard the implied 'and I really don't want to talk about it.'

Gramps nodded sagely, spreading his hands palms up. "Mark says we should wear our scars with pride, that they tell us where we've been and what we've lived through." Severus began redressing, letting the man talk. "But Mark doesn't have many scars-he doesn't understand it at all. That there are some things we don't want to be reminded of, that we don't want some of our worst moments branded onto our skin." Gramps eyes had fallen on a burn mark on Severus' side from an incident with his father and a cigar. Severus suppressed his flinch, pulling his shirt on.

He felt safer covered up. It was his daily armour against the world, and he couldn't fathom how people could wear shorts and tees-that was practically walking around in underwear. Severus yearned for his Wizarding robes, and the buttons. It was a ritual: closing himself off from the world, holding himself together, holding himself in. Every button a promise that he would not fall apart this day.

The buttons of his cotton shirt did not have as strong a reassuring effect.

"Join me by the kitchen window for a fag?" Gramps was apparently clingy post-sex.

They passed one back and forth. Gramps suddenly looked ancient, prompting Severus to ask. "How old are you?"

"Barely sixty. You?"

"Thirty-one. You look old in this light."

Gramps laughed. "You really know how to make a man feel good about himself."

"You were the one talking about being branded. Like...like cattle."

"Fair enough." Gramps lit another and passed it over. "I have scars too. A fall from a tree, back when I could climb trees. From the Blitz, obviously. A car crash, a rusty fence, a few incidences with a slipped sharp knife, an oven door-and countless surgeons' knives." His voice was bitter, tempered only by another deep drag. "Stupid things, things I wish I could forget."

It was a bad idea to forget. If he did not remember his mistakes, how could he atone for them? "I wish they weren't on my skin, but I refuse to forget," Severus disagreed, grinding the butt into the ashtray with petty satisfaction. "Mark is right when he calls them reminders, and lessons."

The depth of his regrets were the only thing that made Severus an even marginally good person. His father's abuse had made him a more attentive Head of House. Having been bullied made him less tolerant of the same behaviour amongst his students. His mistake in joining the Dark Lord had pushed him to finish his Potions Mastery early and approach Albus for a way out, which had kept him out of Azkaban after the war. His role in the death of Lily Potter had led to the nurturing relationship he was building with her brilliant son.

Severus knew there was a reason he avoided nostalgia like the plague of hurt it was. Turning away quickly, he excused himself from Gramps' company to make sure he vanished all traces that he'd ever been there. It was paranoid, but he knew of many Dark things that could be done with all manner of bodily fluids. A surreptitious cleaning charm cast at his own clothes, before he was leaning down to place a last kiss on Gramps' cheek.

They exchanged wry smiles, and despite himself Severus was glad he had agreed to come along this night. It had been interesting, at the very least. He had learnt something about himself.

Gramps waved as he saw him out. Thank the Gods for Apparation, Severus thought as he ducked into a shadow. Ten minutes later he was back in his rooms.

xoxox

I'll be adding chapters fortnightly without editing them further. Feel free to check out my other fics in the meantime, there are more over on ao3. Thank you all for your continued support.