If asked, the villagers would have said of their newest residents that they were friendly enough blokes — especially the blind one who soon learned his way around the main business district and was happy to stop and chat (albeit somewhat disjointedly) to anyone passing — but that they largely kept themselves to themselves and bothered no one.
This was true; the drama mainly occurred on the property which they had quickly renamed Dunmanifestin after the home of the gods on Terry Pratchett's Discworld.
'And I suppose you are Blind Io,' said Severus with a smirk.
'Yes,' agreed Sirius.
'So, dare I ask, who am I then?'
Sirius had begun to snicker, which had soon blossomed into a full-throated guffaw. This did not aid his ability to speak at all, and it was quite some time before Severus could extract a coherent answer.
'Offler!' Severus was less outraged than his tone had suggested. In fact, he was secretly extremely amused.
'They don't have a snake,' was all Sirius said by way of explanation, which Severus took to mean that a crocodile, being the only known reptile on Dunmanifestin, would have to serve.
'Cheek,' he replied as he playfully slapped a tea-towel into Sirius' hand. 'Since I can no longer trust you to use magic in here, you may as well learn and memorise the location of everything, and this is a good way to begin.'
Not long after they had moved in, Sirius had taken it into his head to try to operate the microwave using his wand, which had resulted in the destruction of the entire run of fuses on that side of the house, together with the brand-new steam oven, the dish washer and the refrigerator. The only explanation Severus had received for that little adventure was, 'I just wanted to see if I could still use it.'
Already fearing that he may have bitten off more than he could chew, Severus had consulted Sirius' muggle Vision Rehab specialist who, in turn, had found the local Brain Injury Society. With the help of a Field Officer — a squib named Elmer Luxton — they had devised several strategies which would hopefully avoid — or at least minimise — future incidents. One was that Sirius should write his thoughts regularly. This he could do with relish, as his primary difficulty lay in his speech centre itself and not with his store of vocabulary. A second had involved Sirius consulting Severus whenever he had a hair-brained idea, and the last — painfully — the decision to relinquish his wand. Sirius was, in fact, less upset by this than Severus.
'Never been much use since the accident anyway,' he said philosophically. 'I'll … miss … Padfoot.'
Over the years Sirius would, with the help of raised dots on the appliances and Brailed labels on everything in their well-ordered, well-stocked pantry, learn to competently prepare and cook anything Severus could grow, though he would never be the chef that Severus was.
Nor would he ever succeed as a gardener or herbologist. This was a source of relief to Severus, particularly after an incident with the ride-on lawn tractor in which Sirius, grieving the loss of his motorbike, had managed to persuade Severus to let him have a go on the new lawn-mower. However, as soon as he had managed to start it up, he had panicked. Perhaps it was sheer euphoria at the feel of a motor beneath him; perhaps it was simply that the vibrations combined with the sound had spooked him. In either case, the result had been the same; he had placed his foot on the accelerator and driven the tractor straight through Severus' precious bed of Venomous Tentacular, which he'd been cultivating for the past six months. It had risen up and tried to attack him, and Sirius had run the tractor smack into the garden wall. That escapade had resulted in a stint in muggle hospital, together with an admonition from Severus never to set foot outside the entertainment area of the garden unless he was supervised.
These dramas aside, the two of them soon settled down to a comfortable routine. Sirius would usually wake first, prepare their breakfast and pad with it into Severus' room. If the weather was fine, they would enjoy it on Severus' balcony, from which both of them could hear the English Channel. If wet, windy or cold, they would repair to their shared private parlour and lounge on the squishy green leather sofa in front of the television for an hour.
Then each of them would head to their respective workstations for the day: Severus either into the garden or the potions lab, and Sirius down to the music room and/or the library to work at his computer.
It was on one of the green squishy days, as Sirius called them, that he announced casually,
'I think Sirius and Severus are too um … hard.'
Severus looked up from his Daily Prophet. 'What?'
'Hard to say … all the time,' continued Sirius. 'Too … um … long, difficult … stuffy. Yes, stuffy.'
'We agreed we would not try to shorten each other's names,' cautioned Severus.
'Nicknames!' cried Sirius enthusiastically.
'By no means,' interjected Severus, his face currently living up to his first name.
'But — but …'
Severus sighed. 'All right. Out with it. I shall not get any peace until you do.'
'Crotchety and Minimum,' announced Sirius happily.
'Do I need to enquire which one of us is which?' sighed Severus fondly.
'We're both musicians.' Was all the explanation he was going to get.
Thereafter, they became crotchety and Minimum (or C and M) to one another. Scraps of Braille note-paper would appear in odd places throughout the house; Severus learned Braille so that no one else would read their notes.
"Dear C. Wish these muggles wouldn't make things in the same cans. Please label the new fruits. Love, M."
"My dear M, You are correct in that muggles and wizards alike are not famed for their ability to "think outside the box". There, you just made me use a loathsome cliché. I hope you are satisfied. Love, C."
"Wonderful C. How come I can memorise the whole of the Secondo part to Liszt's Beethoven Ninth Symphony for Four Hands, yet not remember where the coffee is? Your Frustrated M"
"Oh M. If I had the answer to questions like that I could retire tomorrow. It's on the little shelf to the left of the bench, along with the tea and other hot drinks. Your C."
Of course, neither man had any economic reason to work, the Black family's fortune alone being enough to sustain them. However, neither man had been anything but active in their previous lives, and they saw no reason for that to change.
Severus established a niche, highly specialised wholesale potions business, for which products he was paid handsomely by St Mungo's and private institutions alike. The complexity of the ingredients, and the timing and concentration required, often saw him spend entire days in his lab, during which time he would not see Sirius at all. Paradoxically, this was a time of peace for Severus who, despite his growing fondness for the other, sometimes found living with him highly stressful. It wasn't so much the dramas and incidents which punctuated an otherwise idyllic lifestyle, but the way Sirius' almost eternal, child-like happiness was gradually breaking down his walls. Elektra, Sirius' snowy owl, would appear out of a clear blue sky and wait patiently on Severus' workbench until he could tear himself away from his work long enough to collect the latest Brailed note.
"Most wise and knowledgeable C: this Les Miserable score is giving me gyp. That discordant, double-dotted brass phrase during the second attack sounds off to me, yet the score tells me it's not. Help! M."
Severus would take the slate and stylus from his robes and, finding a spare space on his worktop, swiftly compose a reply.
"My poor M. It seems you were born too late — a man out of time. Perhaps we both are, in our individual ways. Add it to tonight's agenda, for I do not expect to be finished here before that time. Your C."
At other times, Severus could be found, hair up and sun-hatted, losing himself in their substantial gardens and orchard where he took great pride in producing organic food of the highest quality. Sirius learned to relish the use of this growing abundance, and anything which could not be dried, preserved, made into pickles, sources or chutneys was sent to the Potters and Granger-Weasleys who would eventually grow used to boxes of largess from the Dunmanifestin estate.
Meanwhile, aside from endless piano practice, Sirius became competent on the computer. Eventually, he discovered a piece of software, developed by two blind men from the United States, which let him emboss musical scores for himself, provided he could obtain them in the right electronic format. This led to two more packages from that same company — one which let him use Avid's Sibelius for composing and handling musical scores, the other an elaborate set of scripts which would help him use Sonar's Cakewalk recording software. With these, and the addition of two professional musical keyboards, he began to accept commissions from amateur and semi-professional musical societies. He would acquire the orchestral scores for the musicals and convert them to midi for electronic keyboards. He could also, if requested, provide keyboard plots.
The money earned from each business became secondary to the satisfaction that each man derived from his separate ventures.
Evenings were given over almost entirely to the performance of music for their own pleasure, though Severus would, now and then, continue to tutor Sirius. They played all the greats from the Renaissance to the 20 th century, though Severus quickly learned to choose his pieces with care, since some discords seemd to have a deleterious effect on Sirius. They argued, competed with and tutored one another in new techniques, but mostly they simply played — each man taking pleasure in the talent and growing prowess of the other.
Anyone who happened to visit them in the evenings (mainly the Potters, augmented by the Granger-Weasleys and the Malfoys in later years) would be subjected to a lecture from Severus on music theory and appreciation, whether they wanted it or not. This even extended to the children when they came.
Lily Potter and Hugo Granger-Weasley, in particular, would sit in rapt attention while Grumpy, the Potter children's nickname for Severus, (It had started out as Grampy but young James had soon changed it to Grumpy, which was considered, even by its owner, somewhat more appropriate.) would educate them on key signatures, accidentals and time signatures. Pop (their name for Sirius which, all agreed, was as much a play on his mercurial nature as a grandfatherly title) was always called upon to demonstrate; he would often have them all in stitches (even Grumpy) by adding something clownish such as playing the piano behind his back.
On one memorable occasion, however, Albus had been slow to understand the difference between sharps and flats. So, Pop had arisen from the piano bench, made his way over to Albus, plucked the beachball from the astonished and indignant hands of his little sister and flattened it, enquiring,
'Did that go up or down, Al?'
After reassurance that the ball could be re-inflated, and a promise to try and remember to give advance warning of his intentions, everything was smoothed over and life continued within its customary idyll.
For his 50th birthday, Severus got from Sirius, all of Franz Schubert's pieces for Four Hands, beautifully bound in fine deerskin, and Severus never found out where or how he had acquired them. Attached to the package was this note:
"C: there are no words to express my gratitude for your continued existence, so these easy pieces will have to do. All my love, M.
PS: I've learned all the things in here. Let me teach you. Please! M"
So, the Schubert duets were added to their extensive repertoire, with the Fantasie in F Minor and the Grand Rondo in A Major as firm favourites.
One day, Sirius inadvertently left the music room door ajar while they were hosting the Potters during an Easter Holiday. Upon overhearing the F Minor when she came to seek them out for dinner, Ginny Potter had insisted they perform it for the family. Sirius was of the opinion that if they were going to do that, they may as well show what they could really do and add the Liszt transcription of Beethoven's Ninth Symphony for two pianos, making it a full recital. Severus, perhaps predictably, was adamant that they should not perform at all. It was, ironically, Harry who turned him around.
A rare shouting match had resulted in Sirius shutting and barricading himself in the library.
Harry had found Severus down by the sea, a few hundred metres from their home, seated on a rock, so still it seemed he was part of the land itself. Harry had simply sat beside him, silently waiting until he was noticed.
'You know, Severus,' he began when the other finally raised his sad, depthless, onyx eyes to look at him, 'I sometimes wake up and wonder whether I've been transported into an alternate universe.'
Severus nodded, instantly divining his meaning.
'And every time, I realise how grateful I am that I have. I've got a wonderful wife, three gorgeous children, a fantastic job, wonderful friends, and I have you and Sirius. What more could a man want? I hope whatever accident landed me here never gets fixed.'
Severus had not replied, but later he had approached Ginny and told her he would agree to the performance on the proviso that it was attended only by their extended family.
'No one's going to put it on the net, Severus,' reassured Ginny with a smile. 'we — that is, I — just want the chance of a family skite. You know, look what amazing grandparents my kids have that sort of thing. Now, do you want to go and extract Sirius, or shall I try first?'
They eventually gave the performance in their capacious music room on the following Boxing Day. In attendance were all the Potters, the Granger-Weasleys, Molly and Arthur, Bill and Fleur and their children, George and Angelina with their children, Luna and Ralph, Andromeda and Teddy, with all five Malfoys. Severus had only agreed to such a crowd on the condition that he could ward the space against the use of any electronic recording devices. Sirius had also wanted to invite select villagers with whom he had become friendly over the years, but Severus adamantly refused and would not be swayed. In the end, the performance was rapturously received by all — and secretly recorded by Hermione's wand, using a charm that she and Filius Flitwick had invented. It had not occurred to Severus that anyone would, or could, use magic in this way; neither he nor Sirius ever found out about it.
Sirius would not much have cared if he had. All through his life he retained an almost child-like happiness which only partly stemmed from the brain injury. If asked, he would have told you the majority was simple gratitude that he had firstly, not succeeded in killing his childhood enemy; and secondly, that said former enemy had saved him from what would have proven a short, bleak and loveless existence in St Mungo's.
For their 55th birthdays, Severus had arranged a holiday in the United States for the following summer. The travel had almost undone Sirius, whose reaction to the aeroplane had been child-like and excited, until it had taken off. Then his head had ached fit to explode. (perhaps it was the pressurised environment? Severus did not know.) The result was that Severus had had to stupefy him so that he could cease disturbing the other passengers.
They had visited both Washington DC and New York, the latter purely for the music and the food. Severus did not enjoy the little out-of-the way clubs as much as Sirius, but the food fascinated him.
'We will both have to upgrade our exercise routines if this continues much longer,' he had commented wryly after a visit to what an internet friend of Sirius' had dubbed a "real American diner".
Of course, they could not have left New York without taking in a Broadway Show and visiting the Metropolitan Opera.
But the highlight for both of them had been their time in Philadelphia with a business associate of Severus, who took them to the Macy's department store to hear - and afterwards play — the mighty Wanamaker organ. Sirius had had a long and rapt conversation with the Grand Court Organist and one of his assistants, while Severus and his business associate had happily discussed the workings of the organ's 28,750 pipes in 464 ranks, and the Friends of the Organ's plans for future upgrades.
They had remained in Philadelphia long enough to attend the whole of Wanamaker Organ Day, culminating in a gala concert which both gave as the absolute highlight of their trip.
Travel back was again long and arduous — this time due to the fact that Severus, wishing to avoid another eventful plane ride, had opted for multiple portkeys. It was decided, regretfully, that they would not travel again unless they could either drive, apparate or limit their distance to two portkeys per trip.
For his part, Severus was quite content with this arrangement. Aside from the immunosuppressant drugs he was forced to take because of his transplants and the resulting frequent medical check-ups, the constant monitoring of his physical health meant that travel needed to be very carefully planned in any case. It was Sirius who had been disappointed at never seeing the birthplace of their beloved Beethoven or Schubert, never attending an opera at La Scala in Milan or checking out the famous acoustics in the Hagia Sofia.
If pressed, however, Severus' primary reason for staying at home remained the sporadic but persistent nightmares which invariably saw Sirius at his bedside. During those dark times, Sirius would hold Severus close and — in his odd, disjointed fashion — entertain him with stories, songs and snatches of poetry until he had succeeded in making Severus laugh out loud.
However, as the years passed and the nightmares began gradually to recede, it was silence that the two men cherished most of all. Sirius would take the shuddering, sweating Severus into his arms and simply hold him. Neither man would speak or move; simply being in the other's presence was all each of them needed.
On Sirius' 60th birthday, he arrived home from a few days' respite care with Molly and Arthur Weasley, to find an additional piece of furniture in their private parlour. It was a square grand piano, made in the style of the Viennese fortepianos of the 1820s. Sitting on the music stand were three bulky volumes in Braille which turned out to be a copy of Beethoven's Sonata in B Flat Major, Op. 106 — still slated to be one of the most difficult solo piano pieces in the classical repertoire. The book came with the following note:
"My M. How can the passage of the stars and planets be adequately expressed in music? Perhaps this is the way. For our life together, from that inauspicious meeting to the present, I have no art at all, so this will have to suffice. Your C."
Instead of going to dinner that night as planned, they stayed in and began work on the Hammerklavier.
When Severus' own 60th birthday rolled around in two months, they were still hard at work on the sonata and again eschewed a dinner out. Severus had even heard rumours of a surprise joint 60th which Andromeda had been planning and put a stop to it in true Severus Snape fashion. He simply informed her that he and Sirius would not be there.
Undeterred, Andromeda, with the help of Narcissa, set about gathering the entire extended family together at Malfoy Manor the following summer while the children were on holidays from Hogwarts. Persuading the two recluses to leave their village idyll had not been as difficult as anticipated. Severus had been growing bored of the potions business and was considering retirement (he had no financial need to work, after all). Secretly, however, he was also growing tired.
Work on the Hammerklavier had proven physically and emotionally arduous. Firstly, it is a long sonata at a little less than an hour — quite a lot less if one observes Beethoven's incredible tempo markings. Secondly, although every movement makes previously unequalled technical and emotional demands, the very long third movement has been dubbed 'the apotheosis of pain' among other things for the emotional toll it exacts. Severus, in particular, found this difficult. While Sirius had memorised the first three movements with relative ease, this one had thus far required the greatest discipline of mind from Severus. He could only marvel at Sirius' continued ability to suck up the notes like a sponge.
It was Sirius who finally paved the way for Severus to approach the third and fourth movements at all. After struggling to give him meaningful help with the technical challenges he simply handed him a Brailed note which said,
'Let go. This piece is about spirit. If you have the technical mastery — and you do — it will carry you. If you do not you will never manage it anyway. But the technical skill alone won't get you through this one. This is about spirit.'
It was the night before Mid-Summer's Eve, and what Narcissa and Andromeda were calling the Gratitude Party. The Manor was filled to bursting with Weasleys, Malfoys, Potters and other assorted hangers-on, and the fine Bösendorfer grand had been given over to the use of the family musicians on the understanding that at least one of them would perform tomorrow night. Of course, Sirius would be expected to step up, since Severus had vowed that he would not perform again following that memorable Beethoven-Schubert recital some years earlier, and so far, he had refused to budge.
Sirius had concluded his final practice (a short recital from Bach, Mozart, Chopin and Liszt which Severus had pronounced acceptable) and had returned to work on the Hammerklavier.
'Fuck!' Sirius' curse jolted Severus from his obsessive perusal of the printed score. 'There are bloody trills upon trills, all over the fucking place. Beethoven, you bastard. If you tell me you haven't got more than 10 fucking fingers, I'll …'
'lower your voice, please,' begged Severus. 'The children might hear you. Now, play that again.'
Sirius had been deep within the Grosse Fugue, but he turned from the piano and stretched theatrically. 'How about you … um … try. I'll-even-let-you … use your print score.'
Severus sighed. 'I — I … I can't. I think this work is finally going to defeat me.'
Sirius had seldom heard Severus sound so sad. He slipped from the bench and, knee-walking over to his long-time friend, reached for both his slender hands, steeled himself and asked,
'What's up, C? And don't tell me nothing because I'm going to hold you right here until you tell me. I can do it, too.'
He could. Sirius, at 60, still retained a good deal of his physical strength and athleticism. Walks and runs on the beach with the local walking group, together with regular weight-bearing exercises and a healthy diet at Severus' insistence, had kept him relatively strong. By contrast, Severus had retained his pale, slender, more delicate form, primarily because he was required to observe strict eating habits as a transplant recipient on a cocktail of immunosuppressants. If Sirius was a robust terracotta urn, Severus was a delicate porcelain vase.
'Ah, fuck this,' expostulated Sirius. He stood up and wrapped his arms around his best friend, his fingers working their way through Severus' long, silky, still-mostly-black locks to the back of the slender neck, where they froze.
'C? What's this?'
Severus could not suppress a slight wince as Sirius' sensitive fingers explored a tiny, hard-crusted something about three centimetres below the nape.
'Ouch. Don't know. I had not noticed it was there until you poked it.'
He hadn't poked it, and both of them knew it.
'C, it … feels … bad. How long?' Sirius could not keep the fear from his voice.
Severus drew his own arms around Sirius' waist. 'I honestly do not know, Min. I thought I noticed something while washing my hair last week but I didn't think anything of it until now…' He broke off and squeezed Sirius to forestall any protest. 'I promise I shall bring it up at my next follow-up the day after we return home. Will that suit?'
No, it would not. But Sirius also knew there was an important event happening tomorrow night, and that he — at least — was willing to acknowledge that it was partly on their account. It would have to do — for now.
Midsummer's Eve was a raging success. Narcissa and Andromeda, aided by an army of free House Elves, had transformed the croquet lawn into a fairy woodland, complete with lighted silver-barked, golden-leafed trees and a forest floor of pine needles and fallen green leaves which never crushed underfoot. Everyone had been asked to dress in costume and, knowing that neither Severus nor Sirius would willingly comply, Narcissa had ensured that outfits had been provided for them. After some discussion it had been decided that Severus would be Oberon and Sirius Puck.
'But he's too big to be a Puck,' protested Severus weakly.
He and Sirius had returned to their suite to find Ginny and Molly waiting there with outfits at the ready, fully prepared to dress the two of them if necessary.
Severus had taken a single look at their determined faces and known that there was only one way this would end, but he saw it as his bound and duty to hold out for as long as he could.
'Bollocks!' laughed Sirius merrily. 'I'm Puck.'
Severus sighed. He knew he was defeated.
They gathered under a particularly tall tree which resembled a Mallorn. No surprise there, since Lucius and Narcissa sat on twin chairs beneath it, dressed as Celeborn and Galadriel.
Before the commencement of the delicious buffet, Lucius had stood and expressed his gratitude for all their presence in the family's life, for the changes which were still being wrought on the wizarding world and for his lovely wife and family. Each person rose then and followed suit. When it came Severus and Sirius' turn last of all, it was Severus who had the harder time.
'I … I'm grateful for … for this man,' declared Sirius confidently, slinging an arm around Severus' shoulders. 'Without him I'd … be … dead.'
Everyone laughed, but not a few eyes were shining.
When Severus arose next to Sirius and insisted that he remain standing, everyone grew expectantly silent.
'I wish to start by paying tribute to someone whom I never met — who, in fact, is dead,' he began, his voice tight with emotion. 'Twenty years ago, a family agreed to let me use the voice, and other associated organs, of their dead loved one, so that I could enjoy a quality of life. Because of their generosity, I met a man who came with a whole bag of issues, a wonderful family, which seems to grow every time I turn around,' (Gales of laughter greeted this sally.) 'and an even bigger army of friends. And as if these gifts weren't enough, this man beside me has seen fit to bestow on me all the sheer joy of living — every day of our lives.'
He broke off then, unable to say any more. Much to his embarrassment, Harry bloody Potter began to applaud, and soon the entire company was raising the roof with claps, cheers and even the odd whistle from young James (Who in Merlin's name had taught him to do that?). He and Sirius sat down smartly and proceeded to put their heads together, partly so that they could avoid everyone seeing them blush.
The food and drink flowed.
Puck's recital was greeted with the usual enthusiasm, which helped his willingness to remain at the piano while various and sundry Weasleys and Potters decided to sing, dance and even stage an impromptu skit. During a lull in the proceedings, a drowsy Lily Potter, curled now in Severus' lap, raised her head to gaze at him.
'Grumpy, why don't you play?' she asked sleepily.
'He does, in fact,' said her big brother James. 'He just chooses not to play for us.'
Severus gave him a look.
'But why not?' whined a disappointed Lily.
'I — I do not feel comfortable playing for crowds, little one,' explained Severus, trying to remain calm.
Lily Huffed, which almost made Severus laugh. She sounded just like him. 'But we're not a crowd,' she persisted. 'We're family.'
Severus shook his head.
'Oh, Grumpy! Please!' She twisted round in his arms so she could face him. 'Give me one good reason why not, and I promise I won't ask ever again. And "I don't want to" doesn't count.'
'Which house did you say you were in?' he countered, though he could not suppress a small smile. This one was going to have her mother's fire and her father's determination.
'I have not rehearsed,' he finally declared. 'Will that suffice?'
'No,' put in James. 'Come on, Grumpy. You and Pop play all the time. I'm the only one old enough to remember that concert. The others effectively haven't heard you before.'
'What are you two doing badgering your poor Grumpy?' chided Molly, approaching swiftly with a China pot of mint tea for Severus. 'Leave the poor man alone. He looks worn out.'
'They weren't really bothering me, Molly,' reassured Severus.
Lily took the pot from her grandmother and poured her Grumpy a cup. 'Sorry, Grumpy,' she said humbly.
'Don't be, young one. I have never been good at sharing myself where perhaps I should. It's something I still have not learned from your Pop,' he said sadly. 'Perhaps I should go over and see how he is.'
He downed the warm tea, rose slowly and glided over to Sirius still seated at the piano.
'Come to join me?' laughed Sirius.
Severus actually laughed. 'Not you, too. I suppose I have. Our Lily has been trying to challenge me to play.' He waved her over. 'Would you accept a compromise?'
Lily nodded.
'Would you be happy if Pop and I played together?'
Lily threw her arms around Severus and squeezed. 'Oh, Grumpy, I love you so much!'
Severus disentangled himself and sat quietly beside Sirius as he finished an interestingly intricate little improvisation on Bach's Minuet in G.
'Fantasie?' he asked his life partner.
'Fantasie,' agreed Severus as he took the bench to Sirius' right. 'Let's just begin before I change my mind.'
It took no time at all for the entire company to fall silent as the two embarked on Schubert's Fantasie in F Minor. And the silence continued for a long time when it was done.
It was Narcissa who approached them. 'I know I speak for everyone here,' she began, her voice vibrating with feeling, 'when I say that you two are a joy to watch and listen to, particularly at the piano. I'd even go so far as to call you both a symbol of the new age of the wizarding world. Thank you.'
More stunned silence ensued until Lucius began the applause.
'No .. you .. don't.' Sirius kept hold of Severus who would have exited as quickly as he could. 'Not … this … time.'
Soon they were both surrounded by the Potter and Granger-Weasley children, with young Scorpius Malfoy standing shyly in the background before Albus pulled him into the group.
'Photo!' cried Hermione. 'Come on, kids, gather round.'
Severus groaned.
The resultant picture showed two salt-and-pepper-haired men seated with a girl standing on either side: Rose beside Sirius and Lily (who would not be separated from her Grumpy) beside Severus. Hugo peeped from behind with his hand on his sister's shoulder and a cheeky grin on his face.
James stood next to him, in the centre back, with Scorpius and Albus completing the back row.
'Say Voldemort,' called Hermione mischievously, as she clicked the shutter. The mirth on all the faces, except Severus' who looked shocked, was priceless. Hermione later had copies made for all who wanted them. She also freely distributed the video she'd made of the two of them at the piano.
'Don't … want to … be a … bloody symbol,' snapped Sirius as they shared a bedtime chamomile tea in their suite.
'Neither do I,' agreed Severus. 'I do see her point, however.'
'What?'
'Of course, Min,' he continued with an upward curl of his lips. 'This time 20 years ago, you would most definitely not have been on my list of potential life companions, had I thought fit to compose one.'
Sirius laughed. 'I suppose not. Funnyhowlifegoes.'
He rose then, and wound his arms around Severus' neck, being careful to avoid that tiny spot which gave him such a feeling of dread. 'And now?'
Severus set down his empty cup and, with a flick of his wand, sent the tea things into the dumb-waiter by the door.
He gazed up at Sirius, who was rather taller than he, and wished for the thousandth time that he could see him.
'I meant what I said tonight,' he said softly. 'You bring me joy every day. That is a priceless gift.'
The remainder of their summer holiday at Malfoy Manor passed in a welter of dinners, children, quiet conversation and music. Severus never picked up the Hammerklavier again, though he encouraged Sirius to stick with it.
The fourth movement was proving a Herculean task, both to master and to memorise.
'I swear, Mr Beethoven,' ejaculated Sirius as he sat at the piano the night before their return home. 'If you weren't … already dead … I'd … bloody … kill … you!'
Severus laughed. He couldn't help himself.
Sirius slammed the braille volume on the top of the piano.
'I … bloody … give … up. I'm getting-too-old-for-this-malarkey.'
Severus joined him on the piano bench. 'Stuff and nonsense,' he chided gently. 'Mr Beethoven is probably laughing at you from the grave. Do you intend to go on letting him do that?'
Sirius pulled him into his arms, eliciting a jerk and a wince.
'C? Talk to me … now.'
Before first light that next morning, three wizards apparated directly into Dunmanifestin, the two elder having been up all night, talking.
'I don't want to hear it, Severus,' said Harry firmly. 'You're the only two elder family members I've got, apart from my in-laws. If there's something wrong, I'm there and I'm not going anywhere, so save your breath.'
'When did he grow so authoritative?' said Severus exasperatedly. He rounded on Sirius. 'You should not have said anything. It could simply be another …'
'Ac-tin-ic Ke-ra-tosis,' said Sirius. 'That … doesn't … hurt … you.'
And there was no more to be said.
In Dr Greg Quinn's office that same day, Severus had his usual bloods taken, followed by a skin exam and a shave biopsy.
'Hell, Severus.' Greg sealed the slide and turned to his patient. 'I'm tempted not to wait for the results. I'm going to book you in for the full boat: node biopsy, PET scan, MRI, the works, and as soon as possible.' He offered Severus a mirror. 'Have you taken a decent look at this?'
'I — I thought it might be another …'
'You mean you *hoped* it might just be another Actinic Keratosis,' scolded his GP. The American muggle-born's blue eyes flashed in annoyance. He'd been treating Severus for almost as long as he and Sirius had lived in Dunmanifestin, seeing him once every one to three months as was required for a patient on long-term immunosuppressants, and they had become as close as any doctor and patient can be.
'Severus Snape, you're an intelligent man, a bloody powerful wizard and a multiple organ recipient, for Merlin's sweet sake. You've got a red mole on the back of your neck, measuring 25 bleeding millimetres, which hurt like hell when I touched it. You tried to hide it but it hurt all right. You'll be lucky if it is only another AK.' He paused for breath and held up a hand to forestall any protest. 'Get that young man of yours in here right now,' he ordered. 'He is Harry Potter, isn't he? I'm going to call in all the favours I can, but it won't hurt a bit having him beside me while I do it. Now get out of here.'
When Severus emerged from the office he turned to Harry and intoned,
'You are summoned,' before sitting down beside Sirius and taking his hand.
The following week blurred by in a flurry of tests, scans and biopsies. Dr Quinn had contacts in both worlds and, in the wizarding one at least, it did not hurt to have the Chosen One on his side.
Sirius had insisted on renting capacious hotel space in London, within walking distance of the hospital, to obviate the need for apparition. Backed up by Severus, he had also insisted that Harry return to work until the results were known, at which time they could discuss next steps.
The leaves on the stately oaks which lined Dunmanifestin's driveway were just beginning to show their autumn colour when Dr Quinn, accompanied by an unknown female, appeared at their door late in the afternoon of the day they returned home.
'Please don't sugar coat this,' said Severus as they sat at tea in the dining room. 'Just tell me the facts and we can proceed from there.'
Dr Quinn used the crisp, white napkin and sighed. 'That was delicious, Severus. Only my mom could bake a better apple pie.'
He withdrew a folder from his slim briefcase and opened it. 'Okay, the facts. The mole on your neck is a squamous cell carcinoma, measuring 25 Millimetres at its widest point and four millimetres thick. The excisional biopsy assessed it as Clark Level V because it involves the fatty tissue under your skin. The lymph biopsy reveals that the cancer has spread to the parotid glands and lymph nodes on both sides. The PET indicates that it is also in the base of your skull and your spine, and the MRI shows early lung involvement.'
'Anything else?' whispered Severus.
'How can … such a … tiny thing cause … so … much … damage?' wondered Sirius.
'That's cancer,' explained the woman, who turned out to be Greg's wife — a muggle Oncologist named Caroline.
'And prognosis?' asked Severus in that same whisper.
'Poor,' replied Greg who, Sirius reflected, sounded more upset than Severus.
Then the doctor's words hit the forefront of his consciousness and he rose abruptly.
'I have to call Harry,' he announced tonelessly as he stumbled from the room where his life and his world, as he had come to know and cherish it, had just ground to a halt.
Author's NoteThe irony that the Fantasie's Scherzo movement was mostly in a minor key was not lost on this author, hence the undertone of sadness in this writing. I hope it was not lost on you, either.