'What does that mean?'
Ginny and Harry, having seen their children off on the Hogwarts Express just that day, now sat in the dining room with Severus, Sirius, Greg and Caroline.
'It means that there is only one way this is going to end,' explained Severus dryly. 'It is only the how and when which REQUIRES discussion.'
'Accurately, if brutally put,' replied Greg.
'So, what are the options?' demanded a white-faced Harry.
'Given the multiple sites and the fact that Severus here is taking drugs to suppress his immune system, surgery is pretty much out,' replied Caroline. 'We have chemotherapy, radiation therapy …'
'Or nothing at all,' finished Severus.
'No!' cried Harry and Sirius in unison.
Severus ignored them and gazed steadily at the Doctor and the Oncologist. 'If I do nothing, how long?'
'We don't generally like to give estimates,' began Caroline. 'However, in your case we genuinely do not know. I'll say that up front. Firstly (she ticked off her fingers) you're a wizard, and they don't often develop cancers. However, they're becoming more prevalent as the population of muggle-borns increases, and the pure blood families continue to in-breed. Secondly, you're the only known wizard in history to have received organ donation. We know how to treat muggles in this category, but we have zero idea of how you may be affected. Being married to a muggle-born wizard (she threw her husband a small smile) means I do have some idea of how magic might help you through this and, of course, Greg has more. You'll be a lot better off than muggles because the remediating potions we have will let us manage your pain and other symptoms without sacrificing your awareness.'
Severus began to laugh. 'Oh, I am also very aware of those,' he chuckled. 'I make them. In fact, if … if you order them from St Mungo's, or any of the private facilities around here, it is likely that … that …'
He covered his face with his hands, and Sirius immediately arose and went to him.
'We'll leave you now,' said Caroline, rising to her feet. 'Greg will look in tomorrow. The sooner you decide on your course of action, the sooner to begin. However, Greg will drop off some potions when he comes in tomorrow.' She hugged Ginny and Harry, and laid a hand on Severus' and Sirius' shoulders before exiting with her husband.
The next fortnight was a busy one at Dunmanifestin, rivalling the activity of the holidays when the Potter children usually visited. Harry and Ginny had insisted on staying until all care arrangements could be made, including for Sirius who was in no state to adequately care for himself.
Predictably, Severus had quickly decided not to seek any treatment other than palliative, causing Sirius once again to lock himself in the library until he could be talked around by Ginny. She and Harry had carried on resignedly, knowing that given the advanced state of the disease, and the uniqueness of Severus' situation, it was probably the only choice which would leave him with any quality of life for whatever time remained. It took longer for Sirius to see the logic in this approach, but he too had been forced to reluctantly accept.
For his part, Severus, following his crying jag that first day, had become eerily calm. He had gone about his affairs in the same meticulous way he might have conducted business or organised a trip. Determined to keep up his usual routine for as long as possible, he continued playing music with Sirius in the evenings, while during the day he brewed potions — this time stockpiling them for his own use while continuing to fulfil orders as increasing infirmity allowed.
'I trust you are continuing to learn that Beethoven,' he chided one evening as Sirius sat morosely at the square grand in their private parlour. 'Your mission is to perfect it before I die.'
'Fuck that!' spat his companion. 'I'm not-doing-anything-that … takes … me … away… from … you.'
'Have no fear on that score, M,' admonished his friend. 'I intend to establish myself up here and watch you do it.'
'oho!' cried Sirius. 'Is that a challenge, my beloved C?'
Severus merely smirked and held out his arms. 'My dying wish is that you play that Hammerklavier for me — from memory.'
'Well, of course from … memory,' laughed Sirius tearfully. 'I can hardly read the … bloody score … while I'm playing, can I?'
Severus had reluctantly accepted a nurse for himself, a gardener and a general carer for Sirius and their ongoing domestic needs. The gardener was easily acquired — a local from the village. However, the carer and the nurse would need to be hired from the wizarding world, which could take some time if Severus proved to be as demanding as Sirius expected.
Only eight days into the fortnight, they were surprised to receive a tall, chestnut-haired woman called Grace, who happened to be Greg's twin sister. A muggle-born witch, she was also a qualified palliative care nurse, and had come instantly from Boston at Greg's call.
'Figured it'd be easier than trying to hire someone, given the urgency,' was all she said by way of explanation. To Sirius' relief, Severus seemed to approve of her, while she liked them both.
The carer turned out to be a Hufflepuff woman whom they had vaguely known from school. Two years ahead of them, Pauline Winterburn was a self-described Bohemian, living from job to job in any part of the world where her growing collection of skills was welcome. She regaled Sirius with the stories of her travels, which proved an engaging distraction whenever his mood took a downward turn.
Just one day after the Potters had finally left, Severus and Sirius received none other than Hermione Granger-Weasley, Minister for Magic. She hugged them both in her usual fashion and, accepting a cup of tea from Pauline, got down to business.
'I — I have a proposition to make to you both,' she began tentatively. 'I've been thinking about it ever since Narcissa said what she did about you two being a symbol of hope.'
Severus huffed; Sirius shook his head.
'No, you actually are,' she continued. 'Here are two men; one a former Death Eater, the other a pure-blood who renounced his family's blood supremacy ideals. Two former enemies who've been living together in blissful harmony …'
Sirius began to giggle. 'Shall-we-tell-her-about-the-lawn mower?'
'Mostly harmony, then,' she continued unabashed. 'You are incredible musicians and you also make fabulous music together. Harmony again.'
'And what do you propose?' enquired Severus, giving Sirius a poke to quiet him.
'I want to have a documentary made about the two of you,' announced Hermione. 'It will give the wizarding world hope that things can, must and will change for the better, and I would love it if you would give one public performance — the same material you gave at Christmas all those years ago.'
'Beethoven's Ninth Symphony, Ode to Joy,' whispered Sirius.
'And that Schubert,' added Hermione enthusiastically.
'As I recall,' said Severus silkily, 'you already have video of the two of us entertaining the masses at the Midsummer event.'
Hermione had the grace to blush. 'Of course,' she said. 'Can you blame me? You play so rarely; I had no idea when or if I would ever see and hear you do it again.'
'Touche,' sighed Severus. 'But now you ask this.'
'It would be professionally and tastefully done,' reassured Hermione. 'Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan already have a good deal of experience in this field. They'd jump at the chance to do something like this.'
'And had you a venue for this public performance?' continued Severus equably.
'Minerva McGonagall has already agreed that we can use Hogwarts' Great Hall,' replied Hermione. 'Having the performance at Hogwarts would let the children watch, though they would need to do it from their house common-rooms so the space could be filled with the audience.'
'Why wouldn't we do it from here and stream it over the net?' Sirius wanted to know.
'No!' Severus was adamant. 'I will not have strangers gawking at our music room. If we are to put ourselves on public display it will be in a public place or not at all.'
'So, you'll do it then?' Hermione was ecstatic.
'I have no doubt that Sirius will want to, if only to have the chance to perform,' sighed Severus wearily. 'I, however, will require a few days to consider. As to the film, tell Thomas and Finnigan they may visit, and then we shall see.'
'And … and … and we-can-also broadcast it on … the …net,' Sirius announced enthusiastically.
'By no means whatever,' retorted Severus firmly. 'I do not wish to become the centre of a circus.'
'But you don't understand,' cried Hermione rising to her feet. 'That is a brilliant idea. We can easily disguise the Great Hall and change your names for the internet broadcast.'
'No!' Severus' voice drilled into her brain, latched onto long-disused levers and pulled. However, this was no longer the frightened muggle-born student, so eager to please; he was now dealing with the Minister for Magic who was used to having her way.'
'Hear me out, please,' she replied in the kind of soft, firm voice which they were sure had her staff quaking in their boots.
'What do either of you know about current affairs in the muggle world?'
'Not a great deal,' replied Severus dryly. 'My time has been somewhat preoccupied.'
'Oh, oh, oh, I do,' cried Sirius. 'I-have-heaps-of-Muggle-friends-on-the-net. There's this … this … virus.'
Hermione nodded. 'It's called Covid 19 and it's spread all over the muggle world. People have died; others have been permanently disabled and countries have been in various states of lockdown for ages. Imagine only being able to go to the supermarket to buy food – and nothing else. There are vaccines coming, but the muggle world is already in despair. They need hope that things will someday get better. Seeing and hearing the two of you will help them forget their troubles for ninety minutes.'
'Oh, yes!' cried Sirius, leaping up and flinging his arms around Hermione. 'Hope … is … so — so …' He broke off as tears sprang to his eyes. 'I … had … none … before Severus … came.' And he buried his head in her shoulder.
'Come here,' ordered Severus, holding out his own arms.
When Sirius had quieted, Severus turned his weary face to Hermione. 'In all our life together, I have been able to deny this man very little, and it seems that here is no exception. However, I have a condition — and he knows what it is.' He released Sirius and turned to look sternly at Hermione.
'And I wish it understood that if circumstances had been … other than … what they are, I should have vetoed this proposal outright.'
Hermione nodded, and said nothing. When Professor Snape made an appearance, it was often the safest course.
So, it was settled. The concert was scheduled for 2 November.
'All Souls Day,' observed Severus wryly. 'How appropriate. That does not leave us much time for rehearsal.'
'But we know it,' countered Sirius, which Severus took to mean that they already knew the material by heart and just required a refresher.
The following two months were some of the busiest of their lives. Dean and Seamus arrived three days after Hermione's visit, and they spent a part of each day with the couple, filming, interviewing and observing.
The rehearsal schedule Severus set was punishing ,particularly considering the progress of his illness and the fact that, as Sirius daily (and uselessly) reminded him, they already knew the material by heart.
Part of that demanding schedule, however, relied on Sirius' continued work on that Everest of Sonatas, the Hammerklavier. Every time he tried to tackle the Grosse Fugue he was stymied, either by failure of memory, or technique, or just plain failure. Had anyone ever succeeded in memorising this piece? He didn't think so.
Meanwhile, changes were going on inside the house. The guest wing had been converted for the use of the live-in staff, causing not a few pangs from both men. Their own wing was also being redefined with the help of magic. Walls had been removed from their two separate bedrooms, making the space into one large area with a bed at either end and their shared bathroom and kitchenette along the back wall. This facilitated easy movement of wheeled furniture and equipment throughout the space, and even onto the balcony as necessary, though the weather was rapidly becoming too windy and cold for that.
As the date for the performance approached, and the rehearsal schedule ramped up a notch (Severus was determined to squeeze every ounce of emotion and technique out of their performance), Dean and Seamus started sitting them down and having them talk about their childhoods. The aim was to establish their diverse backgrounds and the irony of the pure-blood being the one to gravitate towards the light. This was far harder for Severus than for Sirius, and he repeatedly thanked Merlin that Sirius had plenty of musical rehearsal of his own to occupy him and keep him out of the way for hours on end if necessary. It had not taken him long to decide that, if he was going to do this, it would be all or nothing.
He spent a morning at Spinners End with the boys, showing them the sights (such as they were) and explaining his background. That afternoon he took to his bed and listened to Sirius working on the Hammerklavier. Despite all the grumbling, he could hear definite improvement.
For Sirius, the historical part of the filming was more problematic, simply because he had given away, sold or destroyed everything which linked him to the noble and most ancient house of Black. Both boys later reflected on what he might have achieved had he not been damaged by close contact with the Veil during the Battle of the Department of Mysteries. It was left to other powerful pure-blood families, like the Malfoys, to fill in any gaps.
Halloween, a problematic time for both men, was rapidly approaching when the boys moved onto the Hogwarts section of the men's lives. This involved talking endlessly to professors, former students and any family friends or associates they could find.
Two days before Halloween, Severus spiked his first fever. Greg had been expecting it, but it caused enough concern that they wondered for a day or two whether the performance would need to be postponed. However, the fever broke on Halloween night, leaving Severus tired and listless, but more determined than ever.
He and Sirius spent a quiet evening cuddled up on their favourite squishy green sofa, not bothering with music, reading or even conversation. Being in each other's company was enough.
On the day of the performance, a Ministry car arrived to drive the performers to meet the Hogwarts Express from London, which would ferry performers and honoured guests. Hermione and Harry had been instrumental in organising this, following Caroline's recommendation that apparition or multiple portkeys over such a distance would prove too great a risk for Severus. Hermione supervised the fitting of an entire carriage for the couple's use, complete with recliners for them and their carers.
Lily had already excitedly owled her Grumpy and Pop that two grand pianos had appeared in the Great Hall that morning, and that the children had been allowed to help decorate the space for the arrival of the guests and dignitaries. She also expressed her indignation at being forced to watch the performance from the Gryffindor Tower rather than the Great Hall. She and the boys were spirited into the Great Hall at the eleventh hour as an additional surprise for the performers.
The photo for the Daily Prophet showed two tall, slender, elderly-looking wizards with long, salt-and-pepper hair and thin faces which showed deeply-chiselled lines around eyes, mouths and noses. Each man wore black dress robes — one trimmed with silver and emerald buttons, the other trimmed with gold and ruby buttons. The shorter of the two was extremely thin and pale, which only served to accentuate his onyx eyes which, while smiling, seemed also to examine you very closely as if awarding you marks out of 10. The grey eyes of the taller man seemed to gaze everywhere at once, and the smile which lit them seemed to proclaim his love for everything he saw. Each man had his hair clubbed 18th-century style with ribbon of the same trim as his robe — simple but elegant. Harry later acquired the original and gave it pride of place on his parlour wall.
Excerpts from the accompanying article, which appeared with the photo the next day, ran thus.
From the first movement's soft, tremulous opening to the euphoric conclusion, love was in evidence — for the music, the composer and for one another. In technique, expression and interpretation, their performance was flawless. But it was their synchronicity, born of long rehearsal and longer friendship, which was most in evidence. In occasionally closing one's eyes, I could believe that there was only one instrument at work instead of two. However, it was the expressions on both faces — complementing rather than mirroring — which lent a heartbreakingly tender visual counterpoint to the whole. Where one would scowl in concentration, the other seemed to know, and would turn slightly to offer a warm smile of encouragement — this despite one of the performers being totally blind. When, at other times, the sheer euphoria of the occasion threatened to lift the one from his bench, the other could be seen to tip his head slightly in his partner's direction — all without missing a single note.
At the conclusion of the Beethoven, both men lifted their arms and rose to their feet to acknowledge their audience, whose standing ovation lasted a full five minutes. When the hall had quieted, each of them gave a short speech, here set down verbatim.
Mr Snape began: 'Ladies and gentlemen, I was minding my business, playing the solo version of this work, when this man (he poked his partner), in typical fashion wandering out of bounds, discovered me — a shock from which neither of us has ever recovered.' Laughter interrupted and he was forced to wait for it to subside before continuing, 'We offer this performance in the spirit of Messrs Schiller and Beethoven, as an embrace to the whole world. On a personal note, I also offer it in tribute to a man who has shown me, every day of our lives, the experience and true meaning of joy.'
Then, Mr Black, blinded and brain-injured at the Battle of the Department of Mysteries in 1996, read in Braille from a prepared script — a printed copy of which he has generously provided to the Prophet.
'Our encore is far more personal to us. Unlike we, Franz Schubert was unlucky and unrequited in love. He died far too young.' Here he paused to re-establish control. 'But he left behind many treasures, including this gentle treatise on pain, love and longing which he called a Fantasie in F Minor. So we now charge you to cherish one another every day in word, thought and deed. Then the world really will have hope. Thank you for coming.'
Mr Snape then moved onto Mr Black's piano bench, and they gave the most synchronous and intimate performance of the Fantasie this reporter has ever heard. One had the distinct feeling we were being allowed to witness something intensely private and rare — a feeling not lost on the audience if the length of the silence between conclusion and the tentative beginnings of the applause was any indication. …
The photo and article were augmented by a sidebar which contained a short biography of each of them, along with a family photo showing Harry and Ginevra Potter, Minister Hermione Granger-Weasley and her husband, Ronald and all their children — gathered around their surrogate grandfathers.
'I am relieved that's over,' sighed Severus when they were finally left alone in their castle guest quarters.
'Where are we?' asked Sirius.
'I think,' replied his partner, gazing around, 'that this was once old Slughorn's rooms when he was our Potions Master. He took new ones during his latter tenure.'
'Any regrets?' Sirius wanted to know as he laid a tired head against Severus' shoulder.
'None whatever,' replied the other sleepily.
Next day, despite Minerva McGonagall's repeated entreaties to remain a few days, both wizards lay in their recliners, being gently rocked by the Hogwarts Express as it wended its way south.
'Happy birthday, Min,' said Severus, handing him a small box.
What's this?'
The box had disgorged a carved wooden figurehead of something Sirius could not immediately identify.
'The Tree of Life,' supplied Severus. 'It will be affixed to our fortepiano so it will be in front of your face every time you play — a reminder to live after I am gone.'
'C, you can't ask …'
'But I do,' insisted Severus. He reached for Sirius' hand and grasped it as firmly as he could. 'Listen to me, Min. Sixty-one is still young for a wizard — especially a pure-blood. You potentially have more than double those years still to live, so you will do just that. You will take care of yourself and our growing family …'
'EAsyforyoutosay,' muttered Sirius, dropping the carving down the side of the recliner.
'I saw that, Min,' admonished Severus, failing to keep the sad tone from his voice. But he rallied in an instant, fixing his partner with a stern glare. 'Oh, and you will give me the exact date on which you intend to perform Beethoven's Sonata Op. 106.'
'C, you are such a stubborn git,' chided Sirius, his eyes glistening. 'How does 9 January sound?'
'Perfect,' replied Severus, tears in his own eyes.'
As coloured lights began to pierce the increasing darkness which heralded the approach of Christmas all over Britain, the seemingly endless work for the documentary continued along with Sirius' equally endless practice. The imposition of a deadline for their private project had forced him to dig in his metaphorical crampons, and his progress was further fuelled by Severus' increasing frailty.
In his turn, Severus several attempts to have a serious discussion about Sirius' future were repeatedly rebuffed.
'One thing at a time, C,' was all Sirius would say any time Severus tried to raise the subject.
Christmas itself proved a chaotic affair, the family having been sorely disappointed at finding that Severus would not be available to celebrate his birthday with them. All the family, including the Malfoys, and this year augmented by Dean and Seamus, Caroline and Greg, showed up at Dunmanifestin at various points over the holiday — commandeering outbuildings, the library and music room as necessary.
The chaos was only increased when Sirius, who had persuaded Hugo Granger-Weasley to unshrink his new trampoline, broke his leg when he jumped far too high and landed wrongly.
'Thank Merlin you're a wizard,' scolded Greg as he mended the break. 'Otherwise, it'd be a bloody great plaster cast and eight weeks recovery with a moon boot and crutches for you, my lad.'
'Never done that before,' was all Sirius said by way of explanation, which Severus took to mean 'I've never tried that before, and just wanted to know what it would be like.' And that was that.
Crotchety and Minimum had the house to themselves again from 2 January, giving Sirius just one week to perfect his performance. Every day, much to Severus' chagrin, he would lock himself in their music room, insisting that it would not be a fit birthday present without some element of surprise.
The owls arrived as usual, containing birthday wishes and small gifts, and Severus even managed a couple of hours in his lab on the date of his birthday.
That evening, Pauline and Grace had made themselves scarce, knowing that something very special and private was afoot.
They had left Severus propped up with pillows at one end of the beloved squishy green sofa, facing the fortepiano. He was pleased to note the installation of the figurehead as he watched his Minimum fiddle with the recording equipment which he had insisted on using so that Severus could afterwards play the performance as many times as he wished.
Unbeknownst to Sirius, Severus had added a strategically-placed mirror which allowed him to see his Sirius' face as he played. Unbeknownst to Severus, Sirius had found out about the mirror and, with Grace's help, had added a strategically-placed camera so that he could later have someone describe Severus' reactions as the work was being performed. He felt it was only fair.
From the opening Fortissimo bars of the Allegro, Severus had time to think, by Merlin that's quick, and then he was lost.
The first two movements, the Allegro and the Scherzo Vivace Assai, were all Sirius: joy, fire, bluster and cheek, with a healthy helping of pure musical flare. Severus could not but marvel at Minimum's sheer gall in trying to honour Beethoven's insane initial tempo marking of 138 BPM; it seemed he was getting away with it admirably.
Then the third movement, the Adagio Sostenuto began, and Severus' mood plummeted. He'd known it would; this had been the movement which had stymied him (he'd not even attempted to learn the Fugue). "Mausoleum of Sorrow" "Apotheosis of pain". How appropriate. Tears coursed down his wasted cheeks as he gazed as his Minimum — himself lost so completely in the music that unnoticed tears shone on his own face. Love and pain sprang from every note, so that neither of them noticed nor minded the 22 minutes it took to complete the movement. This was rather longer than most, though not unusually long.
The fourth, (the Largo – Allegro – Prestissimo, Allegro Risoluto)began like awakening from a dream. The video shows Severus jerking upright and coming to attention for the anticipated fugue. When it hit — and it did hit (Sirius once again did his best to honour those impossible tempo marks), Severus felt as if he were on a run-away train, speeding along at the very edge of control. One false move might spell disaster. If asked, Severus would have described Sirius' focus and concentration as palpable. The great leap followed by the silence at bar 239 shows Severus mouthing 'My God" (You can hear him breathe the words if wearing headphones).
Not a word was spoken at the conclusion of the performance; Sirius merely switched off the equipment, closed the piano and crossed to Severus.
They fell asleep on the green sofa, locked in one another's arms, their tears drying on each other's cheeks — still not having spoken. No words were necessary.
During the next two days, Severus once again tried to approach the subject of Sirius' future without him, but Sirius kept dismissing it. Severus was still relatively well despite his frailty. There was plenty of time.
On the morning of 13 January, three days after the birthday performance, Grace came to awaken them both as usual and found Sirius lifeless and cold in his bed. A small aneurism in an artery at the base of his brain had, apparently, only been waiting its time. According to the autopsy it had been there for many years. The fact that Sirius would never have noticed it was, of course, no comfort to Severus who remained dry-eyed and largely silent all throughout the preparations and funeral ceremony.
'Black, you complete arse. How dare you steal a march on me — again. You had better be waiting else there will be trouble,' he whispered as he watched the casket finally disappear behind the curtain.
Severus, stoic by nature, lingered far longer than any of his family expected, particularly given the shock wrought by Sirius' sudden passing.
The documentary of their lives together, called Harmony and Hope, was screened to the wizarding world at the end of that summer. It received glowing reviews in the Daily Prophet and was the subject of much talk on the wizarding wireless for weeks afterwards. All the family waxed lyrical about what a treasure it was and how proud Sirius would have been to see it. Severus did not watch it.
He did enjoy a most pleasant summer holiday with the grandies as Molly persisted in referring to them, however.
When school started again, on hearing that young James had been appointed Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team like his father and grandfather before him, Severus sent him the very latest in racing brooms together with a note from Grumpy and Pop.
As far as possible, he kept up with the changes in both the wizarding and muggle worlds, shaking his head at the myriad mutations and responses to the ongoing Covid pandemic and wondering whether little things such as their concert had had any effect at all.
Said concert was approaching its first anniversary when everyone finally knew it was time.
Another woman, a local Shamanic Healer, had started to appear regularly at Severus' bedside. He had requested, much to the surprise of the family, that she midwife his soul at the proper time.
'I received advice from Sirius,' was all the explanation they were going to get.
The evening of 27 October 2021 had darkened early, and the little Potter family was gathered with the Shamanka around Severus' bed. It now occupied the centre of what had been his and Sirius' shared private space and was lit by magical candles scented with his favourite sandalwood and myrrh.
All other farewells having been taken, these final minutes were just for Severus and his adoptive family.
The ceremony began with final messages. Each family member approached and, taking the almost-transparent hands, leant to receive theirs.
'Harry?'
'Yes Severus?'
'Always remember to be yourself, no matter what others may think or believe. You are a beacon of hope, and will always be as long as you are your truest self. Genevra.'
Here, Severus.'
'Do remember to rest every now and then. You will be useful to no one — least of all yourself — if you wear yourself out. Young James.'
'Right here, Grumpy?'
'Try not to focus solely on Quidditch. Your mission is to find other sources of talent inside you. Assuredly, they exist. Albus.'
'Here, Grumpy.'
'Like your father, you struggle to retain your sense of self. Do not let the thoughts and beliefs of others dictate what you are. It matters not where you find love; as long as you find it. Lily?'
Instead of simply taking the limp hand, she hopped up beside him on the bed and buried her face in his thinning hair.
'My little one, you were aptly named Lily Luna. Try not to be too ruled by the moon. First, look inside yourself for the wisdom that is there. Then look to others. You will know who they are at the proper time. I will always be with you.'
'I'll miss you something awful, Severus,' whispered Harry.
'Don't say that,' he whispered back. 'I'm not going far.'
Then they all stood back while the Shamanka lit a special candle and began to hum softly to Severus. His eyes closed, and the family watched in awe as her hands moved over him with skilled, sure strokes. A sigh went up as, against all probability, the room lightened to almost daylight level.
'Min. At last,' breathed Severus just before his soul, in one sure movement, slipped from his body — and departed.
Epilogue: Eight BarsUpon packing up the house, Ginny Potter discovered a long wooden chest which contained three items: Severus' Order of Merlin (which looked as if it had never even been opened), Sirius' wand and a note in Braille.
When they had it transcribed, they read, "My wonderful, mercurial Minimum: the things we leave behind are of little importance. However, those who remain are priceless. Most crucial (if I may be permitted such an indulgence) are the things we do while we live. Remember my injunction: take care of yourself, take care of our family and remember that I love you.
Your Crotchety."
They buried the wand and the Order of Merlin in the simple tomb with their owners.
Then they had a new frame made to hold the Daily Prophet photo and the note, which they hung on the wall as both tribute to and reminder of Crotchety and Minimum.
Author's NoteIf you have come this far, I thank you with all my heart. All feedback is most welcome. BTW, Tempo Primo, in this context, basically means 'As you Were'. Aroha nui, The Kiwi Celt.