Chapter Twenty-One

Peter Pettigrew was dead.

No.

Worse than dead, if what Harry had heard about the dementor's kiss was true; his soul sucked from his body, snuffing out his very essence and leaving nothing behind but an empty shell of a man, with no self or hope of even an afterlife.

Harry felt bad.

It was surely too extreme a punishment. The Minister for Magic, Bartemius Crouch, had ordered it almost instantly upon learning of Pettigrew's capture and did not entertain returning Pettigrew to Azkaban for even a night; certainly, he would give no consideration to a further trial, taking account of his most recent crimes since his escape. Harry had overheard Professor McGonagall saying to Snape that she believed the Minister for Magic expected that the sentence would be carried out, then and there, at Hogwarts by one of the many dementors still stationed at this school – this is what they were there for, after all, to guard against the escaped inmates, even if Pettigrew hadn't been one of those from last years breakout- and had Dumbledore not had him escorted by Ministry personnel from the grounds, he probably would have been.

Harry couldn't concentrate.

Persistent vegetative state.

That is what Malachi had said to Harry, the clinical description of Pettigrew's current state of being. His sentence.

Harry was cold, as he realised that Pettigrew's sentence was akin to what his Uncle Sirius had once told him about his father; the he wasn't there anymore. His soul was gone.

The Minister for Magic had handed down a sentence, which now left Peter Pettigrew in the same, hopeless condition as that of James Potter.

"Potter, you are not even trying."

Harry squeezed his eyes shut, telling himself to get it together, as Snape always said; get it under control.

But the guilt, the uneasiness. It just wouldn't be shaken.

Harry was the one who had gotten Pettigrew discovered and caught and … kissed.

He opened his eyes, green eyes meeting black and he nodded; he doubted he'd be able to get it any more 'together' than he had managed in that moment.

"Legillimens."

James Potter, his father, stared straight through him from a hospital bed. Harry was shouting at his Uncle Sirius and his mum was holding him. And then Harry was sobbing in her arms, while she whispered and cried alongside him as she held him tighter in the corridors of St Mungo's.

The office was back in view.

Snape regarded Harry, seemingly curiously for a moment, while Harry just drew in a breath, lifting his chin slightly.

Harry barely even remembered that; the one and only time his mum had taken him to see his dad. It wasn't a painful memory, no, though he did remember the unease and fright he had felt in the aftermath, as he had begged his Uncle Remus not to let his mum and Sirius ever take him there again. He remembered knocking down the picture of his father that had always graced the surface of his shelves in his bedroom, the sound of the glass frame smashing, and the relief he felt that he would never have to look at it anymore.

It didn't hurt.

Harry's mind was still on someone else. The person whom he had had a hand in inflicting the same fate upon.

Did Pettigrew have family? A wife to weep over the loss of him; a child, a son, who would never know their father?

Snape's eyes narrowed; "You are thinking about Pettigrew."

Harry swallowed.

They didn't talk about the memories.

But then, they weren't talking about memories here, just what the current situation had evoked. And it bore down on him, so much so that Harry couldn't help himself.

"Yeah."

"It troubles you. His sentence."

"Yes, Sir."

"Why?"

"Because…because it's wrong. A fate worse than death. He's lost his soul. He's gone. Just like…like my dad."

Snape regarded him, guardedly, for a moment.

After a moment he shifted, clearing his throat; "One might argue that by joining the Dark Lord, Pettigrew lost his soul long ago."

"I don't believe that, Sir."

Snape said nothing, just stared back at him, unreadable.

"People can't take away people's souls. And they shouldn't order monsters to do it for them either; not like that. Our souls are what makes us. It's the only thing we ever really have."

A silence fell upon them at Harry's assertion.

After a second, Snape spoke, his voice seeming to lose that edge that was ever-present, that Harry was pretty much immune to, by now; "Your father hasn't lost his soul, Potter. Only his mind." Snape glanced away, eyes narrowing somewhat; "What has happened with Pettigrew; it is not the same."

"I feel bad, though, Sir. I did that."

"What utter nonsense, Boy," Snape rounded on him, instantly; "You cannot seriously hold yourself in any way accountable for what has happened to Pettigrew. That man did not only sell his soul; he sold you out in the process. Your entire family."

He deserved what he got.

It was unspoken, but Harry could almost read it there, plain as day in Snape's eyes, and there was something else there that Harry had never seen before.

Vulnerability.

Harry frowned.

He wondered if he knew Pettigrew – well, of course he did, Harry realised, as he had gone to school with his father after all – but maybe Snape felt something for the other man, perhaps there had not been as acrimonious a relationship between those two as there had been with Snape and his father and Sirius.

Maybe that was why Snape didn't want to reveal him; why he told Harry to hush up when he had first gone to him about the map and his nightmares.

Or, maybe, what Malachi had hinted at was true and the 'Dark Lord' title that the Potions Professor really did reveal the truth behind Snape; that he had been – or, was, Harry felt himself uneasy at the thought however much he doubted it – a Death Eater and he had served alongside Pettigrew – and Regulus Black – in the ranks of evil, some years before.

But then, Snape was not looking at him as if he were mourning the loss of Peter Pettigrew.

Not at all.

If anything, the flash of vulnerability had revealed something else; hate.

But it was gone as quickly as it had come, Snape composing himself in the mere seconds it took Harry to spot it, ever in control.

"It has been several weeks now, Mr Potter, since our lessons began. I suppose I must concede there has been an improvement," Snape said, smoothly turning the subject back to the lesson at hand; "Nonetheless, we are far from our final goal. Have you been practising?"

"I…I've had exams, Sir."

"I shall take that as a no," Snape said, sounding neither surprised nor annoyed as he walked to his desk; rather, he sounded disappointed, which actually stung Harry more.

"I will though," Harry said, determinedly; "All summer, if I have to."

"Indeed you will," Snape conceded, not looking up at him as he flicked through the parchments he returned with. He stopped in front of him, lifting his chin to look down at Harry, in a considering manner; "Though without the presence of a legillimens to do so, that shall prove less than effective. We cannot leave you susceptible to manipulation for the entirety of the summer. As such, here is your homework assignment for the holidays."

Snape handed over the bundle of parchments.

Harry took them, eyeing the title; "Meditation."

His voice belied all the scepticism he felt.

"Indeed. Through meditation, one is able to achieve a state of calmness that will allow you to exercise some control over those unruly emotions of yours."

"Do you meditate, Sir?"

Harry couldn't help the little quiver his voice made when he asked it, trying to hold back his amusement at the mental image the very idea brought to mind; Snape sitting, cross legged, in the middle of his office in the dungeons, arms outstretched, and fingers joined to create little 'O' shapes on either side of him, as a 'hmmm' emerged from his lips.

Harry snickered, before he could stop himself, before Snape had even had the chance to answer.

Snape's lips twitched, his own eyes dancing with amusement also, which surprised Harry and only made it harder for him to hold back outright laughter.

"No," Snape said, seriously, even if he still looked amused; "I have the good fortune of not being at the mercy of every emotion under the sun. You, however, cannot boast the same. As such, this is your assignment. Every night, before bedtime, you will follow these steps, achieve the sense of calmness that meditation allows you to reach and, only then, when you have the ability to master and get your emotions under control, will you allow yourself to sleep."

"Every night?"

"Every night."

"I have a life, you know."

"One which we are both determined to preserve," Snape countered, with a raised eyebrow, before he repeated, articulating each word carefully; "Every night, Mr Potter."

Harry stared down at the parchments, fingering through them, uncertainly.

"And so, concludes the lesson," Snape said, his voice quieter, before he turned and walked away.

Harry watched Snape return to his desk, taking a seat and plucking up a quill, dipping it into the waiting jar and beginning to scrawl, as if Harry had already left.

That was his dismissal then.

He had no classes to go to. The Hogwarts Express was scheduled to leave in only a couple of hours. Not that Harry took the train home, not ever; his Uncle Remus would be taking him. All Harry had left to do was to add the few items that remained upon his bed to his case and that would be him done; he had packed everything else away days before.

Harry found he had no inclination to leave.

He glanced down at the parchments, reading the first few lines of what he had been given, while Snape continued ignoring the fact that he was even there.

Harry glanced at Snape, uncertainly, almost shyly, before he drew in a breath and took a step closer to the desk; "Professor?"

Snape looked at him immediately.

"I…I've never done this before."

Snape only stared.

Harry swallowed, lifting the parchments; "Meditation. I…maybe you could…maybe you could go over it with me?"

Snape regarded him for a moment, his expression entirely unreadable.

Harry didn't back down, even though he felt a little flutter of embarrassment, of nervousness beginning to make itself know; that he had actually asked Snape for help. Willingly asked to extend this time, this lesson, for him to do so.

Snape cleared his throat, placing the quill he held down on the desk, and got to his feet.

"Very well."

The Potions Professor stepped out from behind the desk, approaching him, and with a quick flick of a suddenly-drawn wand, the chair beside Harry was transfigured into a large green cushion.

"Sit."

Harry immediately did as he was told. He lowered himself onto it, inwardly marvelling at the comfort, though he didn't allow himself to sink in and enjoy the feeling of bouncing on clouds, no. He was still on guard, sitting up as straight as he could manage as he looked up at Snape, who rolled his eyes.

"Relax, Potter. That is the point."

Harry did, as best he could.

"In these practises, it is most effective to begin with concentration upon a single focus point; a repetitive sound, a flame, it does not matter, so long as you focus your mind upon it."

"Alright."

"Alright," Snape repeated, lifting his eyes upwards somewhat, and Harry was going to say something in retort, but Snape went on; "Close your eyes."

"How am I supposed to focus on something if my eyes are closed?"

"Close your eyes."

Harry sighed.

Then did so.

"In this instance, we shall use your breath as your concentration point. Do not attempt to change your natural breathing pattern, Potter," Snape quickly added, when Harry couldn't help but do so, counting the breaths as he unconsciously made them more pronounced; "Relax and feel them and focus. Think only of them."

It didn't take long for Harry's mind to wander.

To Remus who would maybe start to wonder where he was, if Harry didn't arrive on time.

To Malachi who would probably be waiting to speak to him, to say goodbye, even if they already had planned to see one another a ton during the summer anyway.

To his mum, who would, no doubt, be making his favourite meal for his dinner tonight, his first day home.

Hell, he loved mac and cheese.

And Grace. His little sister did, too, and she'd be waiting, excitedly, to greet him when he stepped through the door.

"Potter."

"Sorry," Harry blurted, eyes still closed, though he wondered how Snape could tell his focus had drifted, and then Harry realised his breathing had changed, no longer the calm, relaxed rhythm as it had been when he had first started.

Hell, Snape was perceptive. Did the man notice everything?

Harry wondered if he always did that, he had seen the way he would simply stare at people, especially when they said something he – no doubt – thought was utterly stupid. Did Snape read them, their breaths, their body language, just in the same way that he could look into their minds?

Could anything be hidden from the Potion's Master?

"Potter."

"Sorry," Harry said again, squeezing his eyes shut, determined to focus on his breathing.

Must focus on breathing.

Must focus on breathing.

He was not relaxed.

"Open your eyes."

Harry did.

Snape was looking at him. He raised an eyebrow, lips twitching.

"Harder than it seems, Potter?"

Harry's lips twitched, as he attempted to suppress a grin, but then he wondered why he bothered, why he kept holding back – it wasn't as if Snape hadn't seen him for these past few months, the legilliemency had seen to that, every memory and emotion and thought laid bare to the man in front of him – and so Harry just let it go and relaxed, really relaxed, for the first time since he had ever met him.

Harry smiled.

And when he did, the twitch of the lips, the amusement in Snape's expression was snuffed out instantly. And, for a second, Snape just looked at him, looking startled and surprised and, then, Harry would realise later, moved by it.

Snape drew in a breath and then, as Harry had done so mere moments before, relaxed.

Snape gave him a slight nod, more a tilt of the chin, and there was the slightest of smiles on his lips when he did.

"Shall we go on?" Snape said, after a moment.

Harry nodded.

Snape crossed his arms across his chest, closing his own eyes when he said once more; "Close your eyes."

And so, Harry did.

Malachi glanced round the Great Hall, impatiently.

Harry's last occlumency lesson should have ended over an hour ago, though he guessed Severus really wanted to drill the whole thing home before finally dismissing Harry for the summer.

He jumped when a box was suddenly dumped onto the table next to him.

"Here you go, Black," Greengrass said, plonking down onto the bench next to him and indicating at it with an outstretch hand; "Behold the key to your father's deepest, darkest secrets."

"What are all these?"

Malachi leaned up, eying the various journals that were piled inside of the box; a quick glance told him the name of it, The Oracle Bulletin.

"Fortnightlies, wouldn't you guess?"

"But, what do these have to do with my dad?"

Greengrass rolled her eyes, reaching into the box and lifting one up, flicking the pages through her fingers in a blurred arch until she abruptly put her other hand on a page, and turned to hold it out to him; "There you go."

Malachi glanced at where she indicated, a modest article in the periodical and, there right at the bottom, the columnist listed; Regulus A. Black.

Malachi frowned, taking it, but his eyes went to the pile of journals Greengrass had handed over to him; "He's got things written in all of these?"

"I don't know about all of them. But he was one of theirs, yes. For a time. Before he backed out, obviously, and started up Aurelius. Had a way with words, so my father says. Have a read for yourself."

"Did you bring anything else?" Malachi asked, reaching for the box.

"There's a couple of things in there from their school years; things about the Club. I wasn't really sure what it was you'd want to know but I figured you'd want to see what your dad was up to, rather than anything I had to say on the whole thing. My father just sent this stuff over. If you want more, I can get it."

"Why are you helping me?"

"I'm helping you?" Greengrass shot him a smile, giving a shrug as she got to her feet; "Well, I'll take that as a thank you, then. Have a good summer, Black."

She turned, beginning to head away.

"Wait."

Greengrass looked at him, expectantly, pausing in her steps.

"If I did want to know more…how'd I get in touch with you?"

Greengrass raised an eyebrow, giving him a grin; "You want to know where I live?"

"Well…so I can write you?"

"Why don't you give me yours and then I'll get in touch with you."

Malachi felt himself redden. He thought everyone knew about him and how he had to live.

"Oh. I can't. My house, it's…"

"Oh, yeah," Greengrass nodded, once, as if remembering, because of course she knew. Then she raised an eyebrow, tilting her head and widening her eyes; "I could be a spy."

"No, I –"

"Keep your knickers on, Black, I'm kidding," Greengrass snickered, shaking her head, leaning down and scrawling out something quickly onto the magazine that was still open in front of him; "There."

Malachi smiled at her.

"Later, then," Greengrass smiled in turn, before turning and heading away.

"What was that about?"

Malachi turned abruptly in the other direction, when Harry appeared behind him.

"Oh, Greengrass. She was giving me some stuff about my dad."

Harry sat down next to him, casting a curious glance at the box, and Malachi grabbed it, pulling it closer to Harry and nodding at him that he could look.

"The Oracle Bulletin," Harry read the title, as he plucked another from the box, flicking through it, disinterestedly; "These are really old."

"From the war, I guess," Malachi conceded; "My dad wrote things for them. Guess her dad was a fan or something."

"Or something," Harry shot him a look, his suspiciousness evident; "You sure you trust Greengrass?"

"Doesn't matter if I trust her if what she's telling me is true, right? His name's right there," Malachi indicated at the page of the one in front of him.

Harry looked at it, nodding, slowly, before he turned his own to the same page and, sure enough, another article was published in that one too, slightly longer, and signed by the same columnist. His dad.

Harry glanced at the box, at the journals still in there; "Want some help going through them?"

"Yeah?"

Harry nodded; "Sure. I'll take some away."

Malachi smiled, nodding at it; "Help yourself."

Harry took a handful, stuffing them into his bag; "I gotta go. Lesson with Snape overrun and I think Remus will be waiting, now."

"Yeah, I noticed. Was he an arse?"

"Nah."

Malachi grinned, because it was obvious that Harry's opinion of Severus had changed the past few weeks. Hell, Malachi got the impression that Harry actually enjoyed the lessons that he had to go to now. He didn't even complain when he was telling Malachi he still had to go today, the last day of term, just shrugged it off when Malachi declared the injustice of it.

Malachi said none of that – this time – quickly picking up on Harry's need to get away, promptly; "I'll see you next week?"

"Right," Harry shot him a bright smile, slapping him affectionately up the back of the head; "See you then."

"Bye."

Severus cast aside any nervousness he felt as best he could.

Potter helped, believe it or not.

Their lesson that morning had given way to thoughts of the boy and himself and the family that Severus hoped, one day, they might have and reminded him exactly what it was he was doing all of this for.

Never, in all the time that Severus had know Harry Potter, had he looked at him that way. A brightness and a warmth and a sparkle in his eyes as he simply smiled at him – at him – and it almost reminded Severus of Lily. Almost, but not quite. For, in that moment, he had seen only Harry and Severus couldn't help it, the little jolt of happiness he had felt at seeing it there. For him.

And when the boy had requested that Severus teach him more, extend the lesson, there was no way Severus could refuse him. Despite the fact that he had much to do and much to prepare, in only the few hours he had left there, before he went to the Foundation and bid farewell to Regulus and to Lily.

For it was time, now, the time Severus had both dreaded and anticipated for so long.

Time to return to the Dark Lord's side.

Regulus put up a good front, demonstrating the usual good humour that Severus was used to, and, for that, Severus was grateful. Because Regulus knew well enough that this may just be the last time that they ever saw one another, if things went the way each of them feared that it would.

But Severus couldn't keep up the charade, the laughter, the good-hearted farewell over the firewhiskey Regulus had demanded he drink with him – one for the road – as the reality of it all weighed too heavily. All that he was leaving behind.

Severus swirled the liquid of his glass around, following it with his eyes, not looking up. The previous lightness of his words throughout the conversation giving way to vulnerable earnestness that was far beyond Severus' levels of comfort, but this had to be said.

It had to be asked.

"Regulus," Severus kept his eyes upon his drink; "If…" He hesitated; "While I am gone…" No. Not while I am gone; "If I do not…" Come back.

He really should have rehearsed this.

The unspoken words hung heavily between them.

Severus met Regulus' eyes, guardedly.

He could be however guarded as he liked, Regulus knew exactly what he wanted to say. His friend had his eyes on him, his expression knowing, understanding.

Putting him out of his misery, Regulus nodded, slowly, with utter sincerity in his eyes; "Don't worry about them, Severus. You never have to."

His family.

Should the worst come to pass, should Severus not come back this time; Regulus would do it. He would take care of them; dedicate himself to them and their safety in the same way that his brother had once done, before him.

Severus gave him a small smile; hoping it was enough to convey his gratitude.

And then he stood, knowing Lily would come by soon, and that was something he could not cut short. His time with her.

Severus began to make his way to the door.

He was halted, mere centimetres from it, by Regulus' voice.

"Sev."

When Severus turned to face him, Regulus had approached and was stood in front of him, looking like he wanted to say something; like he had a whole spiel of things to say and Severus braced himself for it when he noticed the openness in Regulus eyes.

Regulus was his closest friend, yes. But they did not do this. No.

Regulus just smiled, holding out a hand, and Severus took it, almost sighing in relief, and he allowed Regulus to pull him closer and throw his other arm around him to slap him on the back. An embrace that he returned for a moment, before he drew back.

The heaviness of the moment was dimmed by Severus' words; "Why Regulus. You would think I was walking to my grave."

Regulus grinned but it seemed forced; "Ah. What would I do without your loving words here, raising me up."

Severus just gave another smile, turning away this time, not prolonging the goodbye as that would tread much to close to sentimentality, the longer they remained so close and so open about the possibility of Severus' impending doom, so he took his leave. Returned to his office and waited for Lily to come to him.

He had sent a message through Heart that he needed to see her, under the guise of further information regarding Project Cassidy – the most uninspiring venture going on in the Foundation at the moment – and it hadn't taken him long to toss together some useful information that would be of assistance to the researchers working on it.

Lily turned up at his office, less than half an hour after he had taken his leave of Regulus.

He had to see her. He wanted the last person, the last face he saw before he finally went back under, to be Lily.

Severus had not yet revealed to her what he planned to do. Though, obviously, she suspected. He had been dropping hints now for weeks; that when the summer came, if the Mark had not burned, he would have to go to him, uncalled for.

Still, Lily was not in agreement with him, demonstrated none of the good-humour that Regulus had done, less than an hour beforehand.

"No."

"Lily."

"Don't go."

Lily looked utterly furious. And afraid.

"You know that I have to go."

Lily shook her head, stepping even closer towards him; "Severus, he will kill you. There must be a reason he hasn't summoned you."

"It is a test. It's always a test. I've told you this before."

"Just wait."

"I can't wait. Every moment I spend apart from them only increases the likelihood that he will decide to eliminate me, and we cannot have him doubting my loyalties now. Not after all we have been through to get here. Everything is in place, we could not be more ready for this."

Lily's eyes glimmered now because she knew it was true. And she knew that his resolve was set.

"Severus –"

"Lily," he shook his head, clasping her hands between his; "Please. Don't do this."

Lily closed her eyes, a tear escaping as she did.

They simply stood there like that, as the reality of it sunk over them both.

Lily swallowed, before drawing in a breath and meeting his eyes, her voice stronger, determined this time when she spoke; "How will I know that you're safe?"

"You won't," Severus admitted, squeezing her hands; "But you cannot worry about things like that. Not now. You know how it is. We've done this before."

Lily shook her head, speaking less assuredly when she said; "It's…it's different now."

"If anything, we're stronger."

"With so much more to lose."

Severus nodded; "Yes. Which is why I have to go. We cannot fight him blind, Lily. He has to believe that I am his. And he has been watching me. He knows that I know of his dealings, of his return and if I do not seek him out, if I do not go to him, knowing this, then my culpability will be obvious."

Severus paused, reaching up to touch her cheek, wishing that he could just make the fear, the uncertainty, the sadness in Lily's eyes leave her; "And the Dark Lord is not someone who forgives. At this point, waiting for the Mark to burn, is akin to awaiting my death sentence."

Lily closed her eyes, leaning into his touch, her voice quiet; "When will you leave?"

"Now."

"Now?"

"Imminently," Severus confirmed; "I have already made the arrangements."

Lily stared at him for a moment.

"You called me here to say goodbye."

"Yes."

"Severus."

Her voice broke, and she pressed her hand to her face, thumb and forefinger to her eyelids and it seemed as if she were willing herself to stay strong, not to cry, at least for now. She drew in a shaky breath and when her chin lifted and she met his eyes once more, she seemed resolved to accept it, what it had to do, even if the apprehension, the anxiety was still evident in her eyes.

Severus touched his forehead to hers, speaking quietly; "It may be some time before I am able to contact you. Do not panic and do not act rashly, no matter how long my absence stretches."

Lily released a small sound, as if she tried to laugh and make light of what he had said but it fell short; "Oh, you really know how to make a woman feel reassured, Severus."

"Lily. I love you."

Severus rarely said it. He knew she knew it; the depth of what he felt for her. But this situation demanded it. If it were, truly, the last time he would have the chance to do so then she would hear it.

Lily leaned up, pressing her lips to his, and he responded, kissing her deeply, slowly, letting her feel it, as well as hearing the words.

And when he drew back, forehead going back to hers, Lily gave him a small smile, her voice a murmur; "Better."

"All I can promise is that it will all be over soon. Not soon enough, no. But I know that this is it; it's not how I had thought it would be but I am sure of it."

Lily nodded, eyes flicking back and forth between his; "I love you."

Severus smiled, touching his lips to her forehead.

She closed her eyes, while his lips lingered; "Please, just…be safe."

"And you," he said, lips still against her skin, before he drew back and met her eyes; "All of you."

Lily gave him a small smile, but it trembled and didn't really meet her eyes; the sparkle he longed to see entirely absent but, obviously, there was good enough reason. This could be the last time that they ever saw one another.

No.

Severus determined that it would not be so.

He would come back.

Severus stepped in, pressing his lips back to her forehead, a final time, and then he walked on by, heading for the door.

It was his office, but he knew better than to dismiss and send Lily back down to the lab, not when she was like this. She would need time. And, Severus knew, that if he were to wait for her to walk away from him, that the time would never come. Lily wouldn't walk away.

And so he did, casting her a glance over his shoulder when he reached the door.

Lily simply watched him, offering him another smile, as she crossed her arms, holding her arms tight in her hands as she watched him go.

Severus didn't say goodbye.

He simply turned, pulling open the door and leaving the room.

He refused to even entertain it.

This wasn't goodbye.