Chapter Twenty-Seven
"Do you have to go back to school, Harry?"
Harry scrunched up his nose, making a show of sadness at the fact for his little sister; "I'm afraid so, Grace."
"Ugh!" Grace threw herself backwards onto the pillows, from where she knelt in the middle of his bed; "This blows."
Harry burst out laughing at the response, shaking his head and tossing the t-shirt he was folding down onto the bed next to the case he was packing.
He sat down next to her; "I'll be back soon. Christmas isn't that far away."
"It's ages," Grace said, eyes narrowing at him, not accepting the fact as any sort of reassurance.
"Well, you won't be stuck in the house anymore this time, at least," Harry pointed out; "You're starting school too, this month. Aren't you excited?"
Grace shrugged, as if she didn't want to admit it, lest she make less of her annoyance at his departure.
Harry grinned, ticking her side with one hand, making her giggle and squeal; "Come on, I know you are! You've been talking about it all summer."
"I want to come to your school and get to see you every day, like Malachi does. How come I have to go to baby school?"
"It's not 'baby school', it's primary. You'll love it. It's the only one in the country, you know; it's a pretty big deal, a magic school for little kids. Before it opened I had to go to muggle school."
Grace scrunched up her nose at that; "No magic?"
"None."
Grace looked suitably unimpressed, eyeing the wand that lay on his side table, longingly; "Sounds rubbish."
Harry ruffled her hair and got back to his feet, to continue his packing, while Grace pushed back up to sit upright as she observed him.
"Daddy used to come and see me when you went back to school. Last time, he didn't come."
Harry looked at her, frowningly; "You don't see your Daddy anymore?"
Grace shook her head.
Harry felt bad for her, that her imagination was finally failing, her imaginary father no longer holding up his end of the deal; "Well, that's his loss, Grace."
"What does that mean?"
"That you're better off without him."
Grace looked down, sadly, her voice quiet; "I don't think I'm better without him."
Harry immediately felt guilty at his dismissive response, reaching out and giving her shoulder a reassuring squeeze; "I only meant he must be missing you way more than you're missing him. You're super special."
Grace gave him a small smile.
"Daddy said that to me, too. And that he loves me more than pudding."
Harry smiled, liking the analogy; "Does he?"
Grace nodded, smilingly; "And he's really good at magic too, Harry. Sometimes, when Mummy's not looking, he lets me open and close the flowers in the kitchen just with my eyes. He said Mummy used to do that too, when she was little."
Harry looked at her curiously at the story.
"He said sometimes, wizards don't even need to use wands. That the magic is just inside me. I've been trying to light the candles in the kitchen with my eyes, too; it's not working yet. But I think it might, soon."
Harry sat down next to her, utterly taken in by the tales; "Is that all he does with you? Tell you about magic?"
Grace shook her head; "He reads me stories, too. And he taught me how to ride my bike out in the back garden."
She hesitated, then glanced in the direction of the door, and then she crawled up the bed and grabbed one of his pillows. Before he could stop her, she tugged at the end of it, and stuck a hand inside and Harry realised his pillow was ripped.
She pulled out a handful of feathers and put them down between them. She raised excited eyes to Harry's, her voice a whisper; "Look."
She stared at them.
For a moment, nothing happened.
And then, as her gaze narrowed, her bottom lip becoming caught between her teeth in that way that she did when she focused intently, the feathers slowly started to rise.
Harry watched, eyes wide, as they lifted from the bedcovers, hovering in the air between them.
It didn't last long but Harry was more than a little impressed and Grace was utterly delighted with herself, shooting him a proud grin as they drifted back down to the bed.
"Your Daddy taught you that?"
"No. Not that. But he said that if I can focus on something really good, then I can make anything happen, so I cut up your pillow to get the feathers and try it."
"Why did you cut up my pillow?" Harry asked, lifting the offending item with a frown, wondering that he didn't notice it at all during his time at home.
"Because I use mine more than you use yours. And because you're my big brother and you're supposed to be nice to me."
"Letting you ruin my things is me being nice to you?"
"It's not ruined," Grace said, looking at it, carefully; "If you use a spell you can fix it."
"Magic isn't the answer to everything, Grace."
She shrugged, shooting him an innocent smile; "To this, it is."
Before Harry could say anything further there was a knock at the door, before it was pushed open and his Uncle Remus stuck his head around it. He shot them a grin; "Alright, you two?"
"Uncle Remus!" Grace was on the ground and hurrying to greet him in a flash.
Remus hoisted her up into his arms, giving her a hug and kiss, before balancing her on his hip; "Harry, we had better get going."
"Right."
Harry nodded, quickly getting to his feet and fastening the case; "Back to Hogwarts!"
"Boo!" came Grace's retort.
Remus and Harry laughed.
"All set?"
Regulus placed the duffle bag on the ground at their feet, between himself and his son, where they were stood just a few metres from where the carriages that would take Malachi up to Hogwarts waited.
Malachi looked at him, guardedly, and gave him a nod.
The area was bustling with the excitement of the commencement of the new school year, an anticipation Regulus remembered all too well, and there was playful chatter and hugging reunions and teenagers scampering towards the carriages, eager to claim their spots amongst them with their friends, and Regulus and Malachi had to dodge some of them as they brushed and bumped against them.
Regulus ignored the curious glances cast their way, ignored the smug looks, the sneering gazes of those who saw and recognised him as an adversary – the Blood Traitor – as well as the looks of awe and admiration of those who considered him an ally, and someone to be respected.
Regulus didn't care to consider himself as either, so he simply gave polite smiles to any he happened to make eye contact with, but his true attention was entirely for his son.
An uneasiness had settled over them in the aftermath of their confrontation, similar to the one that had lingered earlier in the year, when Malachi had first learned of what he had been and had been too afraid to just ask him about it.
Regulus was at a loss as to how to approach all of this, because shouting and demanding that his son just listen had got him nowhere, and his attempts at shielding his son from all the horrors of the world – the truth about pureblood supremacy and the stigma facing the muggleborns and his own, dreadful, appalling crimes – all of it had been laid bare to his son, now, and the concealment of it all for all these years had done nothing to stop Malachi falling prey to it all.
It was almost as if this were his punishment, to be forced to watch his son walk the same path that he had taken as a child, helpless and unable to do or say anything to stop it.
Of course, the very fact that it was his own blinking words that Malachi had been reading, from back then, that were corrupting his boy's thoughts, his utter innocence, was mortifying. And how was he supposed to argue with that?
It was the bitterest of ironies; the cruellest twist of fate, to watch one's child fall. To repeat the same mistakes.
No.
Regulus would not see it happen.
Malachi looked at him, hesitantly, before looking at the thestral-drawn carriages that awaited; "I, uh…I'll see you at Christmas, then, Dad."
His son made to reach down and grasp the bag between them, but Regulus stopped him with a hand to his arm, and Malachi looked at him, the guardedness giving way to uncertain warmth and Regulus tugged him close and hugged him tight; "If you need me, Malachi. For anything; you write me, you go to Severus, I'll be right there. Alright?"
He felt Malachi nod, and his son leaned in closer, pressing his face into his shoulder for a moment, before there was a quiet, almost barely audible whisper; "Love you, Dad."
There was such vulnerability there, as if Malachi feared it was not something he expected to hear back, that Regulus drew back to look at him, speaking assuredly; "I love you, too, Son."
Malachi blushed at the normally levelled volume, his cheeks flushing as his eyes glanced around at the other passing students, and Regulus chuckled.
Before anything further could be said between them, Harry suddenly appeared, bounding up to them with Remus Lupin a slight distance behind.
"Malachi!" Harry had his arm around his son's shoulders in a second, shooting a smile Regulus' way; "Hi, Mr Black."
"Hello Harry," Regulus said, unable to help smiling in return at the cocky, so Sirius-like way he had imposed himself upon them; "Well then, I suppose this leaves you in capable hands. You two be good this term. If you possibly can."
"The best, Sir," Harry said, while Malachi shot a grin in his direction, which suggested they would be nothing of the sort and Regulus thanked the deities that his son, at least, had Harry Potter in that place to keep him a little bit tethered to something other than Slytherin and his Housemates.
"See you at Christmas," Regulus gave his son's hair a ruffle, before he stepped away, giving a polite nod in the direction of Remus Lupin, who still lingered – the boys' chaperone until they reached the safety of the Castle – and then headed on his way.
A heavy heart weighed upon him as he glanced back over his shoulder, watching as his son boarded one of the carriages, and he dreaded it, the moment his son would set foot back into that school, those dorms, once more.
Severus was late.
The Great Feast had already commenced, and Severus had missed Dumbledore's customary welcoming address, as well as this year's Sorting by the time he stepped into the Great Hall, striding down towards his spot at the top table without shame at his tardiness, and he ignored the various heads of students that turned to look in his direction as he made his way past.
Dumbledore watched him carefully, a customary twinkle in his eye, and Severus only inclined his head slightly in confirmation, which led to the ghost of a smile gracing the Headmaster's lips.
Severus took his seat.
As he did, his eyes unconsciously went in the direction of the Gryffindor table, and he immediately found himself looking directly into those familiar green eyes of Harry Potter.
Severus held his look, his own eyes narrowing ever so slightly as they simply regarded one another, the first time they had done so since the night two weeks before when Harry had escaped from the clutches of the Dark Lord once again. This time, of course, it had been with Severus' obvious assistance, which he had always been careful to conceal from the boy in the past.
The boy's gaze was not entirely trusting, certainly not that same relaxed warmth that he had offered up with a smile to him on the last day of term, but it wasn't distrust that was there either. In fact, it was almost impossible to read him, which was a happy change, considering how transparent the boy had always been, but Severus could see the utter bewilderment in the boy's expression if he looked closely enough.
Even without legilliemency.
Severus wondered – well, knew - that he ought to prepare himself for a barrage of unanswerable questions the following Monday when he had scheduled their Occlumency lessons to resume.
Harry looked away when one of his friends, Granger, it seemed, spoke something to him and though Severus could see the boy begin to look back in his direction upon answering her, he averted his own gaze so as not to continue the stare out they had been engaged in.
Severus would face Harry soon enough.
The Feast was long and Severus was weary, desperate to just get it over and done with so he could make his report to Dumbledore and then, go to his chambers and simply be alone, take comfort in his pain-relieving potions – as he had utterly misjudged just how furious the Dark Lord was going to be throughout his regrouping with the Circle and had underestimated how many he would actually have needed to take with him – and then crash out and sleep in a room not inhabited with the snoring, groaning, irritating company of his fellow Death Eaters.
"Severus. You look worn, my boy," Dumbledore said, warmly, when they were finally in his office a couple of hours – a couple of hours which felt like an eternity – later, and Severus leaned back in the unbelievably comfortable chair upon which he sat.
It was heavenly in comparison to recent accommodations.
"The Dark Lord was more displeased than I had anticipated considering the events which took place during my absence."
Indeed, Severus had expected either acceptance, with some 'interrogation' of course, or outright death. Not a two-week-long exercise of walking on eggshells, lest one of them breathe wrongly in his presence and incur his wrath; a question they either did not know, or that the Dark Lord would not like the answer to, asked of anyone who happened to irritate him, and they were punished, accordingly, for such crimes.
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled, not seeming at all concerned by Harry's involvement in the resurrection; "Yes, Harry does have a knack for being in the right place at the right time."
"Quite the opposite, Albus, I assure you," Severus retorted with a glower.
"You handled the situation very well, Severus. I was impressed when I heard Harry's account of it all. Would you like some tea? Do. You look like you need it."
Severus made to protest but he wasn't all that opposed to the idea, so he only muttered it half-heartedly and within a few minutes Winky had served them a pot of tea and a plate of scones to enjoy as they continued their conversation.
"And how did you find your old master, otherwise? Was he receptive to your offer?"
"Receptive. Hm. There was the usual interrogation. He was convinced, as you see, for I sit here before you quite alive and well."
"And well, hm? Perhaps a visit with Poppy –"
"I have my stores, I do not need someone fussing over me the rest of the evening," Severus dismissed the suggestion before it was complete, pushing on with more pressing matters; "The Dark Lord had hoped to maintain a longer duration of secrecy following his revival. Obviously, Potter's involvement and subsequent escape has led to some difficulty in doing so, but he wishes to remain concealed for as long as possible for the time being. He and the other followers were in the process of relocating upon my departure; to where, I was not informed. The Dark Lord will contact me in due course or I have the ability to do so him, if I should have something particularly valuable to offer in the meantime. He has no intentions to begin a war, at the present time, though from what I gather Crouch is not so willing to let the opportunity slide."
Dumbledore nodded, knowingly; "Hm. Yes, Bartemius is keen to exercise a show of strength and nip this in the bud before things escalate. Indeed, if he could do so before it were to become outright war, he would jump at the chance."
"Except there is no chance of that. There will be a war. It is just a matter of time. For now recruitment is the Dark Lord's main concern. As well as, of course, the elimination of his most significant rivals."
The rivals were obvious; the defector, Regulus, and the prophecy child, Harry.
"And in the meantime, you intend to carry on instructing Harry in the practice of occlumency?"
"Of course, Albus. Now that the Dark Lord is aware of the link between them, it is imperative that Potter is able to shut him out when needed."
"And how did Tom react upon learning of this connection?"
"He was as intrigued as you said he would be. Though not quite as displeased. In fact, I fear that the risk in revealing it to him may not pay off."
"It was only a matter of time before he learned of it; by informing him ourselves, he is now in the position where he must play into our hands."
"I know how the ploy is to work, Headmaster. I only say that Ha – Potter is not sufficiently skilled in occlumency that he will be able to control this link, if the Dark Lord should decide to put it to use."
Severus did not know why he was even bothering to argue the case as it was quite impossible that he should not have informed the Dark Lord of the mind link, even if he wished to, as he was far too involved in the attempt to control it that when the dark wizard, inevitably, discovered it he would have to explain why he did not reveal it.
And there was no plausible explanation for him not to. Other than, of course, the fact that Severus dearly wanted to see the Dark Lord dead and gone.
"As far as we are aware, Harry –" Dumbledore's eyes twinkled when he said the name, making it clear he had picked up on Severus' slip "- is unable to enter Tom's mind at will. It is something quite unconsciously done. Though we should assume that times of great emotional responses may trigger it; so it is in Harry's best interests that he is not too provoked to any such reactions, so as to avoid the same thing happening in reverse."
Severus eyed him; "I shall try to control myself." He sipped his tea; "The Dark Lord seeks to use occlumency himself, to keep Potter from observing anything further."
"As expected."
"Yes," Severus lowered his cup to the saucer he held; "We can assume the next time the boy sees anything, that the Dark Lord has allowed it to slip through, willingly; an attempt to manipulate or lure the boy into another less-than-ideal circumstance."
"You'll see to it that Harry knows not to respond, then?"
"Is there a particular reason why you cannot?"
"Well. Severus, you see Harry far more often than I do, these days. And it seemed, during my conversation with him following his safe return, that he is not quite so immune to your teachings and wisdom. Indeed, he seemed more than a little keen to inform me of your role in his great escape."
"He needs to learn to keep his mouth shut."
"Another thing to add to your list, Severus?"
He scowled, shaking his head in exasperation as he took another sip, a longer one this time now that the liquid had suitably cooled; "Has there been any further progress with the horcrux hunt?"
"Only that Regulus continues to be certain that all that remains is one."
"Nagini is well protected. The Dark Lord does not trust her exposed; even amongst his own, he keeps her enshrouded."
"The time will come when the snake can be protected no more," Dumbledore stated, assuredly.
There was only silence, which stretched, following the statement. Severus was not privy to further information regarding the hunt; it was Regulus' task and only the most basic of information was shared with him.
He could not know everything, he who hung off the arm of the Dark Lord, after all.
Severus drew in a breath before taking another sip, his weariness increasing, and then placed the half-empty cup and saucer on the desk before him; "If that is all, Headmaster?"
Dumbledore inclined his head, regarding him warmly; "It is. Goodnight, Severus."
Severus only inclined his head in response, offering no verbal farewell, and got to his feet.
He had fully intended on heading to his chambers upon his departure from Dumbledore's office. Ready to down a pain-relieving potion, remove the clothing he wore and simply collapse into his bed and sleep from now until classes resumed the following morning.
That was the intention.
But more than that tempting proposition, there was something else he would far rather be doing; somewhere else he would far rather be.
And he really should not – could not – go there.
But, even as he thought it, knew he should just go down to the dungeons, to his chambers, and lock himself away and push aside the longing, he found himself turning left at the end of the corridor instead of right and, within minutes, he was out on the grounds, treading those familiar steps he had taken every night that he could for the past few years, ever since Harry had joined him in that school.
He tread them, with an apparition beyond the gates and then a stride, a careful approach all the way to the garden and then into the shed of the Fidelius-protected home that he had sworn he could not go back to and, as he looked up at the window, he caught sight of that which would undo his resolve that he really only wanted to look. To catch a glimpse of them.
He had only meant to look, he told himself again, feebly – because he could not fool even himself into believing it were true – but then, he saw them there; the yellow flowers sitting upon the sill. It was an old sign, an old ritual of theirs, that signalled that it was safe for him to come home and it warmed him to realise that Lily still carried it out, even now, when she must be certain he would not.
But, this night, he did.
Severus was powerless to stop himself.
After these weeks, these months that had passed, he had to see her. He could not wait another moment.
It was oh-so-familiar and right as he stepped across the threshold into their home, his eyes glancing around and taking it all in, reminding himself of all he had left behind, and everything was exactly as he had left it, exactly as he remembered.
Severus released a breath he didn't know he was holding, the tension of the past weeks leaving him, and then he heard soft voices upstairs and he approached, making his way up the staircase, quietly as he could.
"How come I only get to go for half a day, Mummy? Harry goes to school for whole days and nights."
"It's just for the first week, Sweetheart," Lily said.
Their voices carried out into the hallway, even where Severus stood some feet away, having paused at the top of the landing to listen.
"And then I'll have sleepovers, too?"
"Not sleepovers, no. But whole days. Morning until tea time."
"And you'll be there too, won't you?"
"Yes, I will. I'll be right close by, and if you want to see me you just tell your teacher and I'll be there."
"What about Daddy? Can I ask to see Daddy?"
There was a quiet in the immediate aftermath of the question, the question which stung Severus right to his core, and he stepped forward then, ever so tempted to just go to his girls and take them in his arms.
He didn't. He managed to muster up some restraint, at least, and he made a sharp turn, going into their room, instead – his and Lily's – to wait for her.
The voices continued, quiet murmurs from the room next door, and Severus muttered a silencing charm upon the room he waited in, so his and Lily's voices wouldn't carry through when they inevitably talked following Grace's night time ritual.
Lily took her time following her departure from Grace's room, walking on by the bedroom and heading into the bathroom – for a bath, it seemed – and Severus just waited, happy to wait forever if it only meant he'd get to see her, and it was a while later before the door to the bedroom opened and she stepped inside, wrapped only in a towel.
She didn't notice him, the door clicking shut behind her, and she began to make her way towards the bed without a glance in his direction.
Severus caught her by the arm before she could step away; "Lily."
Lily gave a shriek that was almost comical, enough that Severus smiled, not releasing the hold her had of her when she tried to leap back, eyes wide.
"Sh. It's only me."
He said it by means of explanation and Lily's eyes widened further when she realised that, yes, it really was him who was standing there in front of her.
"Severus."
Her voice was a whisper and, for a moment, all she did was stare.
And then she stepped forward, hands going to the side of his neck and drawing him down, pressing her lips to his. It was something shared between them a million times by this point, but it was still as utterly delightful as it had been the first, particularly after all this time without, and Severus' hands immediately grasped her by the waist, returning the affection keenly, and all was right with the world for a moment.
Severus made to draw back, to explain, but Lily came with him, no inclination to let him go. Instead, she pressed herself closer, her intent clear.
Severus was surprised.
He had expected that Lily would want to talk.
Not that he was complaining, of course.
Severus took the invitation, more than willingly, putting his mouth to other, far more pleasing endeavours than communication.
After these past few weeks, Severus was utterly sick of talking.
"Well. That was a warm welcome."
A very warm welcome.
Severus had to wait to catch his breath before he could say the words, his already beaten and battered body not at all prepared for what Lily had in store for him that night.
"I should go away more often."
"Oh, ho. You tickle me, Sir."
Severus grinned, moving his fingers against where they rested on her hip, doing just that and she giggled, pressing more closely into him and pressed another kiss to the side of his neck.
"Ugh. God, I missed you."
Severus tightened his hold and pressed a kiss to the top of her head, breathing her in.
They lay there like that for a while, simply basking in one another's company, and Severus relished the feel of soft, smooth skin beneath the fingertips that he trailed slowly up and down her back.
Eventually, he wondered if that was going to be it for the night, and Lily would simply drift off to sleep in his arms, postponing any conversation until the following day at the Foundation, but no.
She raised her head, meeting his eyes, her voice still a spent-induced murmur when she spoke; "Are you alright?"
"I survived. One of the surer indicators of success. It took a little convincing, but then the Dark Lord always has."
"I was more concerned with your well-being, rather than your standing."
"They go hand in hand, I'm afraid."
"I already knew you were there. I guessed he had been convinced."
"Dare I presume?"
"Harry."
"Of course. Motor mouth strikes again."
Severus needed to get on that, promptly, lest half the population of Hogwarts learn the truth of what happened that night.
Honestly.
"He told me you helped him," Lily said, unnecessarily, as it was obvious and no doubt the reason for this most-pleasing greeting.
"You are not the only one he told," Severus stated, tucking a hand behind his head and raising himself slightly to look at her; "Harry needs to get his verbal runs under control; ideally, he ought to have taken credit for the escape himself. However implausible the idea may have been. Did he at least restrain himself enough to withhold it from Crouch?"
"Personally, yes. Though one of the aurors may have told him by now."
"Then, I am now linked with the Dark Lord's return. Fantastic."
"Dumbledore would have a word with Crouch if need be."
"I am Dumbledore's spy, not the Ministry's, and Crouch is not quite as under his thumb as another, weaker Minister might have been; nor do I expect that he would be quite as forgiving as Bagnold for my role in all of this. Crouch did not agree with me evading trial the first time around."
"Crouch wants to fight fire with fire; a spy at Voldemort's side does that."
"I have very little useful information at present. Certainly, none that would placate the man who is even more desperate for war than the Dark Lord, himself."
Lily didn't ask what the information was. She knew not to. Instead, she just leaned in, pressing her lips to his chest and laying her head back down upon it.
"I told Harry," she said, after a moment.
Severus tensed.
"Told Harry what?"
"Why you helped him."
"Lily. There are many reasons you could have offered up in that respect."
Lily drew back to meet his eyes; "I told him that you're Dumbledore's. An Order member."
Severus glanced away, drawing in a breath; "Too much."
"He's going to see you with us, the Order will reconvene within the month, Dumbledore said so."
"And Dumbledore is in the mind of recruiting fourteen-year-olds? Harry could not possibly see me there."
"He would figure it out, either way. He already knew, how could he not after all he had seen that night? And the last thing we need is Harry running around asking questions of others to try to make sense of it all, when the conclusion was so inevitable."
"You think this is going to stop Harry asking questions?" Severus scoffed; "That'll be the day."
"I only told him what you're going to have to. How can his occlumency lessons with you be in any way successful if he doubts your motivations? He needs to know he can trust you."
"Trust me?" Severus repeated, the concept utterly foreign to him, as, quite frankly, he could count on one hand – less even – the number of people who could actually trust him to be honest with them.
"Yes, trust you," Lily repeated, as if she heard his thoughts; "He needs to know you're on this side of it all. There was no other way, after what happened."
Severus flexed his jaw, knowing it were true; "It was unavoidable, I suppose," he conceded, before he went on; "Though his capture was not. How did that come about?"
"Oh. He…"
Lily seemed to be trying to think up an excuse on her son's behalf.
Severus offered up for her; "Broke another rule?"
"Aren't we all rule breakers?"
"He needs to be more careful."
Lily looked at him for a second, before laying her head back down upon him.
"It was during James' funeral," Lily said, addressing the demise of Potter for the first time, which Severus had heard mutterings of during his time away.
"Ah." Severus offered by means of understanding.
"I think it all became too much for him," Lily went on, so that he was not put in the uncomfortable position of having to actually address the issue of Potter, himself; "Harry was confused. He struggled with it. I don't think he really grieved what happened; I don't think he felt that he could."
Severus nodded slowly, before he looked down at the top of her head, where it still rested upon his chest; "And you?"
There was a silence.
Lily raised her head, meeting his eyes.
Severus tilted his chin to look at her more closely; "Are you alright?"
Lily's lips quirked, and she drew up a hand, to tuck beneath her chin where it rested on his sternum; "I am now. The summer was long and hot and utterly shite."
Severus smirked, and she chuckled, before her eyes softened and she spoke sincerely; "I'm so glad you're here."
Severus nodded, eyes glancing around the room; "Yes. It seems it is not only Harry who is at the mercy of his emotions these days."
"I'm glad you caved in to yours. At least this once."
"Likewise."
His eyes went towards the further wall, the one that separated this one from that of his daughter's; "I heard Grace, earlier."
Lily met his eyes, a tinge of regret in them at the mention, but she quickly covered it up; "She's very excited, her first day at the Learning Centre is this Monday. Can you believe it?"
Severus smiled; "How has she been?"
"Amazing. Learning something new every day. Asking the craziest questions. Telling the craziest stories. She was delighted to have her brother home for the summer, as always."
"She still asks for me."
Lily's smile faltered, turning compassionate to his plight, and she nodded; "Yes. She always will, Severus. She's too smart to allow herself to let it go, to forget."
Severus glanced away, speaking the truth even if he couldn't quite force himself to wish that she would; "It would be better for her, that she did. For both of you. There would be less confusion that way."
"And then, what, when you do finally come home?" Lily countered, optimistically, as if such an outcome were a given.
Severus didn't answer, just brushed the hair that had fallen over her shoulder aside and touched his lips to the dip where it met her neck, lingering there.
Lily touched her forehead to the side of his, her tone dropping once more to a murmur as she asked, with hope in her voice; "Are you staying here tonight?"
"I shall linger. Long enough for you to fall asleep."
"Then I'll just have to stave it off a little longer."
Severus smiled, not protesting the statement, and leaned back, drawing her back to lie within his arms. The two of them content to just lay there in the quiet, in the dark.
Severus did as he said, remaining there with her until her breathing even out with sleep, only then slipping carefully from their bed and back out into the darkness of the night.