Chapter Fifty-Four

There was an excited energy within the Great Hall when Severus stepped into it, as spells fired back and forth between the students who had been assembled for the last Duel Club session of the term.

"Look, Harry, I drew you a picture!"

Severus did his best not to turn at the sound of Grace's voice as he passed.

"Grace, you're supposed to stay behind the desk!" came Harry's response.

"But look, it's our house, see! And there's you and Mummy and me. I drew you on your firebolt, too."

"Yeah. It's real nice, Grace, but – you've gotta go back, okay?"

"But – hi Professor Snape!" her voice lit up.

Severus allowed a casual glance her way – saving face – but was saved from having to respond further by Lupin's appearance at his side; "Grace, you heard your brother. Back you go, now."

Grace looked at Severus – directly at him – and for a second her eyes were bright and pleased to see him, but then they glazed somewhat, the way they had the last time, and before she had a chance to refocus Severus swept away and made his way up to the top table.

"…mustn't come out from behind here, or you'll have to spend these sessions in the library with…" he could hear Lupin saying, as he led Grace back to her designated seated area.

Severus walked around the back of the table, where he was certain they would be out of earshot of the pupils - who were much too preoccupied tossing amateur curses and hexes at one another throughout the room to pay them any attention, in any case – and placed the wooden box of phials, parchments, and various other materials he had gathered upon the top table.

"I have gathered what I could in the short timescale we were granted," Severus stated, without preamble, when Lupin reappeared at his side a moment later; "I trust there will be enough to establish a curriculum diverse enough to cover the main areas highlighted by the Ministry, at least enough to do until the summer. Blood Magic and Ritual Sacrifice, I'm afraid, will have to wait until next year's timetabling."

It was difficult not to sound sarcastic, as he said it: Blood Magic and Ritual Sacrifice.

Good grief.

"Thank you, Severus, I appreciate this," Lupin said, in his newfound almost-obsequious way. He had been making a good show of deference towards him, ever since Severus had gone to him at the beginning of the year, and it was a behaviour that only served to grate. Immensely.

Severus placed his hand on the wooden box of Wolfsbane phials; "I trust you remember how to prepare this."

"I do. Thank you."

Severus shot him a scowl at the added thanks – as if the concoction were not something he had been providing Lupin with for years now – and went on, his volume lowering somewhat, despite their distance from anyone else in the room; "Regulus has agreed to accommodate Harry and Grace Easter Weekend – " Severus went on and he couldn't believe it had come to this, that he was discussing the childcare arrangements of his children with Remus Lupin, of all people; " – he shall come to collect them the Thursday evening, after curfew, when there is little chance of their departure being noticed."

A clatter to the left of them drew their attention. Severus expected to see a student - or multiple students - and whatever carnage they had left behind in their wake of a spell-gone-wrong; instead, Nymaphadora Tonks - as clumsy now as she had been as a student, it seemed - was quickly picking up and mending the contents of a chest she had smashed into during a demonstration.

Severus rolled his eyes.

Lupin smiled.

"Has there been any news on Lily?"

Severus looked at Lupin, sharply, at the question, before his eyes darted back out at the students – who were much too preoccupied to notice that he was even there, much less attempt to eavesdrop – but he was immediately on his guard.

"You know better than to speak of it, Lupin."

"Surely there must be some change, by now, but Harry has heard nothing," Lupin wasn't to be put off.

"She woke."

Lupin stared at him a moment.

"She's awake?"

"No. She woke. Once. Last week. There is progress."

Severus pushed down the returning pang of disappointment that had risen the week before, when he had considered if he'd stayed just a little longer that night, he might have been there for it. But, then, that wasn't, exactly, practical. That she should see him and call for him, after he were gone, without realising what she was doing was too much of a risk.

The momentary delight, evident in Lupin's expression, vanished into bewilderment; "Harry didn't say anything –"

"Harry doesn't know."

Bewilderment dealt with; Lupin now looked annoyed. That was a welcome change – a taste of normality, even – after weeks of 'yes, Severus', 'thank you, Severus', 'as you please, Severus'.

"Why doesn't he know?"

"I thought it better to spare him the disappointment, should the current method of treatment fail to garner the desired results."

Lupin almost rolled his eyes – almost – but not quite, instead resuming his infuriatingly reasoning tone; "He would be disappointed either way, Severus. I hardly think concealment of facts – particularly ones that might offer him some hope or comfort – is conductive to establishing a trusting relationship –"

"Enough," Severus interrupted him, with a glance around the room before he straightened up; "While I concede that I have now found myself in your debt, Lupin, do not make the mistake of thinking that we have in some – in any way, in fact – established a kinship. Particularly not one that warrants your opinion on – "anything; " – how I choose to deal with this matter."

The 'my family' went without saying, and Lupin suitably - surprisingly - backed off.

Severus glanced in Grace's direction before he had a chance to stop himself, only to find her eyes entirely upon him and she smiled and waved in his direction when she noticed him looking. Severus inclined his head, slightly, in turn, unable to ignore her completely but he turned his back once he had done so, so as not to repeat the mistake.

Lupin glanced between the two of them, with obvious concern, which only served to make Severus bristle.

"Have you noticed anything peculiar regarding her behaviour?" Severus asked.

"Other than right now? Are you sure it worked?"

"It worked."

"Maybe it's wearing off."

"It does not wear off, Lupin. It is a suppression of memories. Any…emotional ties that had previously been established remain and can be triggered, under certain circumstances."

"They seem to have been quite easily triggered, in this case," Lupin pointed out, before giving a smile and a wave in Grace's direction, while Severus continued to present his back to her.

"That can be the case where the attachment is…" Severus broke off when Lupin met his eyes, he glanced away as he finished; "Particularly strong."

Severus cleared his throat, before indicating the parchments; "I expect to depart this evening, following Harry's final occlumency lesson. Should you require any further information, try Regulus when he arrives next week."

Severus didn't wait for Lupin to respond and made his way from the room, carefully keeping his eyes ahead and not on the little girl in the corner of the room.

"…therefore it is with regrets that this year's Spring Fling shall not be taking place…the situation will be reassessed with regards to the summer season…Summer Gala likely to go ahead…etcetera, etcetera," Regulus muttered and waved a hand, before handing the parchment over to Narcissa and taking the seat opposite her, on the other side of his desk.

"Well. It is only logical under the circumstances," Narcissa pointed out, just as a house elf appeared with a 'pop' at her side and set about arranging the refreshments on the desk; "It's unlikely that such an event, so soon after the Foundation reopening its doors, would garner enough of a crowd to offset the expenses."

"Well. Feel free to take the time, Cissy," Regulus said, forgoing the tea the house elf had just finished setting up, and poured himself a glass of firewhiskey, instead; "I'm sure you must be eager to spend the time at home, now that the Manor is no longer the lonely place that it has been in recent years."

Narcissa met his eyes.

Regulus held her look as he lifted his glass for a drink.

It was the first time he had seen her since the incident at New Year – he was surprised she had turned up to the meeting at all, if he were honest, but, then, she was likely still under orders – and if Narcissa thought he would let it slide, what had happened go unmentioned, now that they found themselves reunited once more under the Foundation's newly rebuilt walls, then his cousin was not to be so lucky.

"Funny thing this; Lucius could have caught me," Regulus finally said, when the silence stretched, taking another drink before putting his glass back down on the desk; "He could have killed me. But, he didn't. Can't imagine why."

"Regulus."

"He had no qualms sending the Dark Lord after me, before, after all."

Narcissa glanced away, at the nod to the fact that she had – unknowingly, of course, but nonetheless – set about the events that landed her husband in Azkaban in her attempts to save him some years ago.

"I know you asked him not to, Cissy. I don't know why he listened. But I'm grateful; well, as grateful as a person can be, to someone complicit in trying to murder them and a fourteen-year-old boy."

"You know why I'm here, Regulus."

"I know why you're here, yes. What I don't know is why you're there."

"Regulus."

"Betraying the Dark Lord right beneath his nose? You're lucky to still be sitting here. I don't know how you managed to escape his scrutiny – I guess his plan worked out so well that it was unnecessary – but you can't count on being overlooked forever."

"Would you rather I had said nothing?"

"Of course not. Cissy, I meant what I said before; I can help you."

"You're so naïve. You think you can save the world. You can't save us, Reg; you can't even save yourself."

"I can get you out. I can protect you and Draco."

"My place is with my husband."

"You think Lucius wants you there? You think he wants his son seeing that?"

"All Lucius wants is for his family to live to see the other side of this war. Do you honestly think the best chance of that happening is with you?"

Regulus gave a wry smile.

Narcissa nodded. She looked regretful when she spoke, but the words were said with certainty.

"He is going to find you, Regulus. There's only so much that I – and Severus –" their eyes met; " – can do to delay that from happening. And don't fool yourself as to my intentions; my motives are the same as my husband's. I'm protecting my family, not aligning myself with the mudbloods and half-breeds you seek to appease. You just so happen to be part of that family, much as you'd wish to forget it, so, yes; I asked my husband to spare my baby cousin."

Regulus chuckled; "You say that as if I'm a foolish child who needs to be protected."

"Perhaps not a child; but a fool that needs to be protected, yes."

Regulus leaned back in his chair, smiling fondly at her, as she went on.

"You got caught. You should be out of sight. Instead, you taunt him with your Foundation and your success; throwing parties and funding research and plucking five-year-olds from the nest to educate them in the ways of the wizarding world, all in defiance of him and what he is attempting to do. Do you have any idea what he plans to do to you when he finally gets his hands on you?"

"Oh, I have a better idea of it than you, dear cousin," Regulus stated, lifting his glass, and taking another drink; "A fate that awaits me, regardless of whether or not I spend my life in shadows. And I do so like the sun."

"Oh, don't we all know it, Regulus," Narcissa rolled her eyes, exasperation at his antics showing; "But do not sit there and tell me that I am the fool for taking a risk when you do all you can to ensure his ire can never be diluted by time or distance."

"The Dark Lord neither forgets, nor forgives," Regulus finished off his drink; "That is the way of it. Our best – our only – chance is his elimination."

Narcissa snorted – most undignified, most un-Cissy-like – and shook her head; "That will never happen."

"Hm. I wouldn't be so sure."

Narcissa was almost smirking now; "And are you to be the great hero to save us all? I needn't fear, then."

Regulus smiled at her, raising his eyebrows, but said nothing more on the subject. Instead, he redirected their attention to other matters regarding the re-opening.

For with Malachi due back from school the next day, and Julia waiting for him, the last thing he wished to be dwelling on right now was his own certain demise.

Not when he had inadvertently found himself, finally, part of a life more than worth living.

With the term drawing to a close, Harry had spent the better part of the last week either in Duel Club, occupying Grace or in a state of deep meditation – he was, actually, not that bad at it by now – in his attempts to get his emotions in check.

He had felt rotten after his run in with Snape the week before.

It was the first – the only – time that Snape had ever let Harry see it; the grief he felt behind the – infuriatingly – stoic mask that he presented to him, to everyone, when he had finally admitted – shown, Harry, even – that he knew that he and his mum should never have gotten together in the first place.

It was something that his mum, that Mr. Black, even Remus, had never said out loud to Harry. Not once. Even the year before when he'd struggled – to put it mildly – to process it all no one had ever told him that what Harry felt was okay, that he was right. He was just told to deal with it. To get over it. There were far more important things to worry about than his little world, after all.

It wasn't a mistake, Snape had told him. It was a weakness. His weakness. He'd loved – still did – his mum enough, so much so, that she – goodness knows how – had actually managed to break past the stone wall exterior of him and made him defy all good sense and reason to be with her.

He loved and gave into it.

Until last week, Harry could see Snape only as the human embodiment of all things good sense and reason – to the expense of all else.

Harry glanced at Snape, uncertainly, now as the Potions Master stepped passed him and made his way up to the desk at the front of the room.

Harry hadn't known what to do with it – at first – the glimpse that Snape had given him the week before. The revelation that Snape wasn't this emotionless robot, programmed only to care about Project War, who could drop any one of them – even his own daughter – with a wave of his wand and the utterance of a spell if it served to further that cause.

It was easier that way. It was easier to be angry, to blame him for all that had happened – he couldn't blame his mum right now, not while she was lying in St Mungo's – if he didn't care and if he thought that what Harry was feeling was stupid.

But Snape didn't think or feel any of those things.

He loved his mum so much he couldn't deny her. He loved Grace so much he had to walk away.

And, as Harry watched him gathering up the items on his desk, tucking parchments away into drawers, as he prepared to finish up for the holidays, Snape suddenly seemed very human.

Snape lifted his eyes from the desk, addressing him; "It has been arranged that you and your sister will spend Easter weekend at the Black Cottage."

"Oh," Harry frowned. Malachi had mentioned nothing of that during their – admittedly – brief encounters the past few days; "Why?"

"Professor Lupin will be indisposed that weekend," he indicated with a slight lift of his hand in the direction of the window, not looking at him as he reached and rolled up some parchments; "The moon cycle will not be in his favour."

"It's just one night. Why can't you?"

Snape met his eyes, looking duly unimpressed at the – apparent – suggestion.

"I mean, I can look after Grace; if we need something, I'll come and get you. Like I would any other professor."

"I would have thought you'd be glad to spend the weekend with your friend."

Harry hesitated at that. Actually, while he and Malachi had finally – finally – started talking again, Harry wasn't so sure Malachi would want Harry anywhere near his dad after what had happened. Harry knew Malachi hadn't really forgiven him – maybe he couldn't – for it, even if he was making a good show of pretending he had.

"Just seems like a bit of a hassle. And I…I wouldn't want to bother Mr. Black. After…"

"Mr. Black is more than willing," Snape assured him, heading towards Harry and handing him the parchments he had rolled up; "And a change of scenery and company will do yourself and your sister some good."

"What are these?" Harry took the parchments held out with a frown.

"Assignments to be completed by your next occlumency session to commence with me in the new term; the Headmaster shall be taking over these lessons for the duration of the holidays."

"Professor Dumbledore?" Harry looked up, sharply; "Why not you?"

Snape looked exasperated at the continuing questions; "I will be indisposed."

Harry felt his heart sink.

"You…you're going back?"

Snape glanced in the direction of the door before answering; "I never left."

Obviously, Harry knew that. Otherwise there would have been no reason for Grace's memories to be wiped, if what had happened to his mum had finally caused Snape to snap and defect. A pipedream if there ever was one.

"Oh," was all that Harry could find to say in response, as he fingered the parchments.

"Do try and stay out of trouble, Mr. Potter," Snape said, an obvious dismissal, before brushing on by him and going back to his desk.

Harry watched him go for a second, unable to muster up anything further to say – a question or a retort – and so he just walked to the door, stopping only to lift his schoolbag up as he made his way out. He glanced back over his shoulder when he reached the doorway, at the man who now busied himself behind the desk, and Harry struggled to push down a sense of rising dread that was building up within him at the understanding of just where Snape was to be spending the holidays.

Harry headed out and made his way down the corridor; but his unease only rose with each step until, finally, at the end of the corridor he abruptly turned and marched back down to the office.

The door was still open.

"I'm sorry."

It was blurted from his lips the second he stepped over the threshold, before Harry could even really make sense of what it was that he had come back to say.

Snape's eyes flicked from the desk to meet his from where he was still stood at the front of the room, nothing about his stance betraying any surprise at Harry's return and outburst.

Did Harry want to say he was sorry?

He supposed he did.

Harry pushed the door to the office shut; "I'm sorry," he repeated; "I didn't mean what I said to you last week."

Snape glanced away for the briefest of moments, straightening up, and when he looked back at Harry his arms came up to cross over his chest. It was almost as if he were bracing himself for what were to come next.

"I don't think we'd be better off without you. I don't. And I…I've been mad at you, alright? I've been mad. And I didn't know why, because I kept telling myself that you didn't owe me anything. That I shouldn't be angry with you because it didn't matter; you and me. We don't matter to each other. But…that's not true."

Harry finally admitted it. A truth he had been denying for months.

"You're practically my stepfather. But, even before I knew that, I trusted you. Maybe I still do. But every time I think that I can, or that I do, you do something crazy – or something crazy happens – like you turn out to be a Death Eater using my blood for reviving rituals; or I talk to you about my dad and Sirius and you tell my mum; or you're Grace's dad and you give me my memory of my dad back and you take my sister's of you away and you…you walked away from her. Mum's gone and you walked away."

Snape shook his head, clearly not unaffected by what Harry was saying, and made to speak but Harry carried on, stopping him because he knew what he was going to say.

"And I get it, okay? I understand why. I…It just blows, alright. I understand why you have to do what you do, but it blows. Because she needs you. We need you. But I know…I want you to know, that I know it's hard for you, too."

Rather than taking any sort of solace or comfort from Harry's outburst, Snape looked more guarded that ever; eyeing him as if one would an angry serpent, as he stood with his arms across his chest at the other side of the room.

Harry sighed, glancing away, and tried to keep his own exasperation from rising; "Look. I'm going to ask you to do something and it's something that you have to do. No excuses."

Snape raised an eyebrow at the statement, clearly finding his feet in light of Harry's change of tone; "And what might that be, Mr. Potter?"

"Don't die."

The statement, the order, hung over them in the silence.

Snape eyed Harry from where he stood – no longer so guarded, no longer so cold – and just when Harry thought that would be it, the man finally spoke.

"I'll do my best."

For the first time in months, Harry gave him a smile.

"I know you will, Sir."

Harry made to go, turned away from him, but then he paused, the wish to make Snape know that he wasn't alone when he was out there coming upon him – strangely and suddenly – and then Harry drew in a breath and turned back around, heading up to the desk.

Snape just watched him, arms still crossed, as he approached.

Harry reached into his robes, feeling for the rolled-up picture that Grace had given him at the Duel Club just before coming here. It wasn't a big deal to Harry, really. Grace drew him pictures all the time – had done since she ever could – but it would be a big deal to Snape, Harry knew.

Harry unrolled it, placing it before Snape on the desk.

It was a picture of the house – as best a five-year-old could recreate, anyway – and stick people of his mum and him and Grace were in front of it.

Snape simply looked at it.

Harry watched him for a second. A second was long enough. He caught it; that little flicker of emotion in Snape's eyes as he looked at the place they both called home.

Snape met his eyes, slowly. Gratitude – guarded gratitude, of course – was there when he did.

And Harry gave him another smile, before he turned and headed from the room.