Author's Note: Well, this has been in my drafts for a very long time! The months just seem to get away from me when my writing won't play nicely!
It was Wednesday before Severus could bear to bring himself to face Annie and Robin. He was an empty man, mechanically dealing with his Slytherins as some of them suddenly found themselves without suitable guardians as their parents were taken into custody. One night, he had been called to the Headmaster's office, where, before Dumbledore and the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, he'd swallowed veritaserum and answered for his loyalty. He hardly slept, plagued with the memory of Lily and imagined snatches of her final moments.
He'd been afraid that perhaps Annie's house might be in disarray after his few days away, but it was as neat and tidy as Annie could make it, no different to usual. A little worn, but clean enough.
Robin must have heard the back door open, because Severus had made it hardly five steps in before a small boy cannonballed into him, headbutting him firmly in the stomach. "Daddy!"
"Robin," Severus wheezed in return, bending to pick up the little boy, relishing the feel of the warm body clinging to him, limpet-like, though he was quite heavy for Severus' exhausted state.
"I thought you might have been dead," Annie said, her voice cold as she blocked the doorway to the living room. "When you didn't come back. You seemed… ill."
"I didn't want you to be dead, Daddy!"
Severus glared at Annie. "Well, I'm not dead. I'm here. Have you had your tea, Robin?"
The little boy nodded assuredly, digging little fingers into Severus' collar. "Yes. I had egg and beans, and toast, and Mummy cut the toast into soldiers."
Annie tried to ask where he'd been, but he cut her short with a withering glare usually reserved for third years who had destroyed a cauldron. Instead, he acted as if it was a normal evening, as if he had been here just yesterday. He heard Robin read from his book, then helped the little boy into the bath and into pyjamas warmed on the radiator. Then a drink of warm milk- a childish habit Robin had not yet broken- followed by a trip to the loo and a closely supervised toothbrushing, and Robin was ensconced beneath his blankets.
He looked up at Severus with his bottomless eyes. "Where did you go, Daddy?" he asked pleadingly. "Why did you go away?"
Severus looked down at him. "I had other things to attend to, Robin." His heart twisted as he saw the flash in Robin's eyes before the boy turned to face the wall. "Would you like to hear some more about the Wizard and the Hopping Pot?" he asked.
Robin hesitated, before nodding slowly. Severus took the book from the shelf and settled on the edge of the bed to read.
It seemed to take Robin a very long time to fall asleep, and it was later than usual when Severus made his way back downstairs. At least there were no homework checks to do for his Slytherins whilst the school was in such disarray, or he would be running very late. And Annie clearly wanted to talk. She'd made two mugs of tea. She even had biscuits on a plate. He eyed them suspiciously. "What's this in aid of, Annie?"
"I… I thought you might want to talk," she admitted quietly. "I was worried, Severus! You were in such pain… what happened?"
He sighed deeply, sinking onto the worn sofa. "I do need to speak to you," he admitted. She perched on the other end of the sofa expectantly, her mug in her hands. Severus tipped his head back and closed his eyes. He hated to say this aloud. It made it more real, somehow. "I can't tell you what happened," he said. "It's a very, very long story, and I can't tell it correctly. But I do need to tell you that Lily died on Halloween night. Lily and her husband."
Annie gasped, ready tears forming in the corners of her eyes. Severus despised her for it. "Oh no! How?" she asked.
"Murdered," Severus said shortly. "Their killer is… dead." It was inadequate, but what else could he say? The whole sorry tale would take hours, and even then, he was not sure he could make Annie understand. He'd been careful not to discuss wizarding politics with her, especially not the Dark Lord.
"Oh, Severus…" Annie whispered. "Oh, that's terrible…"
"Yes," Severus agreed. "It is." He refused to insult Lily's memory with platitudes about being in some better place, though he was surprised that Annie did not. She lapsed into silence, her unsteady breathing the only hint of her distress.
Eventually, she asked, "did her death have to do with your disappearance, that night?"
Severus sighed. He had not expected her to be so perceptive, but she had her moments. She was surprisingly lucid. When he'd glanced in the cupboard earlier, it was clear that she was taking her medication properly. Perhaps that was why. "It was connected," he admitted eventually.
Annie mulled this over. She turned her empty mug this way and that, her fingers never stopping, always moving with nervous energy. "I was very worried," she admitted. "When we didn't see you for so many days… and I've never seen you in pain like that before… I really did worry about what had happened to you, and Robin… he kept asking for you."
"My apologies. I did not mean to upset him, or worry you. There were… duties I had to fulfill."
She nodded, cradling her tea and staring into the milky depths as she tried to find the words. "Severus… I know I have tried to stop you from seeing Robin, I know I have tried to distance you but… he is your son, and he loves you. I… I can't take that away from him. He was so frightened when you were gone, and I couldn't tell him where you were… I'm sorry. I shouldn't have tried. I know he is yours too, not just mine."
Severus found himself having to swallow an awkward lump in his throat. The words grated him his mouth, unfamiliar in honesty. "Thank you," he forced out. "I appreciate your saying so. I do care about him, very deeply- and I would not like to see your health suffer from worrying."
They lapsed into a silence that was more comfortable than it had been between them for months. Severus took a biscuit, dipped it in his tea. Finally, when his mug was empty, he sighed. "I should get back. I have perhaps been too long already." His muscles protested as he stood- he had barely been sleeping, and the exhaustion was beginning to tell. "My thanks for the tea, Annie. I will be back tomorrow evening, as usual."
It was only when he'd gone through the door to the kitchen that her small voice stopped him. "Severus… wait."
She sounded so afraid that he turned with a frown. She had stood, her empty mug dangling from her fingers. She looked at him beseechingly, then to the floor. "Severus… I know… I know that you refused, but perhaps… maybe, your feelings have changed…. For Robin…I really didn't know how much I cared, you see, until you… I worried, you know..."
"What on earth are you trying to say, Annie?" he asked, trying to hide the frustration in his tone.
She swallowed hard. "Severus, won't you reconsider marrying me?"
The world seemed to stand still as Severus stared at her. His brain didn't seem to be able to process her words, her meaning. She looked at him with a plea in her eyes. "Please, Severus. For Robin? I know it won't be what I've wanted, not totally… I know you can probably never love me as I would want but can't we…"
Severus held up both hands. "Annie… I… I…" It was at the tip of his tongue to say no, that she was being ridiculous, but instead, he heard himself say "I need time. Please, Annie… I need some time to think."
She looked shocked. "You're not refusing me?" He couldn't miss the hope in her voice.
"I don't know," he stammered. "I'm not saying yes, I'm not saying no, I just need to… I need to go." He all but sprinted from the house, barely making it to the trees before he was turning, swirling out into the void of apparition.
None of his thoughts were clear; everything seemed just tantalisingly out of the reach of comprehension. He stood with his hand on the Hogwarts gate for a moment before turning away. He could not go up to the castle like this, in this state. He had no idea why Annie had thrown him so much, but he could not go anywhere near Dumbledore and his infernal habit of reading minds with his thoughts in such turmoil. Instead, he began a slow wander down the road to Hogsmeade.
Why hadn't he refused her instantly? Why had he frozen? Did he… could he, want to marry her? Hadn't he been thinking, just days before, that he could countenance living with Annie if he were to cease teaching and go back to mediwizardry? He had not considered sharing her bed, certainly- in fact, he wasn't sure what he had intended regarding sleeping arrangements in the two-bedroomed house. But if he was willing to live with her, and she understood that the marriage would never be a normal, loving one, then what was the harm? It would please her, it would give Robin some stability. He knew that he could never love again, now that Lily… now that there was no hope of Lily ever leaving Potter and coming to him, it mattered little what his romantic life was. Perhaps it would be convenient. Annie was certainly not physically repulsive to him: she might fill a need he'd been stoppering with paid women, though he couldn't imagine being so rough with her as he was with them…
He took a deep, shuddering breath. To even be considering this, with Annie, with a woman he didn't love! He had promised himself that he would not cheapen love so, to give his promises where his heart did not lie. He leaned against a fence at the side of the path, looking down on the lights of Hogsmeade. It still seemed so wrong, that life could just go on, when Lily was gone- that people were celebrating! Yes, they celebrated the fall of the Dark Lord, and mourned Lily and Potter, but that they could look past the yawning void of a Lily-less world and find joy, and pleasure?
He thought about little Harriet, wondered where she was, how she fared. Did she understand, would she remember what had happened? He knew, really, that she was too young to form lasting memory, but with so traumatic an event, did it replay now in her infant dreams? Was she frightened, without her mother to comfort her? He brought his arms to his chest, as if he still cradled her warm, solid body. He missed that… he missed the feeling of an infant in his arms. When Annie had told him that she was expecting Robin, he'd never have thought that he would come to love the child, or appreciate the feeling of little hands clinging to him, but he had. Robin was growing up now, old enough to manage his own bath with very little supervision, to read his own childish book and to brush his own teeth. Severus had never thought that he'd miss the helplessness of a baby; he'd been so sure that he'd prefer a self-sufficient child. But he actually missed having a little creature so reliant on him. Maybe, if he were to marry Annie, she would have another baby, a little girl, perhaps, this time… Perhaps he could do better with another child, give it a good start in life, without the tie of his service to the Dark Lord. He could be a proper father, there for more than an hour or two a day. He could be respectable...
He shook his head. He was caught in idle fantasy. He couldn't marry Annie. He couldn't stop teaching; Dumbledore had made sure of that. Annie couldn't live at Hogwarts, the anti-muggle charms saw to that. And a marriage without cohabitation… it was pointless. His life would be the same as it was now, just with a ring around his finger, and possible marital duties to fulfill in addition.
He took a lungful of the cold November air, feeling maybe a little more alive. The night chill was setting in well now, his breath puffing before his face and his nose stinging a little. He may have felt a hundred, but he was only in his twenties. The Dark Lord was dead, or at least gone for at least some time. He was exonerated from wrongdoing by Dumbledore's testimony. He may not be free, but at least he now served only one master, not two. It was time to be grateful for what he had, and to begin to live. He couldn't stop teaching, so he couldn't marry Annie, but with a little more time and a little less stress in his life, he could do better. He could be a better teacher, and he could do better by his son. He would spend more time with Robin, he promised into the darkness.
He was chilled, but calm when he turned and wended his steps back towards Hogwarts. He strode through the dim corridors of the school without his usual stalk, and without any desire of finding students out of bed to punish. Before retiring to his quarters, he took his usual nightly round into Slytherin, to ensure that everyone was in bed and accounted for- he never quite trusted the spells on the beds that warned of a student where they shouldn't be.
He had crept along the girl's corridor, listening for telltale giggling and finding none, and was softly treading towards the boy's side when a soft sniffle caught his ear. He turned towards the banked fire and perceived there a humped form on the floor, half-leaning against a large wingback chair. "What is the matter?" he asked, even his low voice seeming loud in the room.
A pale face turned up. "Professor… I…" Jethro Selwyn. A death-eater's long-awaited second child, born after a decade-long succession of miscarriages and stillbirths, with two short-lived babies in between. Severus knew the family's troubles well, and he could guess this one. He felt an odd tug at his heart: Selwyn senior had been in the dock today.
He moved towards the third year, perching on the edge of the next chair over. "Have you heard from home?" he asked.
Trembling so hard it was difficult to see the motion, Jethro nodded.
"May I ask what the news is?" Severus asked.
"Professor… you served… you were…with my father…" Jethro gasped involuntarily, then, drawing in a steadier breath, continued, "my father said that you and he were companions in the Dark Lord's confidence. But he… Professor, is he even still alive, is he even still there, after the dementors-"
Ah. So Selwyn had been Kissed. Severus was still a little chilled from his walk, but that was nothing to the icy hand that gripped his heart. "I am so very, very sorry, Jethro," Severus murmured. "I truly wish there was something that I could say to comfort you, and I wish that I could bring your father back. But no, there is nothing after a Dementor's Kiss. I can at least tell you that he will feel no more pain, and there is nothing that can upset him now." The fate of his soul was more of an issue, but that wasn't something Severus felt he was qualified to discuss, particularly not with a distraught fourteen year old child.
He waited for Jethro to turn on him. He waited for, at least, the unspoken question- why was Jethro's father worse than dead when Severus sat there, apparently completely unharmed by the prosecutions? He actually expected more than just angry words; he would not have been surprised by a physical retaliation. But the recriminations did not come. "I don't think I can sleep, Sir," Jethro said softly. "I keep imagining it… imagining what it must have felt like… I could hardly read my brother's letter, Sir, it was so tear-stained, the penmanship so shaky. My brother never cried before."
Severus could bear it no longer. The boy must hate him, hate that Severus sat here with his freedom, whilst Selwyn Senior was a husk. There was no comfort he could realistically give to the boy. He reached down with an unsure hand, laid it on Jethro's rumpled head in something like a benediction. "I will fetch you some dreamless sleep," he said. "Stay here until I return."
He intended to send Jethro up to bed after dosing him, but the child was still terrified. Somehow, Severus found himself sitting in the shadowy darkness, with the boy curled against his shoulder, slowly drifting to an empty, visionless slumber.
It could have been Robin, fatherless.
It could have been Draco.
It was Jethro.
The thought made him sick. The sins of the fathers were visited on the sons. And how could he, Severus, with his own little son hidden away safely and his own hide somehow, miraculously, safe, how could he begin to advise these bereft children? There would be more: Jethro was certainly not the only Slytherin child to have family turned over to the authorities. Lucius might have given in the first wave, the most loyal, those of highest rank, but they quickly squealed to have their own sentences reduced. It was those like Selwyn, with no one left to incriminate, that faced the full wrath of the Wizengamot.
Eventually, he levitated Jethro up to his room, tucking the blankets of his bed tight around the slumbering boy with something like parental affection. Jethro's room-mate slept on, unaware- probably- that his friend had ever been out of bed. Jethro must have gone to the common room to avoid disturbing him with tears.
Severus did not return to his own quarters immediately. He sat before the dying embers of the fire in the common room, staring past the glowing ruby coals. Jethro Selwyn must despise him; so many of the Slytherins must despise him. He wasn't fit to advise them, lead them. He had sought a coward's release, he had not faced up to his actions and taken his punishment. The brand on his arm was as sure an indication of guilt as their fathers', their brothers, their friends bore. Anyone else bearing that brand was being subject to punishment- all except him.
He could not possibly hope to retain their trust. As their head of house, he should safeguard their interests in the school, but how could he, when they would see him as a coward and deserter?
He'd have to give up the position as head of house. He could not continue, no matter Dumbledore's insistence- surely, the headmaster could see the impossible position? He could remain as the potions master, just give up his position as head of Slytherin. The loss of the stipend would be unfortunate, but he'd been making a few galleons lately by brewing medicinal potions for the apothecary in Hogsmeade, who was growing too frail to manage long brewing sessions. He'd lose his quarters, of course, have to move off the school premises...
Sudden clarity hit him. His eyes flickered up, focusing on the fire once again. Everything fell into perfect alignment in his mind. Dumbledore had insisted that he stayed to teach, but it was Minerva who had put him forward as head of Slytherin. Dumbledore had mentioned nothing about that. He could continue to teach, and live with Annie and Robin, commute to the school to teach. There was nothing to stop a non-resident teacher from marrying. Many of the professors were married, had children. He could give Robin some semblance of normality, a father who was there for more than a fleeting hour a day. Perhaps, with that stability, Annie's health would improve…
He could make Annie happier for no more than a few meaningless words on his part. There was no Lily; so there was no impediment to his marriage to Annie. A promise made in a Christian church would be an empty one for him. What did he care what he said before a God in whom he did not believe? Money would be tighter without his head-of-house stipend, but they could manage. Madam Pomfrey had approached him last month about taking on some of the brewing for the endless potions that the students seemed to need; perhaps he could wrangle a few more galleons out of Dumbledore for that now, along with brewing for the Hogsmeade apothecary.
He hated himself for feeling suddenly lighter, freer. His freedom seemed bitter when so many of his former comrades languished in cells, and he did feel remorse for them, but somehow it all seemed to work out. He could keep the requirements of his bargain with Dumbledore and still do his duty by his son. He still resented the loss of a mediwizard's eventual earnings, but money was a lesser concern, really. He had managed before; he would manage again. With sudden new purpose, he rose to his feet. He'd failed Lily. He'd failed his Death Eater associates, and he'd failed the children under his care. He wouldn't fail his son. It was a lighter man who left the Slytherin common room to return to his own bed.
He expected his quarters to be in darkness, as he'd left them. He knew there would be a fire- a house-elf had taken a particular fancy to Robin on the two occasions he had visited and seemed to have adopted Severus' interests- but he did not expect his lamps to be lit, nor for a regal blond to be sitting bolt upright in his favourite armchair. "Lucius," he said carefully. Lucius turned his head to look at Severus, but he did not rise
"You keep strange hours, Severus."
"I had duties to attend to. Selwyn's been Kissed. His younger son is a third year."
Lucius made an odd little noise of what might have been agreement. "I had thought the boy was not yet school aged," he offered.
"You are still walking free, I see," Severus commented, hanging his robes on the stand by the door.
"Mmm, Lucius agreed. "As are you." His fingers tightened on the arms of the chair. "You cannot know the drive there is to protect one's child."
The retort was in Severus' throat, but he stopped himself. Old habits died hard. In any case, he remembered Dumbledore's suspicions: that the Dark Lord was only weakened, not defeated. If he rose again, Robin's secrecy would be as tantamount as before. And Severus knew that Lucius' views on muggles had matched those of the Dark Lord, even in the later days. Malfoy detested those without magic. "Perhaps. Though I have seventy-eight children under my care. A number of whom are now without parents." Lucius wouldn't know, of course, that there were currently only seventy-seven Slytherin students, but Severus felt better when he numbered Robin among them.
It was a barbed comment, accusatory. Lucius stared woodenly forward. "At least they have you to support them," he said.
Severus sighed and dropped onto the sofa. "Not for long. I have decided to give my notice as head of house."
That, at least, made Lucius turn his head quite sharply. "Why?"
"I cannot lead by example," Severus said shortly. "I have escaped punishment by nothing but my connections, and that is not the message I wish to give the children. They would be better with someone out of this crisis; apart from these politics."
A single furrow dove between Lucius' brows. "We rely on you, Severus, to keep the old ways amongst the youngsters," he said. Severus knew he didn't mean religion; the Malfoys changed their religious allegiances on a whim, depending on the prevailing attitude of the day. He meant the ways that kept the old families like the Malfoys in power. The ways that preached the superiority of undiluted magical blood, the ways that held the patriarch in highest regard. "Without you to guide them, Severus, we will lose all credibility. Surely, you cannot wish the likes of Dumbledore to have his way so completely? Slytherin house is the only bastion from his foolish notions left at Hogwarts."
"His foolish notions?" Severus asked.
He expected an answer regarding the superiority of purebloods, but he was surprised. "He is a meddlesome old fool, you know that as well as I," Lucius said. "With his fingers in every pie. He's providing for poorer families in return for their support in his notions. He's turning the world to his own ends, Severus, and training all our young to blindly follow with no questions. We need some who remember, some who keep to the Old Ways, and not Dumbledore's vision for his perfect, unquestioning world."
"Perhaps Dumbledore is not so wrong," Severus said shortly. "Perhaps he is simply showing charity to families like the Weasleys and the Harveys?"
The firelight flickered over Lucius' icy features. "You don't believe that." Severus wanted to argue, but Lucius was right. He didn't believe that Dumbledore was nothing but a kindly old man. His charity came with a price, and how well Severus knew that!
"I'm one man," he said. "I cannot fight the tide."
"Then what have we been fighting for? What kind of world will my son inherit?"
"The same one as everybody else's sons, I should imagine," Severus said with a barb in his tone. "It's late, Lucius. Why are you here?"
"Merely concern for your welfare, Severus. We have been allies for a long time, you and I, and fortunate it is indeed that I did come. You need the reminder of yourself."
Of course Lucius would want to begin to build his life again, seek allies and position now that the hope on which he'd hung his ambition was gone. "Go home to your wife and child, and appreciate the fact that you are alive and sane enough to appreciate them."
Lucius sighed. "You, too, should go to bed, Severus. You're as churlish as Draco when he's up past his bedtime."
Severus scoffed. He didn't go to bed, instead sitting staring into the fire long after the green from Lucius' departure had faded, taking his previous lightness of spirit with it.
When he pulled himself from his chair after no more than a few fitful moments of sleep to go to breakfast, he found the Great Hall almost empty. Barely any children at all sat at the long house tables, most home with their families whilst the wizarding world celebrated the demise of the Dark Lord. Or, in the case of some, supporting family through endless rounds of Death Eater trials, and mourning. Jethro wasn't amongst the small, quiet knot of Slytherin students. Severus would check on him as soon as breakfast was done.
He glanced at Dumbledore, presiding over the head table with a broad smile. He should ask to meet with the headmaster immediately following the meal, hand in his notice as head of Slytherin, but he did need to see to Jethro first. His eyes roved over his little band. Was he truly abandoning them? He owed it to them to tell them himself, he realised. He wouldn't let Dumbledore shut him out so quickly… perhaps, he mused, he should tell them first. They had the right to know, and if he told them first, then presented it as a fait accompli to Dumbledore, then the headmaster could not blackmail him into staying, not without revealing his own manipulative nature.
When the plates before the students were mostly clear, he left his own untouched breakfast and descended to the house table, tapping Gertrude Parkinson on the shoulder. "Please gather everyone into the common room for nine," he asked quietly.
"Yes, Professor," she said softly. She was the only Slytherin prefect who had stayed during the school closure. She was also highly efficient, and when he swept into the common room, all thirteen of the remaining students were there, including a drawn and grey Jethro.
Severus licked his dry lips. "Thank you for your time," he said. "I wanted you to be the first to know that I will be stepping down as your Head of House. I intend to continue teaching, and for as long as I am at Hogwarts, you may always seek me out for help, but I can no longer lead this house."
There was a moment of stunned silence before a timid voice spoke up. "Professor… why?"
Severus looked at Jethro's drawn, questioning face. "I have always attempted to foster certain values in Slytherin," he began slowly. "Honour, loyalty, and, above all, responsibility for your own actions. I don't feel that I am able to adequately demonstrate these qualities anymore."
There was a furious whispering in the corner as two second year students muttered into Gertrude's ear. She straightened, clearly the spokesperson. "Who would replace you, Professor?"
"I don't know," Severus admitted. "Nothing is decided as of yet. I suppose, perhaps Professor Sinistra." Sinistra officially had no house loyalty, having been educated abroad. He and Vector were the only Slytherin alumni on staff, and Vector had a six month old baby.
Gertrude now listened to Jethro's low voice, still scratchy from his tears the night before and Severus realised she'd quickly made her way around all of the little knot of students, listening to each. She looked him dead in the eye. "We don't want anyone else, Professor," she said firmly. "You have our best interests at heart; you've looked after us for three years now, and we don't want you to go."
Severus' frown deepened. "Many, perhaps most, of you have lost family and friends in the war. You need to be guided by someone who is… better able to offer you support." To those that knew his position through their own family connections, the meaning should be clear. They needed someone who was not exonerated by nothing more than dumb luck. They needed someone who knew more than life under the Dark Lord.
Gertrude certainly knew. The younger sister of Henricus, one of the Death Eaters who even now languished in ministry cells, she had met Severus in more social surroundings. Now, though, she stuck out her chin and addressed him politely, as a teacher, not as a friend of her brother's. "You said that Slytherins should be loyal, and we are loyal to you. Be loyal to us, Professor. We need you."
"Professor Sinistra would be much better suited-"he began, but Gertrude interrupted him.
"With respect, Professor, but she won't. She is very clear on her distaste for Slytherin… and the politics of our families. She doesn't use words, but she's very capable of telling us with her actions."
Severus swallowed his sigh of frustration. Aurora Sinistra was Dumbledore's woman through and through, and she made no secret of her dislike of him in the staffroom. He hadn't thought that she would be unprofessional enough to show it in her classroom, though. Perhaps she'd jump at the opportunity to turn the house into yet another factory for Albus' good little minions, but perhaps not. If Sinistra turned down the position, perhaps Vector would take it- Albus may have to allow a member of staff to have a child living in the school after all. Vector had been head of house when Severus was a student. In Severus' opinion, he had not been the best head of house that he could have been. He had not noticed, after all, the fingers of the Dark Lord creeping through the students under his care, taking so many into the circle of Death Eaters. Would he allow the same to happen again?
He thought of Robin and made an attempt to harden his heart. His son had to come first. "Any teacher here will always have your best interests at heart," he told his students. "You are correct, of course, to recognise that politics colours our world, but all your teachers know that you are too young to take part in those politics. They will not hold it against you. In any case, our world is changing. It is wise to hear differing opinions into account, and listen to different voices before making your own conclusions."
He truly had to admire Gertrude. She didn't snivel, she didn't beg. She stood calmly at the centre of his little group of Slytherins. "All of us believe that you are the best person to lead us," she said firmly. "We will not recognise another head of house."
An ultimatum? Well. That was interesting. He wasn't sure whether to tell her that the choice did not lie with them, or congratulate her on her unwavering stance. In either case, he found himself touched by their loyalty. Loyalty. One of the traits he'd listed as the hallmark of a Slytherin. He'd spent the last years telling them that loyalty was important, only to fall as far from loyalty as was possible in his personal dealings. And yet, here they were, doing what he said and not what he did. He looked around at the faces of this skeleton of his house. Jethro was crying again, though he was doing his very best to hide the tears that crept down his cheeks. These were his students, his responsibility…
But so was Robin. "This is not your decision," he informed them, and left before any of them could voice another opinion. He heard Gertrude call "Professor!" after him as he shut the common room door.
He'd intended to go straight to Albus, but the betrayed expression on Jethro's face would not leave his mind's eye. He found himself climbing higher and higher in the castle instead, right up to the top level of the South Tower. It had been unused since before Severus himself was a student- even the house elves barely made the trek up to clear the dust and the cobwebs up here. A few pellets and a mouse skull or two suggested that some of the owls had used this tower instead of the owlery on occasion. Severus braced his elbows on the sill of a glassless window and gazed out across the quidditch pitch and the forest. Why did he not feel lighter? His path had seemed so clear at breakfast.
Jethro needed someone, but so did Robin. Jethro might have lost a father, but he had a mother, two brothers to provide for him. Robin only had him. Suddenly he was overwhelmed with guilt, the weight of it hunching his shoulders forward as he sucked in breath. All the dangers he had placed himself in in the service of the Dark Lord, in the service of Dumbledore, and his child might have been left fatherless, essentially orphaned! Who would have provided the money for shelter, for food? Who would have made sure that Annie took her medication so she could care for Robin?
The thought of baby Harriet hunched him still further into himself.
The sun was rising towards its zenith in the sky before he finally straightened out and stretched the kinks from his back. He should feel freer than he had since he was seventeen, he mused- free from the Dark Lord's desires. Free even from the shackles of his own devotion to Lily. But somehow, he still wasn't free at all.
Not yet.
A quick tempus showed that lunch would begin in a scant half-hour, but he might just have time to catch Dumbledore in his office. Turning, he hurried down the stairs, taking two at a time.
He was on the west corridor when he heard the taunts. "Death Eater!" a young voice called, jeering. For a moment, Severus thought that the cry was aimed at him, but it came from around the next corner. The student could not possibly see him. To whom, then, was he addressing his remarks?
He took in the scene in a moment as he rounded the corner. Sean Atkins, a sixth-year Ravenclaw, loomed down over Jethro as the smaller student huddled against the wall. "Mr Atkins," Severus sneered. "Thirty points from Ravenclaw. I will not have you tormenting other students."
Atkins glowered at him, but he was too much of a bully and a coward to take on a teacher. Severus arched one eyebrow, and Atkins turned tail.
Jethro unpeeled himself from the wall. Severus swept a gaze over the boy. He didn't appear injured, only shaken. "You are unhurt?"
"Yes, Sir," Jethro replied shakily.
"You look unwell. Gods know you have every right to." He grasped Jethro's shoulder in an attempt at a reassuring gesture. "I'll bring you some dreamless sleep before lights out tonight. Go on to lunch now."
"Thanks, Professor," Jethro said heavily, turning away. A few steps down the corridor, however, he spun around to face Severus. The words tumbled from his mouth so fast that Severus had to listen carefully just to follow the gist. He stepped closer, closing the gap between them.
"There's no other teacher who would care about my father or who would understand, they'd just say that the punishment must fit the crime and I must be careful not to fall into his ways but I hate what happened to my family and you understand, Professor, I think you understand because you didn't say that but you didn't say that he sacrificed himself to the service of the Dark Lord either so I think you know that it's not all simple-"
"Jethro, breathe," Severus advised. "Stop, and breathe."
Jethro, wide eyed, obeyed. "Any teacher here will always have your best interests at heart," he told his student. "What I said earlier still stands true- there are sometimes deadly politics at work in the world, but here, at Hogwarts, you are only a child in need of education. You are not responsible for the actions of your , go to lunch. You need to eat, or you will become unwell."
Jethro nodded once, hard, and with a determination in his step, went towards the great hall. Severus watched him go. He was so lost in his own thoughts that he flinched when Aurora appeared from around the opposite corner to the one from which he'd approached. "You should not give them such false hopes of a perfect world, Severus," she said. "It will only make them believe that they are right."
He looked down at her from his greater height. "You witnessed that-" he hesitated, searching for the correct word, then drawing it out- "altercation?"
"I did."
"And you did not think to intervene?"
Aurora shrugged elegantly. "Surely even you, Severus, can see that it is best if the children of Death Eaters are shown the error of their parents' ways. We would not wish to breed another generation, after all."
He managed to keep his face impassive and his voice level. "Indeed."
She did not try to follow him to lunch.
After the meal, Dumbledore laid a hand on Severus' arm. He had to fight not to shake it off, a flare of revulsion firing deep within him. He allowed Dumbledore to draw him to one side, away from prying eyes and ears. "I have heard a rumour that you are unhappy with your head of house duties, Severus," the headmaster said softly. "Am I to understand that I shall have to replace you?"
Though Dumbledore's words were neutral, his tone was steely. Severus did not hesitate a moment. "No, Headmaster. The Slytherins need me."