"Here," Severus snapped, his bedroom door hitting the wall with a thud as he threw it open. He couldn't bring himself to care about the mark he'd most certainly made on the plaster; his father had loved to slam this door—one more mark wouldn't mean a thing. "Take it in. As you can see, I do not spend my summers in luxury, unlike some."
"Is this your room, then?" Arthur asked, frowning a little as his eyes raked over the barren walls and floor, and the dusty furniture he hadn't yet bothered to spell clean. Severus imagined himself seizing the quill on the floor by his wardrobe and jamming it into Weasley's eye, imagined the blood and the screams. He blinked hard to force the image to defragment and slip away like it had never been. "Or a spare? Where has Harry been sleeping?"
"Downstairs on the sofa. He has enough blankets and pillows to asphyxiate him in his sleep, and a Cushioning Charm has been placed on the sofa itself." He needed to renew that, speaking of. "I have been very busy brewing for both the Dark Lord and for the Order, and haven't had the time to clean out the storage room."
That got Weasley's attention immediately. He wished it hadn't. "Storage room? What's inside of the storage room?"
"Stored items. Nothing of importance," Severus said shortly, praying he would drop the subject.
"May I see it?"
Lupin hadn't pressed him, but Severus knew Arthur certainly would. He hadn't raided Malfoy Manor and other countless residences for nothing. If he were to refuse him the dubious honor of seeing his parents' vacant bedroom, what would happen? Was he willing to take the risk and find out? "Very well." He kept his voice cool and unconcerned, leading them both back out onto the landing. Severus forced himself to push past the self-loathing already gathering low in his gut and opened the door, shoving it open as wide as it could go until it pushed against a mound of musty old clothes. "Here we are. The storage room."
It seemed, suddenly, to be more of a wreck than he was used to. There were layers of discarded clothing coating the floor like a hideous rug, bits of rubbish he'd never had the energy to clean up, books on Dark magic and potions shoved in the corner, and—the worst of it all—the tattered remnants of his parents' mattress scattered on the floor like a wild animal had ravaged it. He'd left the wardrobe in the corner open last week; blankets and linens spilled out of it.
I can explain this, he wanted to say, even as he knew he could never.
"Those aren't mine," Severus managed to mutter, when he followed Weasley's line of sight to three empty bottles gathered at the side of the cobwebbed nightstand. "As I said…the room isn't currently fit for human consumption."
Arthur nodded slightly, eyes still fixed on the bottles. Then, noticing the books stacked in the corner opposite, "And those? Are they yours?"
"Yes. Most of those are mine."
"Your father…Was he, ah…" There was a crease furrowing deep into Arthur's forehead. "Was he a follower, too, then? Of You-Know-Who?"
"He's dead," Severus said shortly, "so I don't believe he's following much of anything these days."
There was no response to that. The two of them stood motionless for a few, horrifically uncomfortable seconds. "I have a question for you," said Weasley finally, in a firmer but quieter voice than he'd been using so far. "About Harry. I think you'll understand where I'm coming from with this."
Severus glanced at the open door and hesitantly closed it. The boy had been lingering at the bottom of the stairwell last he'd seen. Whatever Weasley had to say, it couldn't be good. "Go on."
"Yes. Well, from my understanding…The books I've found in headquarters on the subject have led me to believe that when you teach Harry Occlumency, you're capable of seeing his thoughts and memories. Is this correct?"
Where was he going with this? As much as he despised Potter, Severus wasn't willing to parade his memories round the Order. "To a degree, yes. I see vague flashes of memories. Some more vivid than others. Why?"
"I suppose that's what I'm hoping for. During these flashes, have you by any chance noticed anything—odd? Anything abnormal, in any way? Maybe even…" Arthur looked at the bottles again. "…familiar?"
A terrible sense of foreboding struck him, though he wasn't entirely sure why. Perhaps it had to do with this awful room, and the hundreds of memories it sent pressing against the insides of his eyelids. "Familiar?"
"I hope I'm not intruding on your privacy, Severus, especially on such a sensitive matter, but my children have told me—things—about Harry's family that have never sat quite right with me."
There was a hot, shivery sensation curdling his stomach now. "Things," Severus repeated slowly, shoulders tensing and defenses rising. "What do you mean?"
"I mean bars on his bedroom windows, starvation as a punishment…perhaps even…beatings. Of course," Weasley said, too quickly for comfort, "this is only hearsay. I don't have evidence of any sort. I only know the bare bones of the story. But you've been in his memories. You've seen Harry's childhood. You should…know, shouldn't you? If there's been any ill treatment? Any—and I hesitate to say it—any abuse? "
"You don't have bars on your windows, so there won't be any kidnapping attempts," Potter had said, days before.
Bars on the windows…
"Is that a tale he tells to every adult he meets, then?" Severus sneered, glowering at the wall. "Bars on the windows? I've seen no such memory. The worst of it has been his cousin forcing him to stand inside of a toilet, and…"
A cold, dark room, with the walls pressing in. He could hear the tinny laughter from a television set, and the sound of cutlery scraping against china. He was hungry, so hungry, and so desperately lonely he couldn't hardly breathe.
"You see, Vernon, when you cane the whelp, you have to hit the fleshy parts of the legs. Avoid the bones—people these days have been nosing into the right to discipline ungrateful beasts. You don't want social services called. What would the neighbors think? Bruises show at the bones. It's the flesh that leaves little mark."
"Severus?"
A cold sweat coated him and his hands were trembling. Swallowing hard, Severus Occluded the not-memory away, shaking his head.
"Did you remember something?" Arthur pressed, stepping in front of him to break his line of sight. "Is Harry safe there?"
He'd nearly lost it. It would not happen again. It could not. Looking Weasley dead in the eye, Severus said coldly, "I have no idea what you're talking about. I believe this visit is over. Shut the door on your way out."
—
He was bleeding. That was nothing unusual, after a Death Eater summons, so Severus found no need to pay the wounds any mind.
He limped away from Malfoy Manor and rubbed a hand down his face, squeezing his burning eyes shut for an instant before he shook himself roughly and continued down the long drive. Why Lucius needed a driveway, he'd never know, Severus thought sourly, seeing as how he had no car and never would. It made things terribly inconvenient when the Apparition point was across the boundary line of the property.
(Lucius still had not brought up the missing payment. Severus was decidedly not going to remind him.)
A feverish haze swept over him as he neared the end of the drive; he stopped in his tracks and shook himself again, but regretted it when his head spun like he was about to faint. Severus glanced round his darkened surroundings and eased himself onto the ground. The grass was wet. He could feel the cold damp sinking into the seat of his pants through his robes. Shifting position slightly, he dragged one arm of his robes through the dew and patted it into his heated face. The icy breeze stung his cheeks.
His nose was running. Sniffling, Severus leaned back a little and looked up at the sky, closing his eyes against the light patter of rain. Breathing in the scent of wet earth and grass to clear his mind and recenter himself, he eventually laid down fully and drifted for an eternity.
The rain had stopped by the time Severus came to. He cast a hoarse tempus and got to his unsteady feet, shivering violently. His clothing was soaked through. A harsh wind slammed into him, chilling him to the bone; he dried himself and muttered a quick focillo to warm his robes and hair. Then, hoping he hadn't picked up any ticks, he continued on down the driveway, and Apparated.
London was caught in the last dregs of the rain Severus had only just escaped, and he stole inside Grimmauld Place quickly, with furtive movements. The candles on the walls of the foyer had been blown out; the darkness of the house was absolute. Severus moved down the hall quietly and opened the door to the basement without so much as a creak. Stealing down the stairs, he descended into the kitchen and scanned the room for any signs of life. Then, finding none, he made a beeline for the sink and drank deeply from it, polluted water be damned. He'd only just begun to unload the Order's share of Veritaserum when the fire sprung to life on the opposite side of the kitchen and Sirius Black called out from behind, "Snooping, are we, Snivellus?"
Severus's wand was in his hand before he could register the words. Whirling round, he raised his arm with an incantation on his lips—and Black disarmed him before he could so much as open his mouth.
His wand clattered against the stone floor and rolled underneath the table.
"What do you want?" Severus snarled, edging one foot in the direction his wand had gone in.
"What do I want? I'm not the one skulking about at midnight, uninvited, while everyone is in bed asleep. What are you doing in my house?" Black demanded, stepping down fully into the kitchen.
"I fail to see how it's any of your business—"
"Oh, fuck off, Snivellus—don't act as though you have any right to be here." Striding over to him, the mutt looked round suspiciously, teeth bared. "What did you do?"
"Excuse—"
"You know full-well what I mean, you greasy bastard," Black snapped at him, stopping only a few feet away with his wand aimed unwaveringly at Severus's chest. "What is that? In the vials? What have you brought into my house?"
Severus forced himself to remain calm. Taking as subtle a breath as possible, he said lowly, "It's Veritaserum. The Headmaster requested it."
"Oh? Well, should we test it, then?" The mutt reached slowly towards the counter and took hold of one of the vials, shaking it between two pinched fingers. Severus couldn't help but twitch each time Black rolled it over in his hand. If he dropped it… "You know, Snape, you've been causing some issues here lately. First Harry, Merlin fucking knows how badly you've been mistreating him…Then Remus, because whatever you said to him, it's had him in a goddamn slump for days now…And now Arthur. I haven't seen him this stressed since his son disowned the family. I think we should test this potion, here, and find out exactly how effective it is. How many secrets should I have you tell me?"
"I'm leaving," Severus said with a sneer, stepping past him and towards the table—and froze when Black seized his shoulder in a vice-like grip. Lungs stuttering to a halt, Severus blinked rapidly and bit down on the inside of his cheek until blood burst on his tongue, trying to ground himself. He couldn't—have a fit. Not now. Not now. "Let go of me, Black," he breathed, in the most dangerous tone he could muster, even as his legs turned to jelly and his hands went numb. Severus gathered his frayed nerves up and Occluded, raising a fortress of mental defenses to steel his voice and spine. "Now. "
"I don't think so," the mutt murmured back, as cold as the rain outside. "What we're going to do, Snivellus, is sit down and have a nice…long…chat."
"No," said Lupin as he entered the room with a thunderous expression on his face, "what we're going to do is calm down and talk this through like adults. Let go of Severus, Sirius."
The tips of Black's fingers dug sharply into the spaces between his bones, grinding down like he was trying to crush Severus's shoulder in his hand. Then, with a hard shove, he knocked Severus forward into the table and stormed off upstairs. The screaming of the portrait in the foyer started up moments later before it cut off sharply and the house was silent once more.
Severus wanted to collapse and sleep for twelve years, but with Lupin in the room, the most he could bring himself to do was scoop up his wand and sit down heavily at one of the chairs.
"Are you—" the wolf began, but Severus cut him off.
"Do not interfere again, Lupin. I had the situation handled." His voice sounded hard and distant. "Your need to be a part of such things is incredibly draining."
"Don't try to pull one over me, Severus," Lupin sighed, rubbing his knuckles into his temples and leaning forward on his elbows. "You sicked up on me when I just barely touched your neck a few days ago. Handled my arse."
"Either way, the point still stands," he muttered, keeping himself empty and faded. "Don't do that again. I'd much rather you play the part you had while at Hogwarts."
"What," the wolf snapped, "the one where I just stood by and pretended nothing happened, even when they stripped you in front of half the school? I watched them sexually assault you, and—"
"Shut up," Severus hissed, refusing to look at him. "We're done with this topic. It's over."
For a moment, he thought the wolf would continue, until the fight seemed to leave him in wisps, leaving him as empty as Severus himself felt. "We do need to talk," Lupin said eventually, as the fire began to burn low in the hearth and a slight chill began to settle in. "About…what happened."
"We really don't."
"Yes, we do. Was it truly consensual, Severus? Or did you feel the need to go along with what I was asking of you, to keep me in good spirits? Did you fear I would turn on you if you rejected me?"
"What does it matter?" he demanded, keeping his voice low and he stole a glance at the empty stairwell, in case someone was listening in. "It was a mistake. A prank."
"It wasn't a prank, and I don't know what to say in order to get that through to you without…" Lupin stood abruptly, and Severus couldn't quite contain a flinch. "And now you're—Godric and Jesus, I just…It's not because it's me, is it?"
He should have been angry. Instead, he could only bring himself to feel exhausted. "Don't be such a fucking cunt, werewolf."
"Oh, so I'm being a—" The wolf cut himself off and groaned, pressing his palms into his eyes. "Salazar and Mary. This is pointless right now, with you in this state. Have you slept? Eaten anything?"
"I'm leaving," Severus said, getting to his feet with the barest amount of swaying. "Do not interfere with Black and I again, or you shall sorely live to regret it." His robes felt too light around his shoulders; he should have worn his thick winter cloak. Heading for the stairs, he stopped with his foot in midair, and then turned to face Lupin. "I almost forgot…Tell Weasley his services are no longer required. He will not be returning to my house after taking the boy to his hearing. In the meantime, I'm preparing dinner myself tomorrow. Six o'clock. Do not be late. And do not come Polyjuiced, for God's sake. The Richardsons have been giving me strange looks."
He passed Black on his way out, standing in the shadows by the front door with a dark look on his face. Severus spared him half a glance before he opened the door and slammed it as hard as he could, catching the very beginning of Black's mother's tirade before he Apparated back to Spinner's End. Severus allowed himself a brief grin as he scrambled up the slippery bank and made his way back to his house, letting himself inside silently.
The grin faded as he looked over the dark living room and heard Potter's soft, deep breathing from over on the sofa. Toeing his shoes off at the doorway, he pulled the deadbolt across and made his way over to the boy to ensure he wasn't faking sleep.
The boy looked oddly…peaceful. Severus watched him for a beat too long, at his glasses dangling off one ear, the tendril of hair curled over his closed eye, and the blanket pushed down round his knees. Then, reaching out, he plucked the glasses off and placed them on the end table. The blanket he pulled up over Potter's shoulders; he watched the boy grab hold of it and wrap it tightly round himself, like a cocoon. Severus frowned and moved to brush the hair away from his face.
His fingertips had just barely brushed Potter's forehead when he froze, yanking his hand away. What the hell was he even doing? Severus's head spun like he was about to faint. Jerking back, he hurried up the stairs and to his room, curling his hands into fists and clenching his jaw tightly. An idiot. That was what he was. A bloody sentimental fool.
He dragged his clothes off and threw them onto the floor angrily, hissing curses and swears under his breath as he dropped onto his bed with a screech of old springs. A fucking idiot.
Severus dropped off quickly, and descended into oddly vivid yet hazy dreams about a Lupin with his pupils blown dark, and a heat that had him sweating despite the chill of his bedroom.
This, Severus thought, as he woke up sticky and panting, is going to be a problem.