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Severus' head was crying.
His thoughts stuttered to a stop, knowing that there was something inherently wrong with that statement. A head couldn't possibly cry, therefore, someone must be crying over his head or near it.
"You stupid, reckless git! How could you do that? How could you?" the voice sobbed, tears falling onto his face. They tasted salty as they slid into his slightly opened mouth, barely dampening his dry tongue.
"Harry, he didn't have a choice," Remus soothed him. Or tried to, in all reality, he wasn't entirely sure that what Severus did was the only option available to him.
"Sacrifice his life?" Harry hysterically laughed. "After all of his words that he had no intention of doing so?"
"No. I sacrificed my magic," croaked Severus, finally finding the strength to crack an eye open to glance at him. "The only way to stop his Avada Kedavra curse cold and rebound it back upon him was to use all that I had."
"You nearly died," Harry cried.
"But I did not," he closed his eye again, breathing deeply. "I did not. A power greater than any hate he held for us was over me-your love and belief in me."
"But why did you do it? Your magic is everything to you," he protested, "It's all you've ever known."
"I feared James Potter's reaction if I were to fail and you paid the price," he weakly joked. An almost harsh smack startled him and his eyes flew open, seeing the stricken look in Harry's eyes at his flippancy. "Harry, you mean more to me than magic."
It was the closest thing to an I love you that Harry would ever receive.
Remus felt it best to leave them alone. Aimlessly walking, he saw Buffy tending to her own wounds mechanically. A sudden realization hit him-Kendra had died. Lucius had killed her while she had defended Draco from his wrath. He knew that the blond wizard lay a few feet away from the fallen Slayer, face frozen into a look of manic fury.
Sirius had killed the wizard without a thought or doubt. His only word to Severus had been protection-he would protect his nephew and godson from killing their first person for as long as he could. He, like the rest of them, knew that once you killed a man, it changes you. It leaves a mark upon you that doesn't go away. Even though it would have been in self-defense, once you kill, it haunts you.
He walked on, knowing that Giles was the one person she needed to see, to hear. The only one from whom she would accept comfort. No one else's words would penetrate the haze that clouded her mind. He was truly grateful that Ms. Chase had convinced Mrs. Summers to leave, even though she'd wanted to stay close to her daughter.
He noticed Ron and Hermione sleeping, an exhausted Amy between them, both girls' arms were tightly bound to their waists. And yet, despite their injuries, both women had been invaluable on the field, especially where the twins had been concerned. The twins, his mind faltered as he remembered the terrible blast Bellatrix had sent at them.
The both of them had flown back against the school, the crunching sounds of their bones upon impact echoing into the night like a shot. If not for Charlie's quick killing curse, she might've finished them off. As it was, they had been sent straight to St. Mungo's, Poppy's skills were of little use to them.
Willow and Oz were softly talking, watching Xander out of the corner of their eyes. Remus noticed that she was fingering the amulet restlessly and suppressed a sigh, wondering how long it would be before she ripped it off. That thing had prevented Voldemort from victory but he could tell that she was irritated with it.
Then his eyes fell upon the resting teen, guilt filling him. If not for his slip in concentration while fighting that ghoul, the young man would not be lying there. As it was, his life force had been leeched considerably before Remus had been able to defeat and disperse it. For the first time, he cursed the shields that prevented them from sending him to Hogwarts.
Turning away, he walked outside, ignoring the dead that littered the ground. The sounds of sobbing caught his ear and he turned towards it, seeing Minerva huddled up around herself, over Albus' body. An irreverent thought came to mind, Albus would never know the truth about Severus and Lily's familial relationship now. Before he could go over to offer his comfort, she straightened up, "He's all yours, Fawkes," he heard her softly say.
Watching the phoenix intently, he missed it when he was joined by Sirius. "I'm sorry for everything," the man finally said once the ashes had been scattered by the wind and Minerva who disappeared once it was over. "It's just that I never thought it would come out. So, what good would it do to say anything?"
Slowly, he looked at his friend, startled, "What…oh," realization dawned in his eyes. "Well, I guess I understand why you didn't tell us about Lily and Severus. It wasn't your secret to share-but your doubts about me and my loyalty hurts. You couldn't even tell me to my face what you believed about me and that hurts," he said, looking back at the spot Albus had been.
"My greatest regret were you are concerned is that I never asked for your forgiveness after I escaped. Yes, I did apologize before but it wasn't a real apology. I never explained anything to you. I just believed that you would be there for me as you've always been, even when I did not support you or help you as a real friend should have. I should have told you the truth but I did not. And there's no point in asking what if, I was a fool."
"But why didn't you tell me?" Remus asked, pleading with him. "You knew me and what kind of person I was."
"And Peter played on that," Sirius quietly answered him. "He pointed out that you never had the strength to stop me and James from teasing Severus even though you disapproved deeply. You were made a prefect to try to minimize the damage we did-but you never could get up the courage to call us out about our behavior. You scolded, but never really acted upon your threats. He also reminded me that you were as close to James as I was. If they disappeared, they would go after us-and we wouldn't be able to resist Voldemort's imperios and tortures. He pointed out that everyone knew he was weak, they would not suspect him of keeping such a secret."
"Peter was in deep, wasn't he?" Remus asked, almost bitterly. "He had to have been planning this for years. What caused him to fall and us to hold true? What made him yield?"
"I wish I knew. May be the answer isn't one thing but several small slights done to him over the years. Or may be he was just the jealous type," Sirius said. "We don't know what his home life was like, we never really cared about him that much to ask. I think that was our mistake with Severus. We saw what we wanted to see, not what was really there. I'm not saying that we created all of his problems, we didn't make him a Death Eater. But we didn't leave him with many options either. What?"
Remus' head shook, "Who are you and what have you done to the real Sirius Black?"
"I grew up," he shrugged, "And stopped seeing the stereotypes that have perpetuated our world for so long. But, Remus, it is so hard. I feel like that I've had to grow up faster than I was prepared for. And then, I think about Harry and feel so guilty about wanting to rewind time. How does he do it?"
"He's got the moral courage of his mother," Remus replied.
"Yeah, he does at that," Sirius laughed loudly and freely for the first time in a very long time, his arm slung across Remus' shoulder comfortingly. It felt good and, for the first time, he truly felt free of the shadow of the past. "Out of all of us, she was the most Gryffindor. And can you just hear Severus now, telling us not to insult her? That bravery and courage is not limited to Gryffindor alone?"
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"What do you think will happen now?" Willow asked, resting her head on Oz's shoulder.
"We survive," Oz replied.
"As ever, you are the soul of comfort to me," she teased. Her gaze fell on Xander's pale face and noted his raspy breathing. "Do you think he'll be all right? He's my brother, I don't know what I'd do without him."
A pop sounded and a matronly woman with gray hair pulled back into a bun appeared just off to the right. Her eyes fell upon Xander and she gasped, snapping angrily at them when she saw them just sitting there. "Are you barbarians that you would prolong his suffering like this? You, get me some warm water and some medicine. You, help me lay him out on one of these tables. I need him higher if I'm to work. This isn't ideal but it will have to do. Lumos!"
Their corner of the room was brightly illuminated. Oz helped her move Xander while Willow scurried off to get the desired items. Charlie looked up as she passed in a whirlwind of energy, instantly alert. But the alarm hadn't gone off, "Where's the emergency?" he asked, just in case he had missed it.
"Funny lady, warm water, medicine for Xander," she babbled as she went racing by. There was barely a pause in her moves, "Helping her because she's helping him."
"Right," Charlie slowly said, deciding to follow after the girl, wondering if she ever bothered to breath. At the rate she was going, she'd most likely do herself an injury and feel extremely guilty about it. Besides, being around another redhead (even one as strange as that one) would be a comfort now that Bill had gone to look after their mum.
Weird she may have been but at least she was alive.
Boy, was she alive, he ruefully thought, watching as she bounced around the lab, heating water using the stove. "Pardon me for asking," he winced at her shriek of fright and the pans that suddenly clattered to the floor, water going every where. "Sorry, but wouldn't it be easier to use a heating spell?"
"A what?" she asked, pulling out a mop to soak up the spill.
"Never mind," he shrugged. "Why don't I take the pans of water to the funny lady while you clean this up. Does she have a name?"
"She didn't say, but I think she's a healer of some kind," Willow answered, wringing out the mop in the sink.
"Madame Pomfrey," he said with a smile, levitating the pans easily. "I'll be back soon."
"I'll still be here," she replied, slapping the floor with the mop again. Water sprayed up and into her face, she blinked it away, shaking her head. The mop soaked up the water and she once more had to squeeze it out. One hand reflexively fingered her dragon amulet, flushing as she jerked her hand away before she could undo the clasp.
Professor Snape's stinging admonition rang in her ears. 'That amulet is for your protection as much as it is for our own. I don't care if it itches or you find it difficult to breath, you will leave it on.'
There was definitely an unspoken threat to his words. One she daren't try to finish. She was pretty sure that her imagination was far more grisly than anything Snape could come up with-and that he was counting on that.
The mop sloppily hit the ground again. Itches didn't quite cover what it did to her. Fire ants would have been far more merciful compared to what she was going through at that precise moment and she deeply resented its existence even if she understood why she had to wear it.
"My dear, I know there's some pain but until you have more control and we can be assured that Voldemort is really gone, you are a danger," Professor Flitwick tried to comfort her.
"Then why doesn't Professor Snape wear one? He's as powerful as me," she bitterly retorted.
"Oh, but my dear, he had to wear one for years until James saved him, thus establishing a bond between them in the form of a wizard's debt. That debt made wearing the amulet useless. I do not advocate having a wizard life debt placed upon you in exchange for freedom from the amulet. In many ways, the life debt is far worse than wearing a simple amulet. Your pains are caused by the fact that you are fighting against it. Once you have accepted its place, you will get better," he promised. "Is there anything I can help you with?"
Her answer, when it came, was absent sounding. She'd never thought of that and she felt guilt fill her for her resentment of wearing such a nice piece of jewelry. Professor Snape wore a bond that could not be removed-the wizarding debt itself decided when it was finished, not the wizards involved. They had no control. "No, though you could ask Ron's brother-the one with the half and half colored hair."
"Ah, you mean Charlie," he informed her cheerfully, glad that she was thinking about his words. It certainly made dealing with her easier when she was in a pleasant state of mind as opposed to this depressed, almost viciously angry one.
"Someone call?" he asked, nodding to the professor. "Willow, that funny lady has asked for some thick cotton bandages and some medicine to dull the pain your friend is feeling. She says he looks far worse than he is."
"Ok, you can stop making fun of me. What's her name again?"
"Madame Poppy Pomfrey," he replied, smiling widely. "And why should I stop? That's such an interesting shade for your face."
"You are so mean to me," she groaned, half tempted to hurl the mop at him. "I don't think we have cotton bandages. Synder would find them dreadfully expensive but we do have cotton sheets. Do you think they'll work?" She started off, mop in hand.
"Are you planning to clean as we go?"
"What?" she asked, following his gaze to the mop. This time, she didn't resist and whacked him with it before tossing it into the sink.
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Summer vacation finally came and, for the first time in memory, Harry was anxious to get home to the Dursley's. Severus had said there would be a surprise waiting for him. Stepping off of the train, he looked around and saw his despicable relatives waiting off to the side, a disdainful look on their faces. Quickly hiding a grin, he walked towards them, dragging his stuff along with him.
"About time you showed up," Uncle Vernon snarled at him. "Get in." There was an underlying threat and taunt in the voice that set Harry's back up.
"Now, that is no way to talk to the young man who is responsible for the continuation of your admittedly pathetically miserable excuse for a life," a voice smoothly poured into the large area, making it seem infinitely smaller than before. Harry jumped, knowing that voice. It was one he had not heard in a while and he shivered, glad he wasn't on the receiving end. He turned and looked at him, wondering what he was doing there.
"How dare you talk to me like that, you…" Vernon's voice trailed off as he turned and took in the sight of the tall, angular, and darkly clothed man. The man he was looking at frightened him far more than the giant ever did, though he could not say for sure why. Although, he suspected the look in his eyes that promised death might be a part of it. "You have no right to interfere in this family matter."
"Oh, I wouldn't say that," he silkily began, eyes narrowed. He did not like the look of this man in front of him. His family was not much better-especially the boy called Dudley. They may have feared Harry, but that was no excuse for their behavior.
"Are you one of his professors?" he scoffed on the title, sheer bluster carrying him past his fright. "You have no legal right to get involved in a discussion between family members."
"He might not-yet," a voice ominously said from above, "But I believe that I do."
Their eyes went skywards and an angelic faced redhead floated down, green eyes snapping with fire. Her finger pointed at Petunia's thin face, accusingly, "How dare you treat my son in such a dreadful manner? Your own flesh and blood, treated worse than a mongrel on the street because of your jealousy and fear. I've a good mind to curse you to the bowels of Hell for your neglect and hate-but what would you learn from that experience? Where is the profit in such outright punishment?"
She let the questions hand in the air for a moment, staring at them contemplatively. "Nice to know you can still think for in your silence you reveal the answer. No, I think a more fitting punishment is to become servants to the one you did your best to enslave. And the sad thing is, all Harry ever asked from you was your love.
"Severus, my brother, if you would do the honors," she invited, finally landing on the ground.
Petunia's eyes widened-but not at the brother reference, "You aren't my sister," she pushed the words through a throat that was suddenly constricted, "Your face is wrong. Your voice and that accent it's…it is American!"
Willow laughed, "To bad you didn't figure that out before you were punished. We might've been able to negotiate something then. Oh, well, I'm sure you'll learn quickly enough."
Harry stared at the house elves that had been his relatives. "Do you think that was wise. I mean, it seems cruel."
"Harry, they will be restored to their natural, nasty selves at summer's end-but I hope they will be wiser for the experience," he said, opening the car door. "Now, let's go home. Giles and the rest should be waiting there for us." He said the words as though he'd swallowed something nasty and Willow laughed, knowing that he really liked having them there.
He'd just be stubborn and never admit it, that's all.
"Will they have someone to help them out?"
"Yes, I have asked for Dobby to help guide them through their new lives, as well as many other Hogwarts' elves," Severus rolled his eyes, then explained. "Harry, I would not leave them to flounder uselessly about, though I do believe that they more than deserve it after what they did to you. But I, unlike some around here, actually think and plan my moves."
Harry ignored the remark, mind at ease concerning his family. He got into the car, "Do you know how to drive?" he asked, fastening his seat belt.
"No," Severus baldly said. "But my magic does-and I can use it."
The End.
Author's Note: This epic one shot is finally finished. After, what, almost three years, my story is completed. Unfortunately, there are some gaps in the tale that sounded like they would play a part and then fizzled out when I really got to the heart of the tale-which is really the story of Severus Snape and his nephew, Harry Potter.
If ever I decide to pick up the Buffy/Harry muse again, this is the story I will start off with. I will flesh out the details-though I will continue to ignore the story for it stopped being cannon about the time of GoF. It especially doesn't fit in with OotP, HBP, and DH. There are hints of those tales, there are places where pieces of those stories come into play, but on the whole, they are not a part of the story. I am thankful to JK Rowling for granting us a view of her world and allowing us in.
But as it stands, the muse has departed for the land of Lord of the Rings and I must follow where she leads for she is my Mistress and I am her willing, devoted follower. I thank everyone for their support, patience, and constant hoping that I will find it in me to finish this tale. I hope that it lives up to expectations. Blessed readings and journeys into the realms beyond what our physical eyes see, one grateful author.