Arista's Advice

The next day, Arista came over for a visit. She's my twenty-one-year-old sister, a Master Healer, married to Drake Lockwood, who's a Dark Hunter like my dad. They've been in love since they were in school together, both of them attended Hogwarts in the same year, right along with Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger. Talk about a class packed with talent. Over half of those wizard kids ended up being famous, especially after the war with Voldemort. Arista was known as the Girl Who Healed, ever since she cured Frank and Alice Longbottom of insanity when she was thirteen.

The Longbottoms had been tortured into insanity with the Cruciatus Curse by the infamous Bellatrix Lestrange, a Death Eater who worshipped the ground Voldemort walked on, the sick bitch. They'd been in St. Mungo's Hospital for over thirteen years, labeled incurably insane, until my sister came to Britain, met their son Neville, and decided to heal them. Everyone swore it couldn't be done, but Arista refused to believe that. Nothing is impossible with magic is her motto and she proved it that day when she went into the Longbottoms' minds and fought their own personal demons to bring them back to themselves. She used a combination of her empathic gift and her Healing talent and now they call her the Girl Who Healed.

Or maybe now they ought to change it to the Mother Who Healed, 'cause Arista's very pregnant and due in another few weeks or something like that. She's ecstatic and so's Drake. I'm happy for them, they'll be great parents, and this kid's gonna be spoiled beyond belief by my dad, being the first grandchild and all. I'm hoping it'll be a boy, so I can do all those uncle-nephew things with him when he gets older. Though a girl would be okay too. Arista says she doesn't care either way, so long as the baby's healthy. Guess that's the right attitude. They haven't decided on a name yet, though I'm betting on Severus Robin if it's a boy or Amelia if it's a girl.

Anyhow, my sister dropped in to say hi, the way she usually does on her day off. As a certified Master Healer, she usually doesn't get much time off from her job, so her visits were a real treat for me and Dad. I didn't even know she was here however, since I was out in the garden gathering valerian and tansy for a Calming Draft. Our garden was a modest one, according to my dad, it grew just enough herbs for one retired Potions Master and his apprentice. Sure, he could say that, especially since he didn't have to weed the blasted thing. It was a half an acre, though you couldn't tell just by looking at it, since Dad had a glamour on it. The glamour was necessary since we lived primarily in a Muggle neighborhood. But I knew just how big it was from having had to weed every inch of it.

Weeding was one of my chores, and though I liked to complain about it, it really wasn't too bad. My grandpa had taught me various charms to keep the worst weeds out and the garden was warded against garden gnomes burrowing into it by him also, so I didn't need to worry about them, thank Merlin! Grandpa Leo's an earth mage and he knows all the tricks when it comes to growing a wonderful garden. Dad and I learned a lot from him, and our garden produces wonderfully.

Our garden is a combination of an herb garden (with both ordinary and magical herbs) and a vegetable garden. Like his Amarotti relatives, Dad insists on using fresh produce in his recipes, and so we grow nearly all our own veggies. Except celery and fancy lettuces and stuff. Those we buy, but we grow tomatoes, carrots and potatoes and lettuce, onions, cucumbers, peppers, and zucchini, stuff like that.

I came inside slightly dusty from picking the herbs, setting them on the counter in the kitchen, to find Arista and Dad sitting at the kitchen table, drinking tea and eating donuts. "Hi, Gav!" Arista smiled, brushing back a stray strand of her auburn hair from her dark eyes. She's the only one of us Snape kids that's Dad's real one, not adopted. And ironically, she looks just like her mom Amelia, the only physical feature of Sev's she's inherited is his dark eyes. But I think Dad prefers it that way, since he loved his wife to pieces. I'm the one who looks remarkably like him, since I've got the same slender build, narrow face, dark hair, and eyes.

"Hi, Arista!" I move over to hug her, which is kind of awkward, since she's so big.

"Dad's got you weeding the garden, I see," she said, ruffling my hair. "Looks like you need a haircut, scamp." That's her pet name for me, and I only allow her and Dad to call me that.

I rolled my eyes. "Now you sound like somebody's mom," I teased, smirking. "I like my hair the way it is."

"I am somebody's mom, little brother," Arista laughed, patting her belly. "And you're looking like a bearded collie."

"You're right, it's getting too long," Dad piped up, and I know that's it. "I'll see to it tonight."

I groaned, for I like my hair a bit long, at least past my ears. "What for? You've got long hair," I objected.

"Yes, but my hair doesn't look like rats have been gnawing at it," Dad remarked, indicating my rather wild locks. "If you'd run a comb or a brush through it every morning then maybe I'd let you grow your hair. But since you can't be bothered, it gets cut to something manageable."

"I brush my hair," I muttered.

"Every other day, sure," Dad quipped knowingly. "Wash your hands and then you can have some tea and donuts."

I obeyed, not wanting to get caught in a debate with him that I won't win. Not after what had happened yesterday. Besides, I don't want to quarrel in front of Arista. So I wash off my hands and go sit next to her, levitating three donuts from the box onto my plate with a gesture.

"You're getting better, Gavin," she said approvingly.

"Three, Gavin?" Dad frowned. He doesn't like me to eat too much sugar, claims it makes me hyper.

"I'm hungry," I said defensively. "Picking all those herbs and weeds is hard work."

Dad snorted. "I know, I'm a regular slavedriver." But he let me eat three donuts anyway.

I poured myself a cup of tea, then turn to my sister and ask my usual question since she got pregnant, "You having that kid anytime soon, Ari? What are you waiting for, Christmas?"

"God, I hope not!" she said, with a chuckle, her eyes sparkling. "If I'm lucky, I'll deliver him or her right on my due date, which is what I'm praying for."

I cocked an eyebrow. "If you're lucky? Can't you just, uh, use magic to make that happen?"

"Yes, but I'd prefer if it happens naturally this first time," she explained. "Tampering too much with your body's natural processes isn't wise, Gavin. Especially with something like this. Sometimes nature is wiser than a Master Healer, and I won't use magic unless I have to."

I nodded in understanding. "Except during the delivery."

"Yes, I can painblock then," she agreed. "One of the great things about being a Master Healer, I can pretty much have an almost pain-free delivery."

"Almost?" Dad queried.

"I have to be able to feel the contractions somewhat, Dad," she clarified. "Otherwise I won't know when I've got to push." She also would bounce back from the delivery faster than a normal woman, because the other Healers would heal her before she went home. That's the one drawback to her great talent, she couldn't heal herself the way she could others, only painblock.

She changed the subject then, knowing we two guys aren't too comfortable discussing labor and delivery, that's for girls. "So, you've finally graduated fifth grade, scamp. Now you can start your formal magical training with Dad."

I nodded eagerly. "He already had me making a burn salve yesterday," I told her.

Once I turned eleven, I'd only need to attend school for a half a day, the rest of the time would be spent with my dad or another master wizard, learning magic, for that was how we wizards did it in the States. Dad was my primary teacher of magic, but if he chose, he could let other master wizards or magicians in my family teach me specific disciplines, such as Herbology or Medicine. In the morning I'd go back to Seaside Integrated and continue learning what every other kid in America does, math, English, history, and science. An American wizard is nothing if not well-rounded. But once I was fifteen, I'd have graduated Muggle school and only study magic. Then, once I'd completed my apprenticeship, I could go back and get a college degree or whatever if I chose, or attend the Dark Hunter Academy. Dad has a Masters Degree in Psychology from some British university, so he can better understand the criminal mind or whatever. Then again, my father is like the educational guru of the world, know what I mean?

I could never be half as brilliant, and I know better than to even try.

"Oh? How'd it go?"

"Okay, I guess," I said, not wanting to admit I'd messed up two times before I'd gotten it right.

"Once he stopped daydreaming and started concentrating, that is," Dad said bluntly. "Before that he practically melted his cauldron."

"It wasn't that bad, Dad!" I cried. "The fire just got a little overexcited." I hastened to explain to my sister what had really happened, lest she think I was as hopeless at potions as Neville Longbottom.

In the middle of my explanation, Dad decided to bring the herbs I'd gathered down to his lab, leaving the two of us alone, which was probably what he'd intended to do all along.

"And then what happened?" she asked, and before I knew it I had totally spilled my guts to her about everything that had happened yesterday.

That was nothing unusual, since Arista's an empath and people tend to naturally tell an empath things they never would anyone else. Plus, she's also my therapist, and I was used to telling her about things that bothered me. When I got to the part about my calling Dad the F-word twice, she just shook her head and said, "Gav, buddy, that really was one of the stupidest things you could have said to him right then."

"Tell me about it," I grumbled. I eyed her curiously. "He tell you what he did to me afterwards?"

She nodded. "Yes, and I hope you realize how rare it is for him to discipline like that, scamp. I think it probably hurt him as much as it did you."

"Oh yeah, right. Why do people always say that when they spank their kids, Arista? How can it be true, it's not like it's their butt getting smacked." I demanded, for it had never made any sense to me.

"You don't understand, Gavin. Let me see if I can explain it to you, though it still probably won't make much sense until you've got a kid of your own and have to punish them. When a parent says that to his child, he doesn't mean that the punishment hurts physically, but it hurts here," she tapped her chest, over her heart. "Emotionally, it hurts when you have to punish your child, because you can empathize and you don't want to hurt them, but you have to, so they learn. Dad told me that it's one of the hardest things about being a parent, and there's gonna be times I'm gonna hate punishing my kid, but I should just go ahead and do it, because kids need rules and consequences and sometimes the consequences hurt. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"Yeah, but if he hates spanking so much, why'd he do it?"

"Because he lost it for a few minutes, Gavin. And for that to happen, little brother, means you were really pushing his buttons. He apologized to you afterwards, right?"

"Yeah, and that's the part I really don't get. I mean I know I deserved it, and it really wasn't all that bad, Arista. It stung like hell, but it ain't nothing compared to what Ferrous gave me. So why does he feel so guilty?"

"You really don't know?" she seemed astonished. "He's never told you, after all those nightmares you've had, why he knows exactly what you went through for all those years?" I shook my head. "Good God! And I guess it never occurred to you to wonder how he knew exactly what to say and do to you to make you feel better, huh?"

"Not really. I thought he knew what to do because he's, uh, you know, my dad."

"No, Gavin. Being a parent doesn't make you all-knowing. Especially not about what you lived through. Any other parent would've sent their kid to counseling, which he did, but our sessions were nowhere near what they should've been, because he could deal with the majority of it himself. Care to guess why?"

And suddenly it hit me. It'd been staring me in the face all this time, but I'd been too blind to see. "Because he . . .it happened to him too when he was a kid," I whispered, my gut clenching in horror.

"Yes," Arista said softly, her eyes glistening with tears. "His father beat him and called him a freak too, just like Ferrous. And that happened for most of his childhood, until his mother finally couldn't take it anymore and she left and took Dad with her when he was ten, right after he got his acceptance letter to Hogwarts. She was a witch, but his dad Tobias wasn't, and he always resented them for having magic."

"Why'd he marry her then?"

"Maybe he loved her once and then became frightened of the fact that she could do magic. I don't know. Neither does Dad. But he grew up poor and abused, same as you, Gavin."

"Not quite. At least he still had a mom," I reminded her. "Did his father beat her up too?"

Again Arista nodded. I wasn't surprised. It was an old story, the cycle of abuse. And suddenly I recalled several nights when I'd woken up screaming from nightmares and found him sitting on the edge of my bed, not touching me, but whispering softly in that soothing voice he had, because he knew that a whisper was all I could tolerate without going to pieces, and if he touched me I'd only shrink away in fear. Only someone who'd been through the hell of being hit over and over would know how I'd react.

It shocked me though, for I wasn't used to thinking of the indomitable Severus Snape as a victim, a lost scared little child the way I'd been. I met Arista's gaze and saw that she understood what I was feeling. "I can't believe . . .I mean he seems so strong, like nothing could ever hurt him . . ."

"I know. It shocked the hell out of me too, Gavin, when he told me one night long ago. But that's why he has such iron control over his emotions, d'you see? His father was an alcoholic too and he told me he swore long ago that he'd never become the man his father was, so he doesn't drink much and he keeps his emotions under tight control, mostly. He knows his temper is his weakness and he fights every day to control it. And that's why he doesn't usually discipline with a spanking, the way some parents would. Because the last thing he wants is to become Tobias Snape, the demon of his childhood."

"He tell you to tell me this?"

"Not in so many words, no. But I think it's something you should know, kid. So you can maybe stop getting on each other's nerves and try being a little more patient. I know he can be a pain in the ass to live with sometimes, but he loves you Gavin, never doubt that. Loves you just as much as he does me, even if you're not his biological son. Trust me on that."

I nodded, though a part of me still doubted her words. For how could he love me as much as the child of his blood? I mean, my own mother hadn't, else why would she have abandoned me as a baby? Still, I wasn't minded to argue with Arista over that statement. "He ever wallop your butt like that?"

"No. But then, I never was dumb enough to call him an effing bastard to his face, kid," Arista said. "I knew exactly how far I could go with him before he lost it, and though I drove him nuts, I never pushed him to the point where he smacked me. And I had almost as smart as mouth as you do, scamp."

"How about Trish?"

"Trish was an angel compared to us," Arista laughed. "She's never been one for open disobedience, and Dad could make her toe the line just by looking at her, most times. For her, his scoldings were as bad as getting smacked, believe me."

"Me too," I admitted. "So, are you gonna follow his example with your kids then?"

"Probably. It works pretty good, right? You've learned your lesson about swearing at him, I'd think."

"God, yes! Next time I'll just bite my tongue," I said fervently and I meant it.

"Good, because you and I both know that a wizard who can't control himself-"

"-is a danger to everyone around him," I finished the familiar saying. "That's why Dad's sending me to Fireflash for a month. So he can help me learn how to control my magic and my temper. I really don't want to be a danger to people, Arista. Not my family anyhow. But I won't mind if some dark wizards were scared of me."

"Plan on becoming a Dark Hunter then, little brother?"

I hadn't really thought about it, but right then it seemed like a good idea. "Yeah. It's practically a family tradition," I pointed out. "Your mom, Dad, Drake and Flick. Colin and Jenna too." Those last were Dad's best friends, but were actually more like siblings to him and an aunt and uncle to us. Flick was Trish's husband.

"You'll be a good one, kid," she said then. "Of that I haven't the slightest doubt."

Her words made me feel all warm and cozy inside, for I respected her opinion, she was practically the closest thing I had to a mother. I vowed then and there that I'd be the best Hunter ever, so she would be proud of me and so would Dad. I wanted so much to be better than a no account street brat, useless, the way Ferrous had said I was.

"Once I learn to think before I act, that is," I admitted, for that was one of my greatest failings. It was also the one Dad was forever scolding me about.

"You will, kid. Give yourself a few years," Arista said sagely. "If Harry Potter could learn to look before he leaped, you certainly can, Gav."

"I pray for that miracle every day, Arista," said Dad, returning from his lab at last. "Someday my prayers will be answered, right, scamp?"

"Someday, yeah, Dad, I promise," I said, and smiled up at him. "When you're old and feeble and toothless," I added, smirking.

"When I'm what?" he mock-growled. Then he gave me a gentle swat on the bottom, for I'd been reaching over to get another donut when I'd said that and he had come up the stairs behind me. "That might happen sooner than you think, boy, if you don't mind your manners."

"I'll try, sir," I said.

"Please do. Because I doubt you want a drooling old wizard for a mentor," he added and smirked at me. Then he put an arm about me and hugged me. "Gavin, what am I going to do with you?"

"Love him, Dad," answered Arista. "Just the way you did with me and Trish."

"An excellent idea, Arista," Dad agreed. Then he smiled down at me. "She gives good advice, son. Might I suggest you follow it as well?"

"Sure."

Now it was Arista's turn to blush a bit. "Well, I learned from the best. Now what's for lunch? Because I am starving, all of a sudden."

We had been going to make tacos for lunch today, so I glanced sidelong at my father and said, "Uh oh, Dad. We'd better triple the taco recipe, since Arista's eating for two now."

"What's that supposed to mean?" she demanded, scowling at me. "Are you saying I'm fat, kid?"

"Umm . . .you said it, not me!" I laughed.

"Why you little brat!" she growled, pretending to be furious with me. "I ought to swat you a good one, Gavin Albus Snape."

"No, please! I don't want to be responsible for destroying the kitchen," I said, smirking.

"Destroying the kitchen?" she repeated.

"Yeah, from all the things you knock over trying to catch me," I explained.

"Gavin, you little . . .!" my sister began, rising from her chair and starting to come around the table.

I pretended to cower away in fear. "Help, Dad! Don't let the Big Bad Mommy Rhino hurt me!" I ran to hide behind my father.

"Now I'm a rhino?" came Arista's outraged cry. "Oh, you're really asking for it, kid!"

"I agree," said Dad, then he reached behind him and dragged me out, the traitor.

I pretended to struggle, but I was laughing too hard.

"Here, Arista. Teach him a good lesson."

"Oh, I will," said she, and then she hugged me.

"Ahhh! A fate worse than death!" I cried.

"Next time, behave!" she ordered, and let me go.

I was still smirking as I turned to get the ground beef from the fridge.

That was when she swatted me with the dishtowel.

I yelped and glared at her. "No fair!"

She laughed. "Never tease a Snape, Gav. We always get even."

I stuck my tongue out at her, then went to help my father make lunch. I would take Arista's advice to heart, for my sister was almost never wrong. Like father, like daughter.

* * * * * *

Later on that night, I was lying on the couch, drowsing after studying my Defense text, Dad was sitting next to me, reading over some briefs from work. He always had a mountain of paperwork as Director, one of the drawbacks of a civilized society, he said once, and he usually brought some of it home to go over. When he'd wrapped up a case, he sometimes shared the details with me, such as the alias the perp used, what he'd done, and the sentence handed down. Usually that was a life sentence in Inferno, the wizard prison, but occasionally not, depending on the crime the wizard was in for. Thieves and frauds never got life, but they did get a lengthy sentence and were required to do reparation work for those they'd stolen from. Premeditated murderers, rapists, and those who practiced ritual sorcery and dark magic ALWAYS got life, unless the Hunter sent to bring them in killed them first. Hunters were allowed the use of deadly force if their suspect resisted arrest, and most of the really bad criminals opted to go down fighting rather than be hauled into a court and left to rot in the bowels of Inferno.

Inferno was located underground somewhere in the wilds of upstate New York, though the only person who knew the true location was the Director and the President of the AMA. Not even the Hunters knew where it really was, they all had limited Memory Charms put upon them after they'd brought a prisoner there. This was so no criminal could try and get the location out of a Hunter. It was also why the Director was among the most hated enemy of any necromancer. Not that this seemed to bother my dad any, or so it always seemed. Then again, maybe he just hid it well. He was extremely good at his job, the ratio for capturing dark wizards had gone up thirty percent since he'd become Director over four years ago. For that alone, his name was practically a household legend, like our dog Scout's.

That was why Arista's revelation had surprised me so much, for it had never occurred to me to wonder about his childhood before this. I'd assumed he'd had a pretty normal one, given who and what he was. Now though . . .I looked at him with new eyes and it made me respect him even more, if possible. For he was a living example that you could walk out of the nightmare whole and become something better.

I yawned and snuggled deeper into the blanket I'd wrapped about me, my head resting on his knee. He absently ran his hand through my hair, which had been newly trimmed, much to my disgust. Though even I had to admit it looked better now. "Tired, son?"

"A little," I murmured. "Dad?"

"Yes?"

"Did you ever get in trouble for being a smartass when you were a kid?"

He was silent for a moment. I thought maybe it was because he was mad at me for asking something so personal, but then I saw him smirking. "Yes, scamp. I was not a perfect child by any means. If your grandmother Eileen were alive, I'm certain she could tell you plenty of stories about how I misbehaved."

"What did she do to you?"

"About the same as I do to you now. I use her methods of discipline mostly. I find them much more effective than my father's."

I quirked an eyebrow up, and he answered my unspoken question. "My father's preferred method was a belt or a stick."

I shivered involuntarily and he patted my shoulder. "There now, you know I'd never use any of that on you, son. I find a lecture and grounding works as well as a strap."

"Uh-huh," I muttered, and was profoundly grateful for that understanding. But I couldn't resist adding, "So does that mean you'll never spank me again?"

"If you can promise you'll never swear at me or address me so disrespectfully again, then yes. Or steal anything. But do any of those things again, Mr. Snape, and you'll end up with a sore bottom. As my mother was fond of saying, an ounce of pain now is worth a pound of regret later."

I gaped at him. "Then your mom . . .?"

"Yes, Gavin. I had a smart mouth too when I was your age and like you I got spanked for it a time or two. Eventually I learned better, as I hope you will."

"Like father, like son," I remarked and he chuckled.

"Just so, scamp. You couldn't be any more like me then if you'd been born to me, Gavin."

"Really?"

"Really. Because it isn't blood alone that makes a family, child. It helps, but it isn't strictly necessary."

"It's not?"

"No. It's not what's on the outside that counts, but what's in here," And he tapped his heart emphatically. "Love makes a family, Gavin. That's what makes me your father and you my son. Love. Love is the strongest force in the universe. Beyond blood and magic. And if you don't believe me than look in the Bible, for was that not the message Jesus preached to the world, Love ye one another?"

"It sure was," I said, smiling. When he put it that way, who was I to argue?

He resumed reading, his hand still stroking my hair, an action that I found very soothing and soon my eyes closed and I fell asleep, secure in the knowledge that I was loved and safe, and always would be so long as Severus was there to watch over me.

So, how did you like that little family scene? Yes, Severus does become a grandpa in this story!

Next: Gavin stays and trains with Fireflash and other bronze dragons for a month.