Chapter Six
Remus stood on the cracked sidewalk and stared up at Severus' family home. It wasn't much to look at. The place was even more depressing than the last hovel he'd called his own, which was saying something. The huge chimney of the nearby abandoned mill towered over the house like a watchful sentry, but Remus didn't think it would do more than cast a weary eye his way if he tried to go inside. The house was plainly deserted and looked as if it always had been. No doubt the long-suffering sentry found little left worth protecting.
Stepping up to the front door, he tried to glance in through the front windows but the dull, sagging curtains completely blocked his view, so he reached out and tried the doorknob. Considering the air of abandonment the house exuded, there was a part of him that almost expected to find it open and unlocked, but it wasn't. The lock yielded easily to a simple Alohomora, though.
The total lack of any kind of protective wards on the house was a surprise. Even empty as it was, this house belonged to Severus, and he wasn't one to leave things that belonged to him open for anyone to do what they wished with them. This thought gave Remus a moment's pause. If the house was easy to enter, it was either because Severus wanted it to be or because he didn't feel there was anything there worth elaborate protections. Remus sincerely hoped it was the former and, opening the door, stepped inside.
The front door opened directly into a dreary looking sitting room filled with floor to ceiling bookcases containing a huge number of dark, dust-laden volumes. In fact, everything in the room, from the threadbare furniture to the lamp hanging from the ceiling was thickly covered in a smothering layer of dust.
The breath of air that came inside with Remus stirred up the dust's feathery surface and caused him to sneeze violently several times as he closed the door behind him. Trying not to breathe too deeply, he lit his wand so he could see his way around in the dimness and made a relatively quick circuit of the few rooms on the ground floor.
As he found himself back in the sitting room again, Remus frowned. He'd intended to begin his search on the upper floor, reasoning that most papers and personal items would likely be stored there, but he'd poked into every room on the ground floor without finding a staircase that would take him either up or down.
He stood for a moment in the middle of the sitting room and considered the lack of an obvious staircase thoughtfully, then, pointing his wand at the first section of bookshelves, he cast a standard opening spell.
When nothing happened, he repeated this action with every section until one of them sprang open, revealing a narrow flight of stairs that led down into darkness. Pleased to be on the right track, he continued to toss spells at bookcases until another hidden door was revealed, this time hiding a staircase that led up.
Remus smiled and relit his wand. Trust Severus to be more mysterious and secretive than he needed to be, he thought affectionately as he set his foot on the first step and began to climb.
The upstairs of the small house felt cramped, the ceilings low. There were two bedrooms, one a bit larger than the other and a rather dismal looking bathroom between them. The smaller bedroom contained a cot with rumpled sheets and a threadbare blanket, a spindly-legged desk and an assortment of ancient looking sealed boxes. Remus wrinkled his nose in disgust. It also smelled faintly of rodent droppings.
The larger bedroom held a bed that was neatly made up. A wardrobe, a bookcase with glass panels on the front to keep out the dust, a large desk with a comfortable chair, and a chest at the foot of the bed completed the room's furnishings. As soon as Remus stepped into the room, he was sure that this was where Severus stayed when he was in residence. The smaller room might well have been his childhood bedroom, but there seemed no doubt that once he inherited the house from his parents, he took over their larger room and made it his own.
Remus crossed to the room's front window and pushed the curtains open to let in more daylight. A few dust motes floated lazily in the weak sunbeams that filtered through the dirty glass, but somehow this room seemed a bit less dust laden than the others did. As if someone had been here not all that long ago.
Hoping this wouldn't be another dead end, Remus started to search. He began with the desk, but found it empty of anything other than a couple of old quills and a half dried bottle of black ink. Next he turned his attention to the wardrobe. There he found two worn black robes and a single white shirt with a tattered collar, castoffs that Severus simply never got around to discarding most likely.
After a brief look beneath the bed, which revealed nothing but more clumps of dust, Remus knelt at its foot to examine the wooden chest that stood there. A quick scan with his wand revealed that the chest, unlike anything else he'd come across, was both locked and carefully warded which was much more what he'd expect of Severus. It was likely to make things harder, though. Deciding to start at the beginning, he tried a simple unlocking spell. Unsurprisingly, the chest refused to yield to such elementary measures.
Turning his attention to the warding, he scanned the chest thoroughly. Though he knew more than a fair number of useful protective wards, it was quickly apparent that whatever spell Severus had used here wasn't one that was familiar to him. For the next few minutes, he determinedly threw every ward-breaking spell he could think of at the chest to no effect.
Finally, Remus sat back and carefully considered his options. Apparently a frontal assault wasn't going to work. He snorted to himself. This chest belonged to Severus, when had the direct approach ever worked with the man? He always preferred things to be subtle, difficult and often so convoluted that your head hurt just thinking about them.
As he pondered his next move, Remus felt a sudden urge to touch the chest and, when he examined the feeling, it became clear that the urge was not his own. The feeling was subtle, but strong, and it definitely came from some external source. Something was encouraging him to put his hand on the chest itself. A spell that reached out to lure a victim in was unusual but not unheard of. He knew it was probably foolish to give in to the impulse and actually touch the chest, but at the moment, he wasn't sure what else to try, so he decided to see what would happen if he got a bit closer.
When he moved his hand to within an inch or so of the lock, he could feel a magical warmth buzzing gently against his palm. The warmth had a very welcoming feel to it. Almost as if the chest was waiting specifically for him. Taking a deep breath, he decided to take a chance and placed his hand on the lock itself. To his surprise, he immediately heard a loud click as the lock opened and the warm touch against his palm gave a gentle surge, almost like a caress, before slowly fading away.
Had the lock been keyed specifically to his touch or would any living hand have opened it? He considered the possibilities and slowly shook his head. If you were going to let anyone unlock something with a touch, there was no logic to locking it in the first place. The chest must have been keyed to him in particular. It was the only thing that made sense. Remus felt a surge of hope at that thought and quickly pushed open the lid.
The chest was large enough to hold several thick blankets and quilts, which was probably its original purpose, but currently it contained only two relatively small boxes. Removing both boxes, Lupin took them over to the desk, where the light was better, and began to examine them.
The first box held family photographs. Most of the people in the pictures exhibited a tendency toward large noses, with and without a hook, dark hair and eyes, and rather solemn expressions. Several of the pictures appeared to be Severus himself as a very young child and then as the boy Remus remembered so well.
Looking down into Severus' guarded dark eyes in a picture that had to be from his first or second year at Hogwarts, Remus was struck forcefully by the passage of time. Severus looked so young. Although so much of that time was vividly etched in Remus' memory, he seldom gave any thought to how much time had actually passed since those days. It really was a very long time ago now. Tentatively he reached out to caress a pale cheek and the boy in the picture grimaced and sidled out of the frame, not wanting to be touched.
As Remus continued to look through the pictures, he noticed that most of them had inscriptions on the back, all written by the same unfamiliar hand in block capitals with faded black ink. It wasn't particularly odd to have writing on the back of a picture, of course. Some people labeled their photographs and others never bothered, but if they did label them, they usually kept to the same pattern. Yet, as he flipped through the box, he noticed that one picture, and only one, had an inscription that stood out from the rest, written in red ink. He picked up the labeled picture. It was a rather old photograph, possibly done in a studio, of a formally dressed couple of middle years.
Turning the picture over, he read the inscription on the back. Marcus and Imogene Prince was printed boldly in faded black ink. Below this identification, a few words were scrawled in red. A Prince is always a Prince, no matter the raiment. The latter message was definitely written by Severus. Remus recognized his writing immediately and the ink looked fresh and unfaded. The message it was meant to convey wasn't quite so obvious, however. Setting this photograph aside with a thoughtful frown, he spread out the rest of the pictures and looked at them more carefully.
They seemed pretty evenly divided between photographs that moved and those that didn't. At first, he wondered why Severus would have any family photographs that didn't move, but then a possibility dawned on him. Severus never talked about his family. Remus had always assumed that since Severus was a Slytherin, and almost everyone in that House was a pure-blood, that Severus was one as well. But what if he wasn't? What if, like Remus himself, Severus was a half-blood with one side of his family magical and the other side not?
Remus quickly divided up the pictures, moving and still, and read the inscriptions. None of the photographs labeled with the name of Snape, with the exception of those Severus himself was in, had anyone in them who moved, while all of the images of people named Prince moved about freely. That would certainly make it seem as if his father's family, the Snapes, were Muggles while his mother's family, the Princes, were wizards. Which definitely made Severus a half-blood. Interesting to know, but he wasn't sure how that knowledge helped him very much. Not sure that he was getting anywhere, Remus repacked the pictures, leaving out only the one with the odd inscription in red, and turned to the second box.
This box turned out to be full of postcards. There didn't seem to be any theme to the cards, they came from all over Britain and beyond. A lot of them seemed quite old. Some had messages on them as well as the marks of some sort of posting, others didn't, but none of them seemed to have any particular significance. Remus was about to replace them all and shove them back in the chest when, at the back of the pack, the movement of one of the postcards caught his eye.
As he pulled out this particular postcard, he realized suddenly that it was the only wizarding postcard in the entire box. The front of the card showed a lovely beach scene, with trees swaying in a gentle breeze and waves lapping at a sandy shore. In the distance, a quaint village of colorful houses wound its way up a hillside. Flipping the card over, Remus noticed that it had writing on the back, but the writing wasn't a message addressed to anyone in particular, instead it was a quotation.
"It is sometimes expedient to forget who we are." Maxim 233 by Publilius Syrus was written in red ink again in Severus' distinctive hand. Now definitely convinced he was on the right track, Remus smiled in mounting excitement. Retrieving the photograph of Marcus and Imogene Prince, he laid it next to the postcard and carefully examined both messages.
The ink and handwriting were the same. Both were definitely written by Severus and probably at the same time. Other than when he was correcting a student's work, he'd never known Severus to use red ink. These were obviously written to stand out, but what did they mean?
The message on the postcard seemed clear. Severus was going into hiding, leaving who he was behind. Could the postcard itself tell where he went? The picture on the postcard was simply labeled: Mosaica. He'd never heard of it, but it certainly appeared to be a real place. A spot of research was clearly in order.
Remus picked up the photograph again. "A Prince is always a Prince…" he murmured thoughtfully. Then a slow smile crossed his face. Of course! If he's forgotten Severus Snape, left him behind, he'd need another name to be known by. If his mother's name was Prince then Severus was a Prince as well. It all fit. Now he just needed to discover where in the world to find Mosaica.
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Severus settled into a quiet corner of the neighborhood pub and took a deep drink from his glass. With a sigh, he set the glass down on the table in front of him, admiring the deep tawny color of the liquid within. A color he always associated with Remus Lupin. Just one more thing to remind him of the man. How did Remus end up being his true love anyway? Why wasn't it Lily Evans?
For years, he'd been sure it was. No one had meant more to him than Lily did. He'd loved her ever since they were children together, practically since the first moment he saw her. Certainly, since the first moment she'd stuck up for him to her snotty sister, a sour old bat even as a child. He'd given up his whole life for Lily. Put himself in jeopardy worse than any other to atone for his mistakes, avenge her death and protect her only child. So why wasn't the love he'd felt for her the true love of his life?
That love had been deep and its hold on him had never slackened, but he realized now that it might have, if not for James Potter. Without Potter's effect on their lives, his love for Lily would probably have eventually faded into a deep and enduring friendship, the sort of friendship that fills your life with richness and adds color and warmth to the hours of your days. Love, indeed, but not romantic love.
Potter changed all that. Jealousy and competition twisted his feelings to such a degree that not even he realized until far too late that what he felt for Lily had become secondary to his need to get the better of James. He wanted Lily all the more because James wanted her, too. Eventually it was James' behavior that motivated his love, his desire and his obsession with Lily. And obsession it undoubtedly became, warped unrecognizably from the pure, loving friendship it had once been.
Lily Evans was the first person in his life to truly be a friend to him. She'd cared about him and accepted him as he was, flaws and all; something no one had ever done before. That sort of caring was something he never expected to find again, but he had…in Remus Lupin, though it took him a long time to understand that.
Despite a very sharp and immediate physical attraction to Remus, he'd actively resisted forming any sort of real relationship with him for a long time. After all, Remus was everything he was supposed to despise. He was a Gryffindor for starters, that immediately put him in the camp of the enemy, and to make matters even worse, he was a friend of Potter and Black, two of the most objectionable cretins ever to walk the earth. On the face of it, he never should have given Remus Lupin a second glance, but against his better judgment, he did.
No matter how the two of them were pushed and pulled by fate and the opinions of others, Remus always remained in the back of Severus' life, filling a place and fulfilling a need he couldn't even acknowledge for a long, long time. It wasn't until he had to face Remus and lie to him, cutting him out of his life forever, until he had to watch him marry someone else, that he truly realized what the man meant to him and always would.
Who decides what true love is anyway? How does the heart know the truth when the mind is often so determined to follow a different path? It had taken many years and lots of painful soul searching for him to understand that Remus and not Lily was the one he truly, deeply cared about.
Severus took another thoughtful drink from his glass. He knew now there was no point in trying to forget about Remus. He'd been trying and failing for months now, and all his agonizing had accomplished was to annoy him, give him bad dreams, and far too many headaches he didn't need. Remus Lupin was the one true love of his life. He simply needed to acknowledge that fact to himself and accept that despite his feelings, it was quite likely that he'd never see him again.
Of course, that wasn't a certainty. His kiss had awakened Remus from his deathlike sleep. That had to mean that despite what Remus might believe, those feelings ran both ways. After all, if he wasn't Remus' true love, the man really would be dead now, and he wasn't.
Surely sooner or later Remus would wonder about his survival, would want to seek out the truth. If he did, wouldn't he want to see him again? If for no other reason than to force him to answer the questions he hadn't answered when they were last together? If the man wanted to find him, the clues were there, he'd made sure of that. But he'd have to want to dig them out. The question was…would he?
Severus drained his glass and set it on the table. Glancing aimlessly around the smoky pub, he noticed it had become much more crowded than when he'd come in. Suddenly, a faint shiver trickled down his spine. Instincts, honed to razor sharpness by a life spent guarding his back, clicked into place and whispered in his ear that someone was watching him. Narrowing his eyes, he scanned the room once more, carefully probing the crowd now for signs of undue interest on anyone's part, but nothing seemed amiss. There were people looking his way, of course, but no one seemed to be taking a particular interest and, as he searched, the feeling faded away like a wisp of smoke on a cool evening breeze.
Did he imagine it? Possibly, he conceded. Or at least, he might have misinterpreted what he felt. He was still a relative newcomer in town, and as such, was likely to be the object of fairly harmless curiosity by more than a few of those he came across. Most likely that was what had put him so suddenly on his guard. Probably someone had pointed him out to someone else who'd overindulged a wee bit as the man to see about getting a really top notch headache remedy. He snorted shortly. Another busy day tomorrow would most likely be the result.
Deciding that he was tired and should call it a night before he let paranoia carry him away, he got to his feet, nodded amiably at a nearby waiter and headed for the door.
Once outside on the darkened street, he decided not to push his luck by walking home, even on such a balmy, pleasant night, just in case he hadn't been totally wrong to be suspicious. So instead of taking an evening stroll up the hill, he immediately Apparated away.