Samuel was relieved when Jack's plane finally lifted off the runway.
Assistance was very much appreciated, but Samuel didn't like feeling that he was living under a microscope. Knowing how easily he could read John left him with few illusions that he could hide anything important from the ever intuitive Jack.
When the chips were down though, Jack had been completely supportive, helping to outfit Amanda with several months' worth of yarn and supplies, goading Samuel to allow himself a second chance with John, and soothing Troy's bruised ego. But Samuel had been longing to settle into a routine. Now was his chance.
He smiled at the homey sound of the washing machine as he locked the Bronco in the garage. It would be nice to share domestic chores with John forever. But right now nothing was certain, and he'd have to enjoy each moment as it came.
He stopped short in the kitchen doorway and felt his pulse race with sudden irritation. John was sitting alone at the table, reading 'Moby Dick'.
"What are you doing?" He didn't try to hide the simmering anger.
"I didn't think you'd mind. It was on the top shelf in the den; I haven't moved your bookmark from chapter three. Is there a problem I should know about?" John clearly wasn't hiding his ire, either.
"Amanda?" One word, and yet it dripped with sarcasm and accusation. Could the wolf have possibly forgotten the drama from Friday night?
"Samuel, it's okay. She's in the den with Troy. She seems to like him and you wanted her to gain some friends... Is that a problem?"
He felt like an idiot. Of course John would keep Amanda under tight supervision. The only problem with this solution was that Samuel hadn't thought of it himself. But it wouldn't do to admit too much. "Well you could have mentioned as much right away."
John clearly saw through his posturing, but the man just shrugged his shoulders. "Troy and Amanda have already eaten. I thought we could have lunch in here."
The food was, once again, flawless. And with a full stomach, Samuel felt more charitable. "We will all weep on the day that I prepare a meal."
"Pasta."
"What are you talking about?"
"Just make pasta. You do make an exceptional sauce, it must be enough like a potion to hold your interest." John gave him a warm smile with the compliment. "Or you could keep washing the dishes and we can call it even."
"Somehow the five minutes that I spend loading the dishwasher does not seem to be an equitable trade for the time involved in cooking palatable meals."
"I eat too. So I think it's more than fair."
"Everyone's a critic."
"Samuel, Harry sent me something today."
"And why does that involve me?"
"It's your sixth year potions text. I seem to be returning it to you again." Remus gave him a wary, evaluating look. Samuel felt as if he'd been punched when he recalled the last time a Potter returned that same book to him.
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Twenty-three-year-old Severus was lying on his side, staring across the black lake. His stomach complained that he had missed lunch, he was damp from the grass, and dusk was taking over the sky. He couldn't be arsed to do more than shiver. Mission accomplished. He would teach at Hogwarts, making him privy to the secret comings and goings of Dumbledore. Or so the Dark Lord believed.
He would also be privy to the comings and goings of the Death Eaters. Or so Dumbledore believed. What an asinine assignment. Spying on wizards who both knew he was spying. Ratatosk, carrying insults back and forth. A tool, not a person.
He must be very careful to never lead the Dark Lord to wonder exactly how much information Snape was carrying to the Order of the Phoenix. Of course, he could never let on how much he was holding back from either wizard, but Dumbledore at least, wouldn't kill him. The Dark Lord would do so much worse. He was so very dead.
So that was it. The Dark Lord held the bigger hammer. At least he'd never deluded himself with fairy tales of personal loyalty. Pawns, they were all pawns, and he could not afford to think otherwise. No meaningful friendships, no ethical pondering; this was his own arse at risk. Who cared that Lily had been a friend. Dumbledore didn't need Snape to tell him that her son was one of only two children that fit the terms of the prophesy. Every wizard for himself.
Live or die though, really didn't seem to matter anymore.
"Severus? Why are you lying in the wet grass?"
"What are you doing here, Lupin? I thought you were running with Greyback's pack. What do you think you're... Ah, I see, trying to play both ends against the middle? I'm afraid I've beaten you to it."
"Doesn't spying lose it's effectiveness when you're known to be a spy?"
"I'm afraid this game of cloak and dagger is far too complex and subtle for your Gryffindor mind to follow. But let me tell you simply. Both sides know that I carry information. It's the value of what I give each one that tips the scales. I'm safe as long as I remain more of an asset than a liability to both."
Snape smiled evilly as he continued, "You, however, are far from safe. The Dark Lord is skeptical of all his minions' loyalties, especially bloody arrogant Gryffindors who are known to be best friends with James Potter. It would only take one word from me to advise them all of your true allegiance."
"What do you want?"
"I'm afraid I don't understand what you mean."
"You want something. From me, specifically. What. Do. You. Want?"
"Your contemptible little friends took pleasure in making my life hell. Black even tried to get me killed. But do you know what's worse than that? The bastard who leaned back and did nothing to stop it, polishing his prefect's badge."
He couldn't stop, so he blundered on without taking a breath. "I want you to know how very much I hate you, your arrogance, and the rules that were broken to protect you. But Lily Evans was a friend. So tell her to be careful in whom she places her trust. And ask if she remembers how to brew Shrinking Solution."
"Done. What then?"
"I never want to see your flea-bitten hide again."
He watched then, as Lupin walked away. The man's feet barely left the ground as he hunched under what must be a heavy load of guilt and regret. Good. It would be much easier if Remus never knew how Severus really thought of him.
Wanting someone who clearly didn't want him. Craving hurt and rejection, it seemed. Severus knew that he was a sick man.
The next week, after the full moon waned, Severus told himself that it was nothing more than morbid curiosity that led him to meet with Lupin in the Hogwarts kitchens, an asinine place to meet, but definitely better than Lupin's suggestion of the Hog's Head.
A battered potions textbook lay on the table across from an equally battered-looking Remus. "Lily asked me to return that to you, with her thanks for your concern over Harry's safety." As the wolf paused to stare at him, Severus simply nodded. "As for myself, I wanted to ask, how can I make amends? I doubt I'll survive many more moon cycles. I want to pay my karmic debt before I go."
That caught Snape's attention. "What happened? The transformation would be debilitating, certainly, but the effects should only be temporary."
"Careful, Severus, somebody might suspect that you care. I'm a bit short on safe places to lock myself up. Running far into the wild seemed the best plan. Let's just say that steel-leg traps are only illegal if the trapper gets caught."
"My God, Remus!"
"You might want to curtail those Muggle oaths; I don't think your lineage is favored among your new friends. I'm not looking for sympathy. I just wanted to try to make things right between us."
Severus felt something dangerous and frightening twisting in his gut. Hope. Dammit, he didn't want to risk rejection. Too late, because he was already considering how to minimize the external risks. So only his heart could be crushed. "Chess."
"Excuse me?"
"Meet me on Wednesdays for chess. I don't have anyone to match wits against, and I would hate to lose my edge."
"Chess. Right. Severus, I want you to know two things right now. First, that I am completely aware that chess is just a front for some dastardly plot you've cooked up. And second, because I am truly sincere in my penance, I will knowingly walk into your trap. May Merlin have mercy upon my furry hide."
"That does bring up an interesting point. I find that I am not entirely comfortable meeting an unrestrained werewolf on the night of the full moon... What to do?"
"We could simply meet on a different night that week."
"No. Unacceptable. I have, however, come across a potion called 'Wolfsbane', which would allow the werewolf to retain his human mind. It's a complicated brew and will take most of the month to complete. But Albus has always treated you as a favorite. I'm sure he'd order his new Potions Master to brew it, if he knew it could help you."
"Why would you do that for me, Severus?"
"Because, if I ever learn by any means that your wolf has again run free, I will be certain that society at large is informed of your affliction. For the public good, you understand."
"You're blackmailing a werewolf." Remus sounded stunned.
"Merely applying a leash." He felt very satisfied with himself that evening.
But three months later, Lily was dead.