THIRTEEN: Tangled

Severus Snape searched for and eventually found a dry bit of moss-covered stone to perch on in the gloaming. Potter's Draco was off speaking to Narcissa's Draco; Snape found himself torn between wishing fervently to be a fly on the wall for that conversation and running swiftly in the other direction. Granger was settled on a blanket of some sort speaking to Weasley, the new one, if he wasn't mistaken, the one with a slightly more determined set to his shoulders and an incongrously self-assured air. Granger had even pulled some drinks and small snacks from her endless handbag, as though this were some sort of blasted picnic. Evans was off on his own, though in sight, and the other Weasley was en route to join him, holding the Locket up to the fading sun.

The grown-ups, it seemed, had been left to their own devices.

"What do you plan on doing with your extraneous cargo?" Narcissa inquired, offering him a conjured cup of tea. She seemed to have regained her storied equilibrium, and now perched on the folding step just above him.

For a moment, Snape thought she was speaking of the wretched children, before he remembered Remus Lupin all over again. He turned to face the other man, whose features had gone blank in a way that even Incarcerus could not explain.

"I'm not entirely certain," Snape admitted. He eyed Lupin. "His inclusion in this madness is far from ideal. He and his friends have always been rather… impetuous."

Narcissa arched one eyebrow. Sitting there in her buttoned-up travel clothes, her hair an elaborate sculpture as she leaned forward, elbows on her knees…

Severus wanted ridiculously, impossibly, to impress her.

"Severus," she said, "I'm well aware of your dislike for him, but my son feels he could be useful to you. Well? Could you work with the man, or is it an Obliviate?"

Severus stared off into the distance, finding his eye falling on Granger and her impromptu picnic. Weasley was leaning towards her as though imparting a confidence. Both of Granger's hands were clapped over her mouth, and her cheeks were bright red; Weasley reached over and lifted a lock of Granger's hair and shook the curl, as though for emphasis.

Granger lost her composure entirely, and threw back her head to laugh. She turned towards the adults, the expression on her face incredulous, not even realizing Severus was staring, then turned to Weasley with fresh peals of laughter.

"Good to see," Narcissa said, nodding in their direction. "Things have been so grim of late. My son seems very fond of the girl as well. Do you see a future there?"

Severus choked on air. "I thought you were aware of Miss Granger's parentage," he rasped.

Narcissa eyed him sharply. "I am, indeed. It would be very well for Draco to marry a Muggleborn witch, once the war is over. She is clearly well-bred, even if she doesn't know our ways. Pretty enough, one supposes, if she would consent to chopping off that mane of hers. And you know," she added with a twinkle to her eye, "one must breed back to Gryffindor stock now and again, for vigor."

"It's a mad thought," Severus said. "Abandon it at once if you value your sanity."

Narcissa's thoughtful expression did not shift. Indeed, she tilted her head as she stared across the fen at Hermione Granger, and her eyes narrowed when Weasley handed the girl a book with a strange pair of spectacles. "If my Draco could grow half the affection for the girl that the other has, it would be a match," she eventually replied.

"Your son is too proud," he countered, sharply, suddenly sick of her. As though they could all turn this around so quickly, as though her Draco could forget everything he'd ever heard about blood purity and be someone new. He wasn't even certain Narcissa herself could; he knew the woman well enough to know that she spun lies with alarming ease, solely in order to gague reaction.

He knew her son had inherited the propensity or learned it, more's the pity.

Narcissa looked up, surprised, her blue eyes wide. "Do you suppose so?" She smiled. "I have seen that he could be someone I am fiercely proud of, so long as I allow him to cast his lot with the other children here. I'll see him do so, will he or nill he." Her lips thinned. "I have stopped planning for the Dark Lord's ascendance and I have begun planning for his defeat. That, and what comes after. Have you?" She stood and walked a small distance away so that he was staring at the small of her back, stiff under her traveling robes.

Severus sighed, fingering his wand. "Finite incantatem."

Lupin drew in a deep breath; Severus recalled the way that Incarceration clamped down on even the ribs, so that it was hard to breathe, and was fiercely glad.

"You haven't murdered me, or Obliviated me, so I can only assume you mean to convince me," Lupin began, after he had smoothed his robes with a swift sweep of both hands.

"As a matter of fact," Snape said, "I'm going to see if we can speak civilly. If a few moments pass without shouting or hexing, we shall see."

Lupin clenched and unclenched his fists. "You… you murdered Albus Dumbledore."

Severus knew he should try to mitigate the fallout, but he felt himself nod. "I did."

"You admit it," Lupin said in a choked voice. "You say it just like that."

"I do," Snape said.

Lupin's eye roved over Severus's face, and the man took in a deep breath through his nose. "But you're not –"

"What am I not, exactly?" Severus pressed.

"…a murderer," Lupin said, putting his head in his hands and dragging both palms across his face.

"I have told you that I am."

Lupin shook his head, still staring into Severus's features.

"Just like a Gryffindor," Snape spat, losing his patience. "If I say I am not a murderer, you accuse me. I swear that I am, and you deny me. Contrary creature!"

"I am a creature," Lupin said, voice rough. "You've known that since I was fifteen."

Snape froze. He didn't like to think about that, about the fact that he had seen a young Remus Lupin with fur and fangs and rending claws; and he didn't know what possible relevance that could have, now.

"Back then, the laws were…" Lupin issued a shaky laugh. "…harsher… you could have done anything, Severus, anything with what you knew…" He sighed. "You didn't. And. And I can't make the same mistake, twice. My gut told me Sirius hadn't… but I listened to everyone else… and now he's dead and there's nothing I can do."

Severus stared, horrified. Was there something he had done to make himself a magnet for emotional Gryffindors?

But when Lupin looked up, his expression was hard. "I know you're not a murderer, Snape. So this time – no. This time, I can't ignore it… in a way I want to accept the simpler story, but I can't."

"But I did kill him," Severus said stubbornly, feeling like he was clinging to composure with both hands in the face of this unexpected and vehement denial. "He looked me in the eye and I killed him and he fell."

Somehow, this speech did not have the intended effect of causing Lupin to clam up or go to one of the children for a more straightforward answer. Instead, when Severus looked up, Lupin's features held pain and horror and understanding, of all things.

"Severus, please," Lupin said, in unconscious echo, leaning forward. "Tell me."

And it was those words that undid him, unspooled all of his reservations and suspicions and left him troublingly pliant. Severus clenched his hands together in his lap, and began to speak.

It was Evans's face that brought him out of it what seemed like ages later, but was probably a half an hour or less: sunset spilled gold and crimson light across the fens, and the children were all returning.

Evans looked like death standing by his own Ronald Weasley, both their faces pale as milk. Severus found himself vaulting to his feet and meeting them halfway. "What is it?" he demanded. "Are you hurt?"

Harry shook his head and wordlessly held the Locket aloft, then slowly rotated in place: north, east, south, west. At first, Severus thought him enchanted, but he saw what had so terrified the boy soon enough:

The Locket swung towards Potter. On the upstroke, no matter which way he turned.

"Your pockets," Severus said. "There's something in your pockets."

Evans threw his cloak down, then turned out each and every pocket of his shirt and trousers, maintaining his uncanny silence all the while. He held the pendulum out, and it strained towards him.

Granger and Weasley – the foreign one, the one with messy, disordered hair – returned from their impromptu picnic laughing, but swiftly silenced at the tableau. "What is it?" Granger whispered, much as Severus had. "What's wrong?"

"Potter's a Horcrux," Malfoy said as he emerged from behind the carriage – three guesses as to which Malfoy, Severus thought. "He's got a bit of the Dark Lord's soul somewhere lodged up inside him."

"That's impolitic, dear," Narcissa chided as the other Draco emerged as well, frowning in concern.

"Your pockets," Granger blurted in relief. "You're – you're carrying something –"

"Not unless Voldemort made a Horcrux out of my pants, or bellybutton lint," Harry said.

"Clever, that," the Ron beside him put in, white-faced. "No one'd ever know."

"He made me into a Horcrux," said Harry in a strange, far-off voice. "When – when he killed my mum." He sat down suddenly. "I don't – what do I do?" He looked up at Severus. "Dumbledore told you everything," he said, "everything, did he tell you this? Did he tell you I had to – what? Be destroyed? Do I have to be destroyed?"

Severus knelt before him and shook his head. "He might've said… something, but I didn't imagine that – no, Evans, you're not going to be destroyed, no-one's going to be destroying you."

Harry looked up and the horror in his expression gave way to determination. "I don't care," he said. "I don't care, actually, if it gets rid of him it's a small price to pay, I'll do – I'll do whatever it takes, and I trust you, trust all of you to finish what we've started here, and I don't care."

Draco took him by the shoulders and shook him. "Shall I slap you for good measure?" he inquired. "Then again, you might like it; you seem as fond of pain and self-sacrifice as the Harry Potter I know. Think for a moment, will you? There has to be a way around this."

Granger had already broken free of her insistence that the Horcrux was some other object and was rooting around in her handbag, presumably for research materials. Severus felt an unexpected stab of fondness for her when she produced a number of books and proceeded to hand one to everyone present – even Narcissa's Draco, who took his with a curled lip, looking like Granger might be contagious.

One by one, the others called Lumos; one by one, lights flickered into being in a circle around their makeshift little camp, the thestrals nibbling at the bugs in the heath, Narcissa's Elf nodding to sleep in his seat; cicadas hummed in the dying summer heat, and off to the west an owl hooted plaintively.

"Killing a living Horcrux destroys it, here," Malfoy said after a moment, handing the book he was reading to his counterpart.

Draco looked up from the book and nodded. "He's right." A few moments later, Granger chimed in: "…confirmation," she said in a heavy voice, handing her own book to Draco and thumping the page with her finger.

Severus thought it remarkable that she did so. That Malfoy would choose to only trust – well, himself – made sense. The Granger girl trusting Draco's judgement before all others was… exceptional.

Isn't this cozy? Will there be a campfire and marshmallows next?

Severus mastered himself enough not to startle as a dark figure appeared behind Draco, palms pressed to the top of both slender thighs, leaning over, peering at Draco's research text behind a waterfall of dark red hair. Severus closed his eyes over the image and ignored the voice that echoed through him, singing in his blood, reverberating against his bones.

My boy has to die, is that it? Lily's spectre inquired, voice light as a cool breeze. After all the trouble I went to, have I only delayed things?

"We're barking up the wrong tree," Draco said suddenly, slamming his book closed. "If Potter has to die, we should be searching for ways to revive him. Die means to stop breathing, for the heart to stop beating – surely we can manage that for an instant's time, and pull Potter back from the brink. That won't necessarily have anything to do with Horcruxes."

Lily reached forward and toussled the air above Draco Malfoy's head with a relieved grin. Thank god, she said, looking at Severus now. Isn't he amazing? Do you think we could keep him?

"A spell is what comes to mind," Narcissa said, "but a powerful connection such as that is not lightly made, nor easily made, nor swiftly made. Even something such as Necto fiddes allows only the most peripheral awareness of those who are bound."

Draco stood, suddenly, and made his way to where Severus, Narcissa and Lupin were clustered, handing his book to Granger on his way. "Professor," he greeted Snape in a low voice, then smiled a strangely warm smile that included Lupin as well. "Potter needs someone here to hang onto, someone who can pull him back from… wherever. I'm… uniquely qualified."

"You don't have that connection with this Harry," said Severus, shaking his head. "Nor do you with your own Harry – not anymore."

"No, listen," Draco said, shushing him with a wave of one hand. "I think if you removed those connections, you can rebuild them – with this Harry, I mean, on the other end."

"I'm sorry, I must confess to being rather lost," Lupin interrupted mildly.

"Harry cast the Imperius Curse on me," Draco said, quickly, "only for a moment, but our minds are similar enough to have made a sort of permanent connection. I think I can recreate that connection, with Professor Snape's help."

"It would be like repairing a torn weaving," Severus said, but the idea was beginning to take hold. "The work would be tricky. It might take some time."

"The Imperius Curse?" Lupin echoed, still a beat behind. "Harry?"

Draco's lips thinned. "Mad, I know, but he was using Obscura at the time…"

Severus stared. "Potter… and Occlumency… do not mix."

"Look," Draco said with a scowl, "we'll discuss this as civilized folk do, with a steaming cuppa and some lovely biscuits when we all can find the time. For now, it suffices to say that when Potter and I were connected, I knew where he was all the time, I could stop him from performing Obscura, I could tell when he was angry or upset, I had his dreams. I think it'll do. Provided you're up to the challenge of restoring the connection," he added with a nod Snape's way.

Severus was nodding thoughtfully, but at the same time the blasted werewolf was shaking his head. "You formed this connection from the Imperius Curse?" he pressed. "Mister Malfoy –"

" – you've given me all the warnings already," Draco wearily cut in. "Considering it's Harry's – Potter's – life, I believe I'll take the bloody risk."

Narcissa nodded. "Rebuilding the remains of an older connection might be just the thing," she said.

Severus watched with Lily as Draco went off to explain his idea to the children. He appeared to be couching much of his argument to Harry, but he supposed that made sense: it was Harry, after all, with whom he was proposing to engage in a rather intimate connection. After a moment, he could see Evans nodding, and the nodding looked eager, grateful, not reluctant or frightened as Severus realized he had been subconsciously expecting.

Draco returned with a twitched grin. "N-n-no time like the present," he stammered.

"But your medication first, I think," Narcissa Malfoy said, and handed him a slim bottle.

The blond boy blushed. "Thanks," he replied, and downed its contents. "Well?" he said to Severus.

Severus required absolute concentration, and so had walked off with Draco and Evans, taking Hermione's blanket with them. Off in the distance, he could see the wandlight-glow of Lumos, like oversized fireflies clustered around the Malfoys' travel carriage, could see the lamplight of the carriage itself. Lupin had insisted on traveling with them, and promised not to be distracting, had only laughed when Severus informed him that his very presence was distracting.

Lily trailed them, her bare feet squelching in the wet, but leaving no prints that Severus could see. She clutched her skirts in both pale hands, holding them above the standing water, as though that made any sort of sense. Remus, she said as she trailed them, Remus Lupin, Severus, how did you manage it? A pause. Was it one of the others? Did they bring him? They did. But still he follows you up this hill. Is it to help you or to watch you, I wonder?

"Both," Severus said, and Lupin, who was closest, raised his eyebrows. "Nothing," Severus replied to the unspoken question, shaking his head. "Thinking aloud."

Lupin said nothing, turning his attention back to the two boys ahead, Potter's hair gone dark as midnight in the dimness, Malfoy's cap of white-blond hair shining like the moon. Their heads were bent together as they walked, and Malfoy's hands sketched explanatory designs in the air before him, perhaps he's telling him what to expect, and Severus had abruptly lost track of whether that was his own thought or Lily's voice; when he turned, she was gone.

"What is it?" Lupin said, leaning forward as they climbed.

"What is what?"

"You're watching something. Is there something there?"

Severus cast a wary glance Lupin's way, but the werewolf was still focussed on picking his way forward, and paid Severus no mind. "No, nothing; I am only thinking," he replied, a little quickly.

"You were following something with your eyes before, as well," Lupin said, and Severus's head jerked up. He had been seeing Lily since he'd woken, no-one had noticed. But he should have known: besides the fact that the werewolf likely had keener eyes than them all, he was more suspicious of Severus, and therefore more inclined to watch him. Atop that, the children were less likely to see a professor, any professor, as a human being with the potential for human foibles. To Remus Lupin, he was just another man, a man he'd known when they were boys together at Hogwarts, not a loathed, fearsome professor with power over his detentions and Hogsmeade weekends.

"If there is a danger, I must know," Lupin said, after he had judged that Severus would not respond.

"It is no danger," Snape said, unless it's for my sanity. "When my eyes wander, I am... intent on a problem."

"Is it Dumbledore?" Lupin inquired in a quiet, respectful voice.

Severus's attention jerked to the other man so rapidly he almost took a header into the dirt. "I – no, why would you -?"

"Because," Lupin said, gravely, "when… James and Lily died, I… dreamed about them. Sometimes those dreams carried over to when I opened my eyes."

Severus said nothing for a long moment, processing this. He had not imagined that he and the werewolf had anything in common, much less the very same flavour of insanity. The thought was somehow comforting. "I – hope, then, you will…" He wasn't certain how to go about suggesting it, really, because it presupposed that Lupin would stay, that Lupin would help them, "…if you notice anything, any changes…"

Lupin shot him an odd look.

"In me, I mean," Severus went on, feeling terribly wrong-footed. "In me. You should not fear to – say something. To tell me if I grow… unreasonable."

"To tell you," Lupin repeated, "if you grow unreasonable."

"I do not find this humourous," Snape said, and why should he have supposed the ex-Marauder might understand? He felt unforgivably foolish for even suggesting that Remus Lupin look out for him. It'd been a mad thought, as mad as Draco Malfoy marrying Hermione Granger when they came of age.

"No, no, it's not, I didn't mean…" Lupin trailed off, and sighed, swearing quietly under his breath. "Look, I really – I hope you'll do the same for me. Tell me, I mean, if…" He raked a hand through his hair and began again. "I'm not exactly stable, lately, myself."

Severus's gaze flickered over to him. "I hadn't noticed."

"It creeps up on me," Lupin replied. "I'm my usual self, and then – temper. I can't stop it, I scream, I do – very foolish things. It seems perfectly normal at the time, I can't even feel myself growing out of control, it feels… righteous, even. It is only afterwards when I realize I've been a fool or worse." He looked up ahead. "Harry and Malfoy –"

"Draco," Severus corrected. "Drive yourself mad, otherwise. Madder."

"It appears they've found a spot."

Up ahead was a spate of flat land; Evans was shaking out Hermione's blanket over the wet ground and gesturing to Draco, who sat down beside him.

"I was only a professor for one year," Lupin said, meditatively, "but don't you feel as though you're chaperoning some sort of ludicrous field trip?"

"Marshmallows and campfire songs," Severus muttered, but Lupin heard him, and laughed.

The boys were settled when they finally reached the crest of the hill. Severus turned to find that they had risen higher than he would have thought; the hill's slope had been gradual, easy going. But now that they had reached the summit, he could see that it swept below them quite a ways. The carriage, now, was six points of clustered light in the distance below.

Severus seated himself across from Draco, who nudged Harry. The dark-haired boy offered up his hand, and Draco took it, bumping the other boy's shoulder against his own: "Easy, it's going to be okay."

Evans blushed at having to be reassured, but eventually he nodded. "Let's get on with it, then," he replied.

Severus saw Lupin turn in the opposite direction and realized that the other man had come along to keep watch while they were all vulnerable.

Maybe this was going to be all right, Severus thought in surprise, ducking his head and turning his focus to Draco's mind.

Sweet Merlin, Severus gasped once he was deep enough to gaze around.

It was an unmitigated disaster here.

Stray connections to Potter were still present, and swung back-and-forth like charmed snakes, or seaweed moving in invisible currents. Their jagged edges and floating-free associations made him wince.

You're lucky, said the familiar, chiding voice, that he didn't go irrevocably mad, Severus. Fix your mess.

But Severus was already reaching out, god, what had he done in here, and bringing two severed edges together, pulsing his own energy into soldering the connection; far away, someone gasped, bright and alive, and Severus pressed on.

It was damningly fiddlesome work, every bit so much as he had feared, and more. A tug in just the wrong spot often unravelled all of Severus's latest efforts and forced him to begin his repairs anew. And when he reached out to twist Draco's mind into Harry's, like adding a new thread to the weave, Evans gasped and fought him.

"Easy, no, it's all right," Draco said, voice taut with strain. "Bear with it a moment, it's going to be all right. It's only strange, it doesn't hurt, I promise."

Severus could feel Harry's mind opening, slowly, subtly, in response to the encouragement; but then it remained quiescent, and Severus knew he would have to shatter the boy's natural defenses to pull past.

"Hey," Draco said. "I know how important it is for you to – be on even footing with everyone. I don't understand, but I know," he went on, voice pitched low. "I'm not going to be in charge of you. I'm not going to be able to make you do anything. And you won't be able to order me. This isn't Necto fiddes."

Harry's mental barriers shivered. The boy sighed, and they fell.

Severus set to work again, dragging the connections from Draco to Harry, repairing the damage as best he could. But when he reached a tangled mess of emotion and tugged, Draco resisted.

"…you can try," Draco whispered into the night, "but that didn't happen with this Harry."

Severus drew the tangle towards Evans, who gasped and choked in surprise.

"No, I…" he stammered. "That's not me."

The free thread whipped back towards Draco and settled amongst the more-and-more-orderly skein, hiding there like some wild animal in tall grass. "S'okay," Draco mumbled, "keep going."

There were more and more threads he could not connect to the Harry of this world, though he had to pull them towards the other boy to find out.

"But that's…" Evans whispered.

"Mmm," Draco replied. "She's pretty with it shorn that short, isn't she."

And later: "…how far?"

"At least a hundred feet," was Draco's meditative answer. "If Ginny hadn't…"

"…my Cloak," Evans growled, sounding very upset through a haze of exhaustion.

"I was lying!" Draco squeaked.

The cicadas chirruped, the sky darkened, and the moon rose silently across the sky. It was directly overhead when Severus dazedly checked and re-checked the last of his work before disconnecting his mind from the Malfoy boy's, and sprawled over backwards in the grass.

"All right?" Lupin inquired, turning.

Severus nodded, but did not speak. He felt he should sleep for a week.

"Harry? Mister Malfoy?"

The two boys looked at one another, then looked up and nodded in somewhat eerie unison. Draco turned to Harry and made a face.

"It might be odd for awhile," the blond boy said, tentatively. "I mean, you're not used to –"

"S' brilliant," Harry slurred. "I mean seriously, seriously brilliant."

Severus blinked at him in surprise, and Draco hauled him to his feet.

"Merlin, if I'd known you'd take it like this," Draco huffed, but then he, too, stumbled.

"Yeah, but…" Harry frowned too. "I mean, I didn't really…" He looked up at Draco. "My Cloak!" he suddenly exclaimed, shoving him. "You bloody wanker, you took the last thing I had from my father!"

"Took it for your own good," Draco growled. "I mean, yeah… also, it was fun. But I took it for your own good."

"And Professor Snape didn't even stop you!" Harry went on with another open-handed shove. Then, he whirled on Severus. "You. You didn't. Even. Stop him."

"Professor Snape didn't think it was all that great, you having a ruddy Invisibility Cloak and traipsing about the school at night, unhindered; of course he didn't stop me." Draco frowned. "Wait." He shook his head. "I think I'm confused."

"Perhaps we ought to rejoin the others," Lupin offered. "While they can still walk," he added to Severus in an undertone.

Severus privately agreed; the behaviour of the two boys was erratic at best, mad at worst. He wanted them back with the others, where they could hopefully sleep it off before making the attempt to destroy Harry's Horcrux.

Nice little euphamism, that, said the ever-present voice.

Lupin and Severus pulled the boys to a more-or-less straight line and descended the hillock towards their party, waiting in the valley.

"…party was fun, wasn't it?" Harry inquired, grinning. "Yolande said… wait." He shook his head. "Who…?"

"Zabini?" Draco inquired. "Cool, tall, slim, blond, hates me…"

"But I can picture her," Harry said. "I can close my eyes and hear her."

"Professor Snape had to pull over all of my connections to Harry Potter. Some of them aren't yours, so they didn't stick, but I guess you saw them all. All of the important ones, anyhow."

The pair seemed to be growing a bit more logical, thank goodness.

"All that sir stuff," Evans said, hesitantly.

"I liked winding him up," Draco replied, steps surer now.

Harry stopped dead in his tracks, then ran to interpose himself between Malfoy and the carraige, off in the distance. "You," he said in the face of Draco's wide eyes. "Oh, it was you in the end." Evans's breaths were coming fast and tears sprung to his eyes. Lupin started forward, but Severus raised a hand, and Lupin came to a halt beside him.

"Oh," Draco said, quiet. "That end."

"No one's done that for me before," Evans said. "I mean, no one, not even Ron or Hermione –"

"They would've if they could," Draco said. "You underestimate their loyalty to you. A lot. I was just there, and…" He shrugged. "Mostly, I was tired. I knew what I didn't want, and that was to keep going as his servant. So…?"

"So you sacrificed yourself instead of killing me," Harry said, then shook his head. "Him. Potter."

"Let's not talk about it anymore," Draco said in a funny voice, and pulled ahead.

Severus drew up beside Harry. "Are you well?"

Harry issued a choked-off laugh and wiped at the corners of his eyes. "I thought – it'd feel strange, wrong. Uhm… crowded. And instead, it's…" He shrugged, helplessly. "It's so much."

"Magical connections tend to fade in intensity over time," Lupin offered. "In the morning it may not seem so overwhelming."

Harry nodded. "It's already fading, all of those memories that don't belong." He frowned at Severus, a concentrating look on his face, then transferred his attention to Lupin. "You were there too, though. Teaching at Hogwarts again." He blinked. "It's all going now, it's fading." His lower lip trembled. "I didn't think it'd be… but it's a loss. Like forgetting my mother's face."

"I'm so sorry, Harry," Remus began, but Harry cut him off with a raised hand.

"It's all right. It – doesn't belong to me," he said. "I'm going to catch up to Draco, he – he's probably –"

And Harry Potter ran ahead down the hill to the others.

A/N: Hello, everyone! :)

So: I am about to rec something I have never recced: original fiction!

Well, specifically, I am going to rec sam_storyteller (also samstoryteller, depending). Sam writes excellent fiction for many fandoms, including Harry Potter; he has written the very well-known 'Cartographer's Craft' amongst others. But actually I am here to rec a piece of his original fiction: Nameless.

Nameless is the sort of story you just plain don't see anymore: a story about village life. Sam writes about the town of Low Ferry, and for literally the first half of the novel, we are just getting to know the town and its people: Charles, the local churchman; Paula, who owns the hardware store; and Carmen, who runs the only restaurant. The bookshop owner seems beloved by all, and is frankly sort of Gary-Stuish from the get-go, until we realize his intellectualism gets in his way, and often the people of Low Ferry know better than he about What Truly Is. The town itself, which is Up North in a big way, has its own personality, with its harsh winters and faulty powerlines and slow springs. But the story, just like a Low Ferry winter, creeps up on you and settles right into your bones.

It's hard to explain Sam's skill unless you've read his work before, but I must say I found myself shocked to read, with relative excitement, about bookbinding and door-painting, and the million little day-in-the-life snippets included here. He is just that good.

The story doesn't stay day-in-the-life: the main character's peaceful existence is infiltrated by Low Ferry newcomer Lucas, a cripplingly shy outcast who our hero takes a shine to right away. Slowly but surely it becomes clear that there is more to Lucas than meets the eye; and before he knows it, our logical intellectual is embroiled in some very illogical doings.

To say this book is slow to start would be an understatement. One has to enjoy slice-of-life stories to appreciate the slow build, but if you do you will be amply rewarded with a story as rooted and intricate as any I have known. Low Ferry and its inhabitants will stay in my mind for a long time to come.

I recommend that you read the pdf file, but also download the ebook ($3 well-spent, if you ask me). Those who self-publish rely on the kindness of strangers, and their recs.

They also rely on reviews! I hope you'll gift me with one. ;)

-K