Chapter 25

Missions and Meetings

Lyra remained absent from headquarters following that day. If she did attend meetings, it was only punctually and departed promptly afterward. Sirius had offered countless apologies, which had started to grate on her nerves. Therefore, when he apologized once more, she made the decision to let it go. This matter wasn't worth her time, and she had likely been subjected to worse insults than what he had directed at her. After accepting his apology, she succumbed to Dumbledore's persistent requests and returned to stay there. Nevertheless, the second room in the attic, which belonged to Snape, remained firmly closed each time she was present.

Gradually, Lyra began to rebuild her friendship with Sirius. This time, Sirius refrained from making inappropriate advances. He behaved normally, displaying humor, wit, and genuine kindness. He no longer hovered around her or pried into her affairs. Lyra couldn't tell if it was the result of Lupin and Dumbledore talking to him or if he had come to the realization that he needed to grow-up. Whatever the cause, it worked, and Lyra appreciated his efforts to grow up.

As for Snape, Lyra paid him no attention whatsoever. He hadn't made an attempt to apologize, and she observed him sulking around, terrifying anyone in his path. She had no interest in his antics. She hadn't cared during the previous term, and she certainly didn't care now. Besides, she had other pressing matters to attend to. She understood that her actions, especially slapping him in front of others and forgiving Black, had wounded his ego. However, the comments he had made merely to one-up Sirius had not sat well with her. She had never wanted to be a part of their childish rivalry. How she found herself caught in the middle of those two men remained a mystery to her.

Sirius's words, she understood. He was an open book, and it didn't require legilimency to decipher Sirius Black's thoughts and emotions. Most of the time, he voiced them aloud, regardless of the consequences for himself or those around him. So, Lyra understood where he was coming from. He harbored feelings for her, which she didn't reciprocate, so he had acted out like the immature man-child he could be. She understood and was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt, hoping he would see reason. He ultimately proved her right. His behavior changed, and he became more tolerable. He ceased his constant attempts to charm her. In fact, if Lyra could predict the future, she suspected he might redirect his attention to Hestia Jones, with whom he had been close during school and who would likely welcome his advances.

Maybe, Snape's words stung more, because she had expected better from him. She had found their banter to be something she looked forward to, a friendship of some sort that she had attempted to build. However, she was too angry to even consider it, at the moment.

"This is hopeless, Burst!" Lyra growled one evening, frustration gnawing at her as she tugged at her hair. Seated at her usual spot in the kitchen, she pored over the latest research on the previous war. Her Phoenix, Burst, regarded her with perplexed eyes before fluttering over and affectionately rubbing her head against her master's.

A fond smile graced Lyra's lips as she gently stroked her loyal companion. She couldn't help but be grateful for Burst's comforting presence; without her, she might have gone mad.

A soft knock on the door interrupted her thoughts, prompting Lyra to turn and discover the late-night visitor she had been hoping for. To her disappointment, it wasn't him; he remained concealed in his room.

"Mr. Potter? What are you doing up so late?" She asked, taking in the tired figure of the young boy standing at the doorway.

"I couldn't sleep...I had a nightmare." Harry replied, rubbing his weary eyes and letting out a sleepy yawn.

"Please, sit." Lyra invited, gesturing to an empty chair across from her.

Lyra rose from her seat and went to the cupboard, retrieving a few items.

"I'm not exactly a culinary expert, but this usually helps me on tough nights. If it's not as perfect as it should be, please bear with me. Cooking and potions have never been my strong suits." She chuckled softly.

"I never quite embraced the domestic arts; I would have made a dreadful housewife."

Returning to the table, she presented two large mugs of hot chocolate. Harry's eyes lit up at the sight. He hadn't had a cup of cocoa in months, as the Dursleys had stopped stocking anything worthwhile after Dudley began his wrestling diet.

"Thank you!" Harry said gratefully, accepting the mug and taking an eager sip.

"Not so fast!" Lyra almost exclaimed, her voice slightly louder. She reached for a dusty cookie jar that seemed to hold a year's supply of chocolate. From it, she extracted the largest and perhaps most expensive chocolate bar, broke it in half, and then split one of those halves into two, adding them to their mugs.

"A little extra happiness won't hurt anyone, but let's keep Professor Dumbledore's secret stash truly secret. For someone so wise, he's not very good at hiding his chocolates." Lyra quipped, a mischievous grin playing on her lips. She then poured a generous amount of fire whiskey into her own mug from her hip flask. Harry grinned at her as they both savored the sweet, warm concoction in a comfortable silence.

"So, what was your nightmare about?" Lyra finally inquired.

"The same one I've been having for months. I was back in the graveyard, and..."

Lyra listened as Harry recounted the night's events as if he had just lived through them. When he reached the part about his parents, he hesitated before speaking about how his wand had connected with Voldemort's. His expression shifted to one of distress as he did so.

"May I see your wand, Harry?" Lyra asked, and Harry promptly retrieved it from his jacket pocket.

"My brother...he's the one with the talent in wandlore. However, a priori incantatem...it's a powerful reverse spell. It can't be cast independently." Lyra explained as she examined the wand closely.

"Neither of us cast the spell...our wands share a common core, a feather sourced from the same Phoenix."

"Fascinating..." Lyra mused, returning Harry's wand.

"Harry, you are an exceptionally powerful wizard. No ordinary fourteen-year-old could have lived through what you've experienced. There's something about you, something that Voldemort...let's say, can't ignore."

"What do you mean?"

"He underestimates your potential, Harry. What he witnessed that night at the graveyard...he's afraid of you. He's afraid that perhaps, it's you, not Dumbledore, who poses the greatest threat to his power."

"Do you not find it mysterious that Voldemort, a powerful dark wizard, couldn't kill a baby?"

"He couldn't kill you either..."

"He could have, if Dumbledore hadn't stepped in..."

Harry studied her words carefully. She looked back at him.

"I...am sometimes foolish at understanding my own capabilities." She added taking a deep sip from her mug.

"It was my mum—her love protected me...when I was a baby...I am not as powerful as you, Ms. Marks." Lyra smiled at him gently.

"It did, Harry, it did. Your mother loved you deeply, and you must have meant the world to her. There's magic in our world that we can't fully understand or control. In your case, it was the power of love."

"In my case..."

Lyra twiddled at the ring on her finger and snapped her fingers, conjuring a small fire in her palm. Harry's eyes widened as the flame slowly burnt her hand. It wasn't a normal burn. No, it was different, it was like the fire was delaying hurting her as much as possible.

"Harry, people like me need conduits to control elements, to manage our powers. Without them, we can have episodes that are unimaginably dangerous. Then there are emotions like revenge, fear, happiness, anger, greed, and love that are so magical, they manifest without any external catalyst. Your mother's love was so strong that it protected you as a baby. And the part of you that's still connected to her...it continues to shield you. I understand now why Dumbledore insisted on keeping you with your relatives."

"My relatives hate me, Ms. Marks...they don't love me."

"Oh, Harry, don't you see? The same blood that runs through you—your mother's blood—it's what's keeping you safe. It's a blood bond, a form of blood magic. Your aunt may not love you, but she must have loved her sister."

Harry vehemently shook his head.

"You don't see it, Harry, but she must have."

"So, you're saying I'm powerful because my mum loved me?" Harry scoffed.

"Blood status doesn't determine power, Harry."

"You're a prime example. You don't really know yours." He added.

"The prejudice is rubbish. Anyone can be a powerful witch or wizard, regardless of their blood. Look at your friend, Ms. Granger; she's destined for greatness, without a doubt. But, Harry, in your case, your mother's love has been protecting you all these years."

"And not even Voldemort can change that. Do you know why, Harry?"

Harry shook his head.

"Because he doesn't know how to love. All he craves is power, a hunger for greatness, he's driven by dark and violent desires."

"I'm sure you've heard about how I cast a Fiendfyre that night." Lyra said lighting herself a cigarette. Harry nodded.

"A Fiendfyre is a dangerous spell, even with a wand, Harry. It's considered very dark magic. Most days, I have a tight control over my magic, but I won't deny that there's darkness within me. I regret it every day, but it's a part of me, a part I must live with. But you, Harry, you're still young. Don't let darkness consume your heart."

"Sometimes...I feel...sometimes, I don't know how to explain it..." Harry began, his hand rubbing his neck nervously. He was about to reveal something he hadn't shared with anyone else.

"I feel like Voldemort and I have some sort of connection, Ms. Marks. Every time he's near, the scar he gave me hurts, it's agonizing, and then there's..."

"Go on..." She encouraged.

"... and then there are times, not always, but when I'm asleep, it's like our minds are connected. Sometimes, I can see things he's seeing, feeling, or doing. And it feels like I'm there...watching...doing them..." He sounded extremely disturbed.

Lyra sat in contemplative silence. Her well-honed skills as a Legilimens gave her the ability to peer into minds, observe thoughts, and even implant ideas after multiple intense sessions. While this art was often rooted in the darker aspects of magic, it found acceptance in specific professions. Yet, throughout her extensive studies and career, she had never encountered a direct control link between two individuals. Only the Imperius curse had the ability to allow the castor control over another. Lyra had also never heard of someone being able to penetrate another's mind without being in close proximity.

"Perhaps they are just dreams, Harry." She offered, her voice gentle as she leaned forward.

"But why do they feel so incredibly real then?" Harry pressed, frustration evident in his voice.

"Why does it seem like... like I'm the one experiencing those events?"

Lyra furrowed her brow, searching for an explanation that eluded her.

"The human mind has a penchant for playing tricks on us when we sleep. It's crucial to learn how to clear your mind, especially before bedtime."

They sat quietly for moments as Harry examined their conversation in his head.

"Thank you for the cocoa and this conversation. It's been helpful."

"And I want to apologize for what happened the other day. Sirius, means well. He's a good person, but life hasn't been kind to him."

With that, Harry rose from his seat.

"Sirius and I, will work things out, Harry, you needn't worry about that." Lyra reassured him with a warm smile.

"And what about you and Professor Snape?" Harry inquired, his words cautious.

"That, remains uncertain." She replied with a knowing glint in her eye.

"Well...maybe if he had friends, he wouldn't be such a miserable person!"

Lyra couldn't help but chuckle at Harry's candidness. She understood that the animosity between Harry and Snape ran deep, but it seemed the young wizard was beginning to grasp that his potions professor was, in fact, fighting for a just cause.

"Good night, Harry. Remember to clear your mind."

Harry returned her smile, bidding her a good night before disappearing into the dark corridor. Lyra's eyes lingered on the vanishing figure until he was swallowed by the shadows.

Lyra sat in her office, surrounded by paperwork, and let out a weary sigh. She was utterly exhausted after a long day, with the added hangover from Harry Potter's birthday celebration the night before. The Weasleys, along with Sirius, Lupin, and other members at the headquarters, had thrown him a party. Once the children had retired to their rooms, the adults had opened bottles of wine and Firewhiskey that Sirius had discovered while cleaning the cellar. They indulged in conversations that lasted for hours.

Mrs. Weasley spoke fondly of her children, while Lupin and Sirius reminisced about their days at Hogwarts. Minerva chimed in, recounting how she had to rule over them with an iron fist to maintain some semblance of discipline. They shared stories of their friend James, Harry's father, and how much they missed him. Lyra had eventually left the party at two in the morning to get some rest, while the others continued chatting.

It was a Sunday, but it was a working one for her, as medical emergencies had piled up on her desk throughout the day. Lyra had somehow managed to complete the day's work and left the hospital around six in the evening. Her stomach growled loudly as she walked towards headquarters. She hoped Mrs. Weasley had prepared her famous Sunday Stuffed Pork Chops; Lyra had been looking forward to them all day.

As she stepped out of her car and entered the house, Fred and George greeted her with cheeky smiles, leaving her wondering what mischief they had been up to this time. Lyra made her way to the kitchen, anticipating Mrs. Weasley's warm smile and a delicious meal. However, her hopes were dashed when she found Snape and Dumbledore sitting at the table, engaged in a discussion. She quickly tried to retreat without being noticed.

"Lyra, we've been waiting for you." Dumbledore called out. Lyra clenched her jaw; Dumbledore's swiftness was uncanny. She reluctantly turned back and walked into the kitchen, where Dumbledore used his wand to shut the door behind her.

"Please, have a seat." He said, offering her a kind smile. Lyra complied silently, her frustration growing along with her hunger.

"I have a crucial mission for both of you." Dumbledore began, but Lyra had little interest. She was tired and hungry, and the last thing she wanted was to work with Snape.

"Albus, I'm really tired and very hungry. You might want to ask someone else."

"Everyone else is occupied, and you're truly the most suitable for this, my dear."

"Can't I do this with Remus instead?"

"As I said, Lyra, I need both of you..."

"I'm really not interested in this, Albus."

"It's imperative that this is done tonight, and we have a limited window of opportunity."

Lyra rolled her eyes, foreseeing that this wasn't going to end the way she hoped. She gritted her teeth and reluctantly gestured for Dumbledore to continue.

"This letter must be hand-delivered to Petunia Dursley. It serves as a reminder for her to uphold her promises to me and informs her that her nephew will not be returning to her next year. Instead, he will stay with Sirius and the Order, where we can provide him with the protection he requires."

"Why can't you just send it by owl?" Snape sneered.

"Because they've covered their windows."

"A likely excuse!" Snape added, his tone skeptical. Dumbledore fixed him with a stern look over his half-moon glasses. Snape huffed and looked away.

"The Dursleys will be dining at a restaurant in London for their anniversary. I need the two of you to dine there as well and hand them this letter once they've finished their meal. That's all. This should cover the expenses. Here is the address. I suggest you both dress appropriately; it's quite an upscale Muggle establishment. And please, don't get distracted." Dumbledore instructed, handing them Muggle money and a sealed envelope. He then stood up, ushering them to leave just as Lupin entered the room with a hefty file, observing Snape and Marks storming out.

"What happened this time?" Lupin asked Dumbledore, sounding exasperated by the ongoing drama.

"Never mind, Remus. Let's proceed with our discussion..."

Lyra, fuming with frustration, entered her room and stomped around for a few seconds. She then took a deep breath, opened her trunk, and threw it apart. She hardly had any appropriate attire for this mission. She wasn't one to frequent fancy restaurants, nor was she interested in such endeavors. She finally found a black dress with a plunging neckline and put it on in irritation. With a sigh, she threw on a pair of earrings and fastened the only pair of heels she possesed. Her hair, previously in a messy ponytail, was released to cascade below her shoulders. She quickly waved her wand over it to make it more presentable, and then applied lipstick with meticulous yet irritated precision.

"This is absolutely ridiculous!" She grumbled while glaring at her reflection.

Burst, her Phoenix, let out an approving coo.

"I know I look good... but I don't want to play dress up, Burst! This mission is so absurd! And what makes Dumbledore think that Snape and I could pass for a couple?"

Lyra eventually arrived at the restaurant, seething with anger. She was both famished and irritated. Dumbledore had paired her with Snape, thrown her into this mission blindly, and then Snape had left her alone. He had left her a note, chastising her for being late and suggesting that she sit this one out if she couldn't follow simple orders, knowing there was a strict time limit.

The restaurant's manager and host greeted her with big smiles and snooty British accents when she mentioned her name. They directed her to the table, pulling out a chair and ensuring she was comfortably seated. However, she had yet to see Snape's face. When he finally came into view, she was taken aback. He had slicked his hair back into a neat bun, and a light stubble graced his jawline, adding to his suave demeanor. His navy suit was immaculate, complemented by a crisp white shirt. Although he hadn't worn a tie, his cufflinks appeared expensive. The scent of an upscale cologne lingered around him. Lyra couldn't help but think that if she were a Muggle, he could easily be mistaken for someone with substantial wealth – not just money, but old-world aristocracy.

"Good evening, Sir, Madam. Here's the menu. May I bring you any drinks to start with?" The maître d' inquired.

Lyra snapped back to attention as Snape sneered at her.

"Lyra, would you like a drink?"

"Huh?"

"A DRINK...my dear?" He emphasized with feigned affection.

"Uh...yeah...what's your strongest whiskey? No, forget that...bring me the most expensive bottle. It's one of those nights. My generous boyfriend here seems to be in the mood. Although, he's mistaken if he thinks I'm feeling equally generous." Lyra replied with a smirk, noticing Snape's subtle discomfort. She pulled his hand into hers. To the unsuspecting Muggle staff, they appeared to be a couple who had just had a heated argument, a scene they were all too familiar with.

"Right away!"

"And are we celebrating something special today?" The maître d' asked adding.

"Just a special date night. He recently got promoted at work, which unfortunately means less time for me." Lyra chimed in, keeping up the facade of a disgruntled girlfriend.

The maître d' snapped his fingers as if signaling the staff that this table required special attention due to the potentially hefty bill.

Once he left, they quickly let go of each other's hands. Lyra then focused on the menu to avoid eye contact with Snape, who was giving her a stern look, urging her to stay on task. She couldn't deny that she was famished, so when the bread basket arrived, she eagerly attacked it, leaving Snape with just one lonely breadstick. He glared at her while she pretended to meticulously peruse the menu as if considering a career change.

Severus scoffed and rolled his eyes.

"Could you please control yourself?! This is not about us. We need to stick to the mission and get out of here!" He hissed.

Lyra glanced up from the menu, shot him an irritated glare as she continued to stuff her face with bread, and then returned her attention to the menu.

"The table at your twelve, behind me, that's Vernon and Petunia Dursley..." Severus began briefing her.

"I know whaf...they lookff likeff!" She replied with a mouthful of bread. Severus shot her a disgusted look.

The waiter soon returned with the requested bottle and poured them both a glass, placing the bottle back on the cart.

"Leave it!" Snapped Lyra, nearly causing the young red-haired server to jump in surprise.

"Yes, Ma'am. I'm sorry, certainly. I'm sorry, it's actually my first week here, and..." He squeaked.

Lyra scrutinized the anxious young man and glanced at his name tag on his crisp uniform.

"Christopher, is it?" She inquired, making him nod nervously.

"Well, Christopher, congratulations on your new job. Do you mind taking our order?"

"Yes, of course...Ma'am!"

"I'll have the salmon, and the gentleman will probably have…"

"I can order for myself!"

"Of course, you can, darling! No one doubts that you're a big, strong man!" Lyra replied sarcastically, adding a snarky jab that made Snape blush, clearly recalling their previous spat.

"I'll have the rib-eye, medium rare. If it's not medium rare, I will send it back!" Snape said with a threatening undertone.

"Yes, yes...sir..." Christopher replied, clearly flustered.

"That will be all, Christopher...thank you!" Lyra said, offering him a warm smile.

As soon as the young waiter left the table, Lyra downed her drink and poured herself another. She needed some liquid courage to navigate this precarious mission.

Snape retrieved the sealed envelope addressed to Petunia Dursley and placed it on the table. Their food soon arrived, and they ate in silence. Lyra kept discreetly glancing over at the Dursleys. The two of them made an unlikely couple; they didn't seem to match physically. He was large, while she was extremely thin. However, throughout the dinner, they appeared to be genuinely enjoying each other's company. Lyra realized that they were deeply in love. This perhaps explained why Mr. Dursley had endured his wife's nephew and his peculiarities. He seemed content with just his wife and son to make him happy. Despite his pompous demeanor and attempts to flaunt his meager wealth, he was loud and shallow. Still, one thing seemed certain: he adored his wife.

Lyra couldn't help but be intrigued by the glances Mrs. Dursley kept casting her way.

"Once they're done with dessert, we'll approach her and..." Snape began outlining the plan.

"There won't be any need for that. Looks like I'll have to handle this myself, as usual. Just settle the bill before I return." Lyra interrupted, standing up, snatching the letter from the table.

"Lyra—No—What are you doing?!" Snape hissed angrily, but she was already walking toward the ladies' room, and he couldn't follow her.

Lyra entered the restroom, washed her hands, and retrieved her lipstick from her bag. Just as she had suspected, Mrs. Dursley walked in.

She stood beside Lyra as they both checked their reflections, and their eyes met. Lyra offered her a friendly smile, and Mrs. Dursley cautiously reciprocated.

"Are you, um, celebrating something?" Mrs. Dursley asked tentatively. Lyra continued with the act she had rehearsed throughout dinner.

"Oh, absolutely! My boyfriend just got a promotion at work. He's a chemistry professor and just earned tenure at such a young age..."

"Oh...uh, how wonderful..."

"What about you? Are you and your husband celebrating something special?" Lyra inquired.

"Yes, it's our anniversary today. My Vernon is such a loving husband. We've been trying to secure a reservation here for ages, and he finally managed to pull some strings!"

"How lovely. I'm Lyra Marks, by the way."

"Oh, I'm Petunia Dursley."

"What do you do, Ms. Marks, if you don't mind my asking?"

"Oh, nothing too special. I'm...a doctor."

"How fascinating..."

"You're not from here, are you? Your accent..."

"Oh, I'm American. I just recently relocated for a great job..."

"How long have you known your boyfriend?"

"Not very long..."

"Oh, I see."

Lyra began reapplying her lipstick, hoping Mrs. Dursley would continue the conversation. And she did.

"This may seem a bit out of place, Ms. Marks, but as one woman to another...he's not a very good man."

"Oh, do you know Severus?" Lyra asked, intrigued. Mrs. Dursley tensed at the mention of his name.

"We were childhood acquaintances. I haven't seen him in years, but I must warn you, Ms. Marks. Be very careful around him...he's dangerous."

"Dangerous? He's just a chemistry professor."

"He may appear that way to people like us, but his kind...is deceptive."

"His kind?" Lyra snapped offendedly, unable to contain herself. She sighed; it was probably the single malt talking, clouding her judgment.

Mrs. Dursley ceased offering her advice and instead focused on Lyra, scrutinizing her from head to toe, her gaze lingering on Lyra's breasts and the unmistakable tattoo there.

"That's an interesting tattoo."

"It's a phoenix, actually."

"A phoenix?"

"Yes, a mystical bird..."

"I know what a Phoenix is..."

"And it's clear that you're one of them." Petunia said, noticing the wand poking out of Lyra's bag.

"Mrs. Dursley..." Lyra began to approach her.

"Don't come any closer! I'll call the police!" She snapped, making Lyra chuckle.

"I'm not here to harm you..."

"That's a likely story! Especially since you're here with that vile man! He had the audacity to show up for her funeral, and now he's stalking me?! What do you want?"

"I don't have any personal motives. I'm just a messenger." Lyra said softly. She reached into her bag, took out the envelope, and placed it on the dry part of the countertop.

"You're with him, then?"

"Yes, he sent us to hand-deliver this to you because owls weren't an option."

"You're...both with him?"

"Yes."

"I see...a change of loyalties, then..."

"Mrs. Dursley, I don't know you very well, but why did you say Mr. Snape is a dangerous man?"

"Because he is! He's the reason she's..." Mrs. Dursley snarled, a single tear rolling down her stoic yet sorrowful face.

"Go ask Dumbledore your questions. I'd rather never associate with your kind!" She spat before storming out of the bathroom. Lyra followed suit, returning to her table.

"Is it done?" Snape hissed. Lyra nodded, and he stood, casting a final glance toward the Dursleys. He hesitated for a moment, as if contemplating saying something, but ultimately, he exited the restaurant and began making his way into the subway nearby.

Lyra hurried to catch up with him, he paid for both their journey's home. Her frustration had reached its peak, and she couldn't hold it back any longer.

"This isn't working, Severus. You're not working. Your constant facade, those impenetrable walls you build – how do you live like this? This charade has gone on for too long, and I just can't..." She began her angry rant, gesturing emphatically as they walked side by side. But before she could finish, someone called Snape's name.

"Severus?"

Both Lyra and Snape turned to see an older Muggle man with greying blonde hair approaching. He had a rugged, well-defined jawline, suggesting he might have been quite handsome in his youth. But age had taken its toll. Lyra arched an eyebrow as she watched the scene unfold.

"Tobias?"

"Is that how you greet your father?"

For the first time, Lyra witnessed a hint of emotion on Severus' face. It was as if his carefully constructed walls came crumbling down in an instant. She sensed that Severus and his father didn't have a good relationship.

"Who's this? Your bird?" Tobias inquired, eying Lyra.

Severus remained silent, seemingly too stunned to respond.

"Hello, sir. I'm Lyra Marks. Severus'...uh bird...as you put it." Lyra introduced herself, offering him her hand. He shook it politely.

"Good God! You're American...How did this ugly sod land such a gorgeous girl like you?" Tobias chuckled.

Lyra intertwined her fingers with Severus's.

"Love works in mysterious ways, Mr. Snape."

"It certainly does," Tobias agreed.

"Well, are you going to speak, boy, or are you going to let her do all the talking?" Tobias prodded, turning his attention back to Severus.

"There's not much left to say!" Severus growled.

"I've written to you so many times, asking you to come home. Don't you care about your old father?"

"About as much as you cared about your wife and young son?"

"We all have our demons, son. I've learned to battle mine, and I want to repair our relationship."

"It's been thirteen years since Mother's funeral...you and your demons mean nothing to me."

"Your...mother made sure we never had a good relationship."

Severus clenched his teeth, his anger towards his father driving him to draw his wand.

"Severus! Are you out of your mind?!" Lyra exclaimed, gripping his outstretched hand tightly.

"She did that too...pointed that stick at me every time she lost an argument!" Tobias laughed.

"She may have threatened you with it, but don't expect me to hold back!"

"That's enough, Severus!" Lyra snapped, drawing her own wand and pressing it into Severus's side. She looked deeply concerned for him.

"Please...let's just go. Whatever this is, it's not worth it. It's not worth risking Azkaban. If you attack him, you're no better than he is." She pleaded.

Severus stood there, contemplating her words in silence. Finally, he closed his eyes in defeat. She was right. His father wasn't worth it –he had never been worth it.

"Stop writing to me. Your cheap paper is clogging up my fireplace," Severus snarled, withdrawing his wand.

"Now...if you'll excuse us...we have a train to catch."

AN/- Do let me know what you thought :)