Part Three

Neville's Howler arrived in mid-January and finally got Harry's attention. But he doubted that it was in a way Neville would have wanted.

Since his godfather's visit and his revelations, Harry had done his best to ignore the whole situation. His only action had been to stop answering Neville's letters, which had grown progressively longer and more frantic. After all, one of the reasons he had accepted the position here was to put more distance between Neville and himself.

A clause in the contract Harry had signed specified that he had to live in Beauxbatons, to be readily available to its students. The school had very strict security rules about who could share his rooms since someone's "cojoint" had been found helping himself to the school's medical potions to sell on the black market.

The Howler had arrived just after Harry had excused his last class of the day and so no one heard the screaming, outraged rant for Harry's attention and love. There was, Harry realized, more than a hint of insanity in Neville's voice. He'd experienced enough Howlers in his day to hear the difference between anger and madness. He waited until the letter blew itself up before leaving the classroom for his rooms.

Though Beauxbatons had been built before Hogwarts, the caretakers were not great believers in maintaining the old ways. So the floors were spelled to be warm and the wind had to work hard to find a crack somewhere in the buildings to enter and turn the corridors frigid. His rooms were large, both with a wall of tall windows spelled for warmth that went from ceiling to floor. Two of those opened onto a large balcony that overlooked the back gardens.

Harry used the entry room as his study. The bookcases, which made up another of the walls, were, after a year, beginning to be filled with books, not just on Defense and Quidditch, but on other subjects. He liked to slip into Muggle Paris on weekends and peruse the book stalls around NotreDame.

A heavy, ornately carved desk, stacked with essays that needed correcting, faced the windows, back to the fireplace. It was a gift from the Wheezies, as he now thought of the four men.

He had to admit that at first the thought of his godfather shagging Fred Weasley had struck him as...strange. Sirius Black and Fred Weasley! What the hell did they have in common? As for Remus Lupin and George, he still shook his head over that pairing.

The last he'd heard before Ron and Hermione's wedding was that Padfoot and Moony were an item. Suddenly at the feast, Sirius had cleared his throat and offered a toast to his new partner. Who was more than the previously acknowledged business partner.

Besides being stunned, Harry had been wary for his godfather. Mind, several bottles of wine later, he had tearfully confided to Fred that he was delighted that his beloved godfather had been lucky enough to find someone who so obviously loved him, understood him and would take care of him should one of his black moods strike.

Fred, equally tearful, had in turn declared that he was the one who had been lucky. He'd found a partner who not only understood his love of jokes, but had provided the basis for three new and already very profitable ones.

George had matched them drink for drink, toast for toast. He and Harry had shed tears as well, over the fact that Lupin had also found a mate who not only loved him but accepted him as he was. Harry had hazy memories of Lupin drinking his usual tea, laughing at them all.

It only struck Harry now that Neville had expected a similar avowal from him, but all Harry had wanted from Neville by then was to be left alone.

Hermione had warned him, their last year at Hogwarts, not to encourage Neville's clinging. She had, he now recollected, actually backed Snape's anger though not his attempt to strangle Neville after the explosion in the potion lab.

"All right, he went too far. You can't kill a student for being a nitwit. But, Harry, Gertrude may lose the sight in her eyes because of Neville. And Marise was in a coma for three days. Neville is a danger in the lab, not just to himself. I mean, if my parents ever decided to bill him for all the robes he's destroyed over the years..."

But Harry had defended Neville then and later his inability to participate in the War fully, finding excuses in his weak Magic. He'd brought Neville along with him when he was feted, hoping that Neville's confidence would strengthen when he met wizards and witches who didn't know that Neville had spent the War behind a desk, mucking up supply lines that had cost them several opportunities.

And then, when Harry had finally decided to pull slowly away, Neville had found a way of decipher his parents' diary and the messages of their spy network. With that, the Media had descended on Neville who had begged for Harry's help and forgiveness in not decoding the documents earlier. "We might have been finished off Voldemort years sooner if I had," he'd moaned piteously to Harry.

We.

Harry opened the French doors and stepped out onto the balcony. The winter wards were up and the gardens were still green and some plants were even in bloom. He'd learnt that the visual was very important in Beauxbatons. And though he missed the lake, he had to admit that the warmth here was fully appreciated when he thought about the winds that blew off it in winter.

As for Neville, yes, he had once more taken him under his protection in spite of Hermione's and then Ron's concerns. In retrospect, a bad move.

In his own defence, Harry had pointed out how horrible seventh year at Hogwarts had been. There had been the NEWTs to pass and Voldemort had picked exam time to up his attacks on the wizardry world. And Harry had been even more stressed out with the private lessons that Dumbledore had insisted he take with Snape. Neville had been a relief from all that intensity. And Harry had to admit that his ego had taken quite a battering under Snape so having someone around who...idealized...

"Fuck, Harry," he snarled aloud, startling a bird out of a near-by tree, "be honest, if only with yourself. You got off on the fact that Neville hung onto your every word, that he offered such a sympathetic ear for all the ranting you did against Snape."

Fucking shit! Was that why Neville had invented that bloody diary of his parents? Had his, Harry's, behaviour been a contributing factor? Oh, he didn't doubt at all that most of Neville's revenge had been based on how Snape had treated him, but...

And Harry had used Neville a lot as a venting board. Too much. But he'd trusted Neville when he really hadn't trusted Snape. With some reason.

The special lessons in the Dark Arts had continued even after Harry had officially graduated from Hogwarts and was supposedly training in the Department of Mysteries.

Hell, no wonder Snape had wanted to teach DADA: he was a repository of incredibly dirty spells and curses that had at first shocked Harry by their underhandedness but later, in battle, he'd grown to appreciate. They had saved his life and that of his friends around him until, three years after leaving Hogwarts, he'd finally come face to face with Voldemort.

Even then, he hadn't faced the Dark Lord alone. Dumbledore and Snape, both battered and worse for wear, had appeared at his side and done whatever they'd could to help him defeat Voldemort.

And when Voldemort had decided to take out his comrades...

"Fucking shit!" Harry propped his elbows onto the top of the balcony railing and hid his face in his hands. He still couldn't think about that time without shaking. Voldemort had sent two curses out at the same time and Harry had moved to defend...not Dumbledore but Snape. Dumbledore had been hit with some augmented Cruciatus that had nearly killed him. Harry had sent out a counter-course that deflected the one aimed at Snape.

And while Dumbledore, the man he thought of as his mentor, lay screaming, writhing in agony on the ground, Harry had unleashed his full powers as Snape had taught him on Voldemort's weak spot and destroyed the wizard.

And that was the problem. That when push came to shove, he had saved the man whom he'd hated with a passion, rather than the one he'd admired.

Dumbledore had forgiven him when Harry had finally been allowed to visit him in St. Mungo's, but their relationship had never been the same. And the last time he'd seen Snape, exhausted, on his knees in the gore that was all that was left of Tom Riddle, Harry had screamed all sorts of obscenities at the man, telling him that he never wanted to see him again.

And he hadn't. Snape had avoided all the celebrations that he could, avoiding Harry at those he had had no option but to attend. Dumbledore had seemed pleased to tell Harry that all Snape wanted to do was work in his laboratory, and that he found these celebrations a waste of his precious time.

But Harry had needed the celebrations. By the time he'd eliminated Voldemort, he was more killing machine than human. More than a year of being lauded, cheered, toasted had soothed his sense of self. Not to mention being pursued by both females and males.

He stared at a rose bush that was filled with pink and blue blooms. When he thought back on that year, he wondered why Madame Maxime had offered him a position with Beauxbatons? He had been drunk most of the time, had bedded anything on two legs, singly but preferably in a variety of combinations and permutations. Mind, he'd never fucked anyone he really knew. He hadn't wanted to know anything about his sexual partners so that he could walk away the next morning without having to worry about anyone's feelings. Why he'd turned down Neville's frequent offers.

When Madame Maxime had approached him, he'd been able to admit that he was on the road to self-destruction. She'd offered him a way out of that life and he'd been intelligent enough to accept it. It had taken him months to understand that the impetus behind that gesture had not been Dumbledore, but Hagrid. And with that had come the realization that Dumbledore had not really forgiven Harry for putting Snape before him. It had crossed his mind then that Dumbledore was behaving in a rather petty manner. He'd been shocked at the thought and had pushed it out of his mind.

Was that why, when he'd heard that Snape had been arrested and convicted of treason, he'd been more than willing to accept Neville's revelations? That it proved Dumbledore was right again and that Harry could see him once more as he had while a student at Hogwarts?

After the frenzy and blood lust of battle had settled, why had he not gone to see Snape? Or, at least, sought him out at one of those rare events that he'd attended?

Bloody hell, he was alive today because of that man! Because of what Snape had taught him. He'd deserved Harry's thanks at the very least.

So he hadn't been the most approachable of men. Of teachers. But, like his godfather had pointed out, of all of them, Snape had truly known what they had been facing and understood that it would take cold-bloodedness equal to Voldemort's to defeat him.

And he'd given Harry that. And Harry who had never thought himself capable of killing in cold blood hadn't forgiven him for showing him that side of himself.

And for making Harry care for him.

Wasn't that the real reason that he'd saved Snape from Voldemort's curse? Not because the man had trained him, but because he had begun to assume a position in Harry's life that was more than mere teacher?

Had Neville also come to that conclusion? Had he sensed that Snape had become more important to Harry than Neville himself?

Harry went into his study, carefully shutting the door behind him. Mind purposely empty, he went over to the small cabinet, opened it and removed the bottle of brandy and a glass. He watched himself pour a good amount into the glass, watched his hand stopper the bottle.

He sat in the chair by the fireplace and flicked his hand towards it. A fire blazed up. Harry stared at it as he sipped the brandy.

All right. So Snape had meant more to him than he had been ready to accept. Fuck that, it was time to stop hiding from himself. He'd bloody cared for the man.

Juxtaposition? A variation on the Stockholm Syndrome?

Did it matter?

Here, all this time, he'd been berating himself for failing Dumbledore when in fact it had been Snape he'd failed.

One of the things Snape had insisted upon when several of them had gone out to do battle was that no wounded, no dead were to be left behind. Wasn't that what Harry had done? Left a wounded member of his team behind. To what he now knew to be torture.

He should have stayed in contact with the man. He should have spoken up when he'd come back to Britain and discovered he'd been arrested. He should have gone to Azkaban and insisted on seeing him. Hell, he was the Boy Who'd Killed Voldemort: they wouldn't have denied him.

He should have...

He set to work getting seriously drunk.

Sylvester was beginning to think that the visit had been a bad idea.

He could understand about the shirt. Severus probably was uncomfortable with someone other than the household seeing his scars. But on top of that, Severus had spent the day hiding in the house. He had the excuse of doing his scheduled work but Sylvester knew he was still hiding.

Until the evening meal, served on the porch so the visitors could watch the sun set, Severus had managed to avoid all of them.

Except Solfeggio who had kept a worried eye on the silent man.

And now Sylvester was worried.

Severus seemed to have regressed back to the early days. When Sylvester called him in to join them for the meal, he came reluctantly. He stood as though he wanted to make himself invisible or at least fade into the woodwork. His head was slightly bent forward, his eyes on the floor, his arms and hands limp by his sides, his shoulders slightly hunched.

Sylvester knew that Severus and Rus had had some issues in their past, but it seemed that there were some more with the other three men. Damn, he should have thought to ask Rus before they'd arrived if there was anything he should know about Severus's relations with the others.

Now the man sat playing with his food, head bent, silent once more. He'd barely acknowledged the others when they'd come to the table.

The twins had greeted their former teacher with courtesy but gingerly, as though expecting something to happen. Which obviously hadn't as all Severus had done was barely move his head as he had nodded silently in response to their greeting.

Rus had looked a little taken aback, as though he had expected something different as well. Then he'd shrugged and kept on with the conversation about the chances of their going out on the yacht Sylvester kept in the nearby harbour.

Remus Lupin hadn't been able to shrug off whatever it was. Though not as vocal as the twins and Rus, he had been growing more and more silent as the meal progressed, his eyes settling often on Severus. With disapproval. And anger.

After Severus left them, Sylvester promised himself, he was going to find out just what the hell was going on.

And Severus's discomfort grew through the meal. Sylvester finally reached over and placed a hand on his to still its hiding a morsel of chicken in the rice Severus had also not eaten.

"Would you like to be excused, Severus?" He spoke softly, under an exchange between Fred and Rus.

Severus placed his fork by the plate, which Sylvester assumed meant yes.

As he stood up to leave, Lupin snarled out, "To think the others were worried that you might have changed, Snape. But you haven't, have you? Not at all. Still the smug bastard you always were."

"Remy!" Rus was as stunned by the attack as Sylvester was. The twins exchanged glances and went very quiet.

Lupin turned his head slightly towards Rus without taking his eyes off Severus. "A thank you, Rus. Would a mere thank you be too hard for the git to get out? But that would have meant acknowledging Gryffindor help, eh, Snape? And we all know how you feel about Gryffindors, werewolves or not."

Sylvester stood up, his hand on Severus's shoulder. The man was trembling and he knew he had to act quickly to avoid a fiasco.

"Rus. I think it may be a good idea for you and your friends..."

"What do you mean, thank you?"

All eyes went to the man who had spoken.

"What do I mean?" Lupin rose to his feet, eyes glaring. "I mean thank you for putting our bloody necks on the line to save your sorry arse!"

Sylvester shook his head and cursed silently as Rus stood and tugged on his friend. "Remy, shut up."

George took offense to that and also stood, mouth open to defend his lover.

Sylvester held up his hand and his expression dared anyone to continue.

Severus turned to face him. "What does he mean, save my sorry arse?"

When Sylvester shrugged, saying, "I think it would be better if..." Severus interrupted him. "No, please!"

Sylvester had to think. It was the first time ever Severus had interrupted him. And with such intensity. He looked into the man's eyes and knew that unless this was dealt with, there might be repercussions that could cause more damage. With a reluctant sigh, Sylvester gestured to the others to sit down.

Solfeggio, who had appeared at the first harsh tones, cleared the table with a snap of his fingers and stood glaring at Lupin who sat only when Rus said, "Please, Remy."

Sylvester helped Severus sit down and kept a hand on his shoulder. Using the tones he used to calm Severus after a nightmare, he spoke kindly, "Severus, what do you remember before you came here?"

Lupin went to open his mouth and Rus clamped his hand down hard on the man's arm.

Severus chewed on his lip as he thought. "I remember Molly. And orange light. And Black. He brought me here."

"Yes, he did." Sylvester smiled encouragingly at him. "Anything else?"

The panic returned and Sylvester wanted to hit the man responsible for that.

"You mean Before..."

"Yes, Before. Severus, have you ever wondered how you got away from Before?"

The twins squirmed uncomfortably and Sylvester didn't care. Severus was his first concern and too bloody bad if they had finally clued in that Severus was truly not as they had once known him.

Severus slightly shook his head. "Afraid," he finally whispered.

"Afraid? Of what, Severus?"

Nothing from the man, only more of the trembling.

Sylvester spared a look of scorn for Lupin who was watching, eyes still angry, but slowly realizing what he'd caused.

The trembling grew to a shudder. "Back there." Whispered so that Sylvester barely heard.

"You thought if you asked I'd send you back there?" Sylvester winced. Damn it, why hadn't he thought of that? He leaned over and shook his head. "Never, Severus. Severus, look at me." He held Severus's eyes as though by doing so he could make the man believe and accept what he was saying. "I give you my word on that. Nothing you say or do will ever get me angry enough to send you back to that place. And I'll never allow anyone to do that to you either. And not just me. Solfeggio won't let anyone take you there as well. You're here under my roof and under my protection, Severus. For as long as you need. For the rest of your life, if that's what you want."

Solfeggio handed up a small glass with milky contents: Sylvester took it and held it to Severus's mouth. "Here, drink, Severus."

Severus shook his head. "No, please," he begged, "I need to know."

Sylvester thought a moment and then placed the glass with Healing Sleep down on the table. "All right, Severus. But if I say enough, that's the end of it. Understood."

Severus took a deep breath and then nodded.

Sylvester waited until the man had himself under control, until the trembling had lessened then he turned and faced the others. "Understood?"

Four heads nodded.

Severus forced himself to face Lupin.

The man was watching him, with less disapproval and no anger. But still waiting for something.

"You saved me. From that place?"

Lupin nodded. He gestured to the others around the table. "We all did."

Severus frowned, trying to understand. His eyes were drawn to the wrists of his clenched fists. Sylvester's hand appeared, covering up the white bands.

He made himself look up again, to meet the eyes staring at him. "All of you?"

Black nodded as did the twins. Lupin just continued staring at him.

Severus shook his head. "I...I don't...understand. Why would you... You don't even like me. You tried to kill me."

"What!"

Sylvester's voice cut in but Severus kept his eyes on Lupin. Somehow he knew that Lupin would tell him while the others might not. Not with Sylvester glaring at them the way he was. And he needed to know.

"Lupin, you hate me. Why..."

"Severus."

Severus shook his head. "No, please. I'll take the Healing Sleep but please."

Lupin pulled his eyes away from Severus to Sylvester. "I agree."

Then he looked again at Severus and explained. "It all began at Ron and Hermione's wedding."

Sylvester kept his hand on Severus's wrists all the time Lupin spoke. At first, when he realized there was information coming too quickly for Severus to take in, he held up his free hand to pause the narration. After the second time he did so, Lupin began breaking up the story in short, manageable pieces, allowing Severus time to absorb and understand what he was saying. And he waited until Severus nodded or looked up, anything that indicated he'd processed the information, to continue.

When he got to the actual rescue and began describing their arrival at Azkaban, Severus began shaking and Solfeggio plunked a mug of hot, sweet, milky tea on the table. Sylvester had to insist Severus drink some before he would allow Lupin to continue.

Solfeggio used the opportunity to serve tea to the others, all the while glaring at the visitors, muttering about nightmares and good hard work down the drain.

Lupin made it quick. "Rus and I went in, found you and got you out."

Sylvester wanted to growl, `how nice that you finally understand', but didn't: Severus needed all his attention.

"We got you to the Burrow. To Molly. And she took care of you until word got out that you'd escaped and then Rus brought you here."

There was a long spell of silence that even Sylvester found difficult to sit through. Then Severus finally looked up and spoke. But to Sylvester.

"I don't understand."

Sylvester smiled at him, trying to ease the man's obvious confusion. "What don't you understand, Severus?"

"Why... Why would they...?" He moved his head back and forth as though by doing so, something in it would slip into position and he would suddenly understand.

"Why would they rescue you? Is that so hard for you to understand? That someone might want to right an injustice?"

Severus grimaced with concentration. "But they..." He gestured loosely to the twins. "I wasn't their favourite instructor. McGonagall, yes. But me? Never me. And Lupin hates me. And...with reason, I think. I...I hate werewolves. And he nearly killed me. And Black..."

Sylvester winced at the growing panic in Severus's voice. "It's all right, Severus. It's enough. You said you needed to know and now you do. It's enough for now. Now, you're going to go to your room. You'll take the draught Solfeggio prepared for you and we'll discuss this in the morning. Come along, Severus." And he stood up, helping Severus to his feet.

They had taken a few steps from the table when Severus stopped turned to face the men sitting at the table.

"Thank you."

Sylvester stopped by him.

"Thank you, Weasley. Thank you, Weasley. Thank you, Black. Thank you, Lupin."

Spoken without emotion, as if it were an afterthought, something that had to be said before it was forgotten.

And he turned his back on them and went on to his room, Solfeggio at his side.

Sylvester watched them go and waited until he heard the door close to turn back to the men.

"What the bloody hell was so wrong about waiting?" he snarled.

Solfeggio re-appeared, the filled glass in his hand. "Too late," he snapped, glaring at all of them. "He's off."

Sylvester closed his eyes and, cursing, passed a frustrated hand over his head. "All right. Have someone..."

"I'm staying with him," growled Solfeggio. "You deal with these idiots." And he disappeared.

"Sylvester..."

Sylvester glared at his cousin. "I want to know what the hell he meant when he said you'd tried to kill him."

"Sylvester..."

"No, Rus. No excuses. Now."

The twins looked uncomfortable.

Lupin went to stand up.

"No," Sylvester snapped coldly, "you of all people, don't you dare move. Sit down." And was pleased to see the man redden as he followed instructions.

Sylvester went and took his chair. He moved it slightly so that he could see all their faces. Like a judge, waiting to hear a case before passing judgement.

"Sirius, you may begin."

And he listened, face hard and cold, while his cousin explained about the Shrieking Shack incident among others that had involved Severus Snape.

"So, let me see if I have this straight. Because he was following you around, spying on you - according to your version of the situation - you decided to teach him a lesson. And so arranged to have him confront, by surprise, a werewolf who nearly tore him to pieces. An action for which you suffered no consequences other than a couple of detentions with the Headmaster, out of a need to protect the werewolf from expulsion, if not possible imprisonment, for your stupidity."

Rus, Sylvester was pleased to see, fidgeted nervously in his chair. Fred was still watching him with a sort of stunned awareness that had grown as Rus had described in detail what had happened. Sylvester wondered what Rus had previously told his young lover. It was obvious from the boy's reaction that Rus had glossed over many of the details.

Sylvester turned his displeasure onto Lupin. "And in spite of all that, his only natural fear and, yes, even loathing of werewolves after that incident, he still found a way of allowing you, and others of your kind, to retain your humanity during the full moon."

He sat back in his chair. "Yes, well, I would think that both of you did at least owe him something."

George obviously felt he had to say something in support of his lover. "Yeah, well," he muttered, "he chased Remy out of a job at Hogwarts where he should have remained, safe."

Sylvester turned to stare at the younger man. "Lupin had kept secret the fact that the others had learnt how to assume animagus forms. If that had been known, maybe someone might have clued in to the fact that Pettigrew could change into a rat: a rat, if I remember well, that took refuge in the Weasley household."

Fred looked more than uncomfortable but managed to counter with, "He wanted to send Rus back to Azkaban, to a dementor's Kiss."

"Why not?" Sylvester glared at the young man coldly. "Are you saying that he should have assumed that someone who had once set him up for a terrible death was automatically innocent? He had captured an escaped convict, one whom many people still do not believe was guilt free."

"He could have listened to what Harry and the others were telling him," tried George.

Sylvester sat back and looked at each of the four men, one after the other. "Why? Why should he have done that? Even Lupin didn't believe Rus until Pettigrew was made to appear. Why should Severus have done so without any such proof?"

He shook his head. "Well, you've had your revenge for that, Sirius. No one listened to him either when he professed his innocence. And you, Lupin. Tell me, have you ever thanked him for inventing the Wolfsbane? If I had been in his shoes, I wouldn't have bothered, but then I'm not Severus."

"Sylvester," Rus's voice was placating. "Please. He's not an easy person to thank or to ask for forgiveness. Hell, he's... Shit, Sylvester, no matter the reason, he was a bloody bastard at the best of times."

"Is that why no one, not one member of the Hogwarts staff bothered to speak up for him? Why no one came to his defence?"

Fred answered that. "We made some discreet inquiries about that. We couldn't ask too many questions because..." He looked around the table.

"Sylvester," Rus sighed, "look, we've been under suspicion since after I brought Snape here."

Sylvester wasn't impressed. "What do you mean? I thought you'd said you'd covered up your tracks well."

"Well, they think that, at the very least, we know more than what we're saying. Since Dumbledore's visit, we've been having...difficulties. Remy's source of the Wolfsbane has been threatened, subtly, but still threatened."

Sylvester frowned. It didn't take much thought to know what the potion meant to Lupin. And how the threat of its withdrawal might affect his temper. "All right. Tell me."

"Hermione," said George, "got a visit from the Department of Aurors in her lab. It's been suggested that she might find it politically advantageous to her career if, now and then, she forgot to provide Remy with his monthly potion. And when she indicated the immorality of such a move, it was suggested that they would be satisfied if she merely assigned someone else to make the potion. They didn't go any further, but she's been finding it hard to get some supplies these days."

"They, the Aurors," took up Fred, "dropped in unexpectedly at the Burrow. I guess they thought Mum would be easy to handle. She sent them on their way with a few hexes. Pop was livid and he complained to the Minister himself, who's ignored the whole thing."

"We think that either they know we were involved somehow with Snape's escape, or that they're showing us what could happen if we don't keep quiet about the charges having been false," said Rus. "The hue and cry for Snape has all but disappeared, but I doubt that they want it known that a hero of the war was falsely imprisoned and tortured."

"As for people coming out in support of him," Lupin finally spoke up, "we figure whoever organized this whole scenario - and we think it was Malfoy - arranged for the arrest to take place in the summer. It was the summer after the defeat of Voldemort by Harry...with Snape's help...and everyone went away on holiday, celebrating. Snape usually spent the summers in his lab, working on his own experiments. It was the only time he could do so without interruptions."

Lupin rubbed his face tiredly. "By the time the others returned to Hogwarts, Snape had been arrested, tried and found guilty. It was a done deal and, since Dumbledore had accepted it as the truth, it seems they did as well."

"And why did Dumbledore accept it?"

The men shrugged.

"The best we could come up with," said Lupin, "was that he had never truly trusted Snape. That, though Snape was working for the Order of the Phoenix, that his dedication to the cause was always in some doubt and so these `revelations' only proved them right."

"Bloody hell," said Sylvester.

Sylvester closed the door behind him and went quietly up to the bed. Severus was sitting there, his eyes open, unseeing.

In the chair that had been pulled up, Solfeggio was softly snoring.

Sylvester gently eased the man down on the bed, straightening the long limbs so that he lay flat on the bed. He pulled up a blanket onto Severus's shoulders then, after watching several minutes for any sign of change, wished the man a silent good night. When Severus was in that other world of his, that was all Sylvester felt he could do. With a last tuck of the blanket, a final gentle pat on a shoulder, he went and found his own bed.

Breakfast was unnaturally quiet. It was served by a very quiet house elf who looked anything but pleased to be serving them.

Sylvester joined the four men late into the meal. He nodded at them, thanking the elf for his coffee.

"Is Severus not joining us?" Fred dared.

Sylvester hesitated and then placed his cup on the table. "Severus is not with us at the moment."

Rus looked startled. "Where is he? Look, Sylvester, we may have put our feet in it, but that's no reason to spirit him away. We mean him no harm."

Sylvester sat back. "Severus is still here, Rus. He's just not with us. When he gets stressed, his mind goes off somewhere safe." He exaggerated a little for effect, so that they would get the message. "Since last night, he's been sitting on his bed, staring at the scars on his wrists. He does that when he's gone."

There was a sense of discomfort among the four. He had wondered what their reaction would be.

Lupin cleared his throat lightly. "How long will he be like that?"

Sylvester shrugged. "When he first got here, it could go on for days. He hasn't been off this long since...well, it's been a few months."

"Not since the books," muttered Solfeggio, who appeared at Sylvester's elbow. "He's still doing nothing but staring. Should we send for Madame?"

"The books?" Lupin asked warily.

"Madame?" Rus shrugged at the others.

Sylvester ignored them as he thought. "We'll give him until tomorrow morning. If he's not back by then, we'll send for Madame."

"She's going to be bloody pissed," the house elf glared.

Sylvester nodded. "My fault. I thought he was ready for guests."

"He was," grumbled Solfeggio. "Nice ones."

Sylvester cleared his throat sternly and the house elf disappeared. He turned his attention back to the others. "There's been more than a personality change," he informed them, "there's also been a fair amount of brain damage. The books incident occurred when Severus discovered he could barely read. We've been working on that, going back to the basics. His reading ability is improving. We figure he might soon be at a First Year level."

The flash of pain that flicked over Lupin's face pleased him to no end.

"His math skills are better," Sylvester continued. "Well, they were until fractions. He's not having an easy time with those. Mind you, reviewing things like multiplication tables..."

He ignored George's shocked, "Multiplication tables!"

"...have helped his memory."

"What about Magic?" Rus braved.

Sylvester shrugged. "We have no idea. Spells, even easy ones, require concentration and focus. That's only...well, was only beginning to come back."

"Merlin!" whispered Fred, his face revealing his dismay.

"There's a good chance he may never be able to do Magic. And even if some skills do come back, he'll never attain the levels of which he was once capable. In other words, this Malfoy may not have gotten what he wanted from Severus, but he has managed to destroy him."

"Who's Madame?" Rus asked after the silence had grown heavy.

"Madame de Navarre. She's a medi-witch I had brought in, an expert on victims of torture. I've hired her as Severus's physician. He allows her near him, to touch him. First Solfeggio, then her and now me." He stood up.

"And that's something you all need to remember should Severus return to us. He doesn't like being touched. And if you enter a room and he's there, make some noise so you don't take him unaware. I don't want to have to deal with his panic."

"Do you want us to leave?" Rus stood up with him.

Sylvester sighed loudly. "No. No, but I would like more information from all of you. Not just about him, but about the situation back in Britain. You may have been able to rescue him from Azkaban, but I certainly don't want to try rescuing you all from there myself."

Sylvester went into his office and through the usual morning chores. He read the reports from Gringotts and then, thanks to the `magic' of solar panels, flicked on the generator switch, allowing him to connect with his Muggle brokers via computer and satellite.

Ariette, Solfeggio's sister, arrived with his mid-morning coffee and the report that there was no change in Severus.

Sylvester nodded. "Would you please ask Remus Lupin to come see me, Ariette?"

Lupin looked tired. Sylvester wondered if the man had slept at all the previous night.

"I want to apologize to you, sir. I'll do so to Snape once he joins us again, but I also wish to apologize to you. You were kind enough to invite me to your residence and I was rude to a member of your household."

Sylvester sighed. "I take it that this vacation was much needed on all your parts, Lupin. Why don't you fill me in on exactly what's been happening since Severus was brought here."

So Lupin told him about the visit from Dumbledore and the Aurors. About the first visit from an angry Hermione and then the next one from a livid Hermione, about her fears that she might not be able to furnish him, as well as other werewolves, with the Wolfsbane because some of the ingredients were suddenly scarce on the market.

"Most of them are easy enough to find, no matter what the Aurors want. But there are a few of them that are harder to come by. They're imported and can only enter the country with the approval of the Department of Foreign Imports."

He rubbed his face. "If it were only me... But there are at least another dozen werewolves I know personally who benefit from Hermione's work and the threat is to them as well as to myself."

Sylvester made a note to have his agents contact Hermione GrangerWeasley and find out exactly what it was she needed. There were ways around bureaucratic impediments.

Rus also offered his apologies. "I knew Remy was upset about what's been happening, but I guess I never picked up just how deeply all that has been affecting him. And, to be honest, Sylvester, I didn't think about Severus and his reactions. I guess I didn't think about Severus at all. I just wanted us to get away from the situation back home and have a chance to put things into perspective. If you'd have asked me, I would have told you that I thought he'd be back to his old self by now."

"Issues, Rus. You told me that the two of you had had `issues'. Trying to have a classmate killed is more than an issue."

Rus rested his elbows on his knees and stared at his clasped hands. "What can I tell you? I was sixteen and thought I owned the world. Remy and I had just become lovers and I guess I was jealous. Snape seemed to be very interested in him as well, and I... Shit, Sylvester," he looked up, "I was stupid and yes, I nearly got him killed. If James hadn't..." He shook his head. "And you'd think I'd learn, but no, I go on with my arrogance and think I've got the perfect solution for James and Lily's problem with Voldemort and only succeed in getting them killed."

Sylvester got up and went around the desk. He sat in a chair by Rus and took his cousin's hands in his. With the way Rus was acting, once more piling on the guilt he felt about the deaths fo his friends, Madame would have two patients to deal with when she was called.

"Rus. Stop that. Look at me."

He waited until Rus did.

"Who else but you could have worked out a plan to get someone out of the depths of that prison? So, if you look at it in a certain way, this same arrogance of yours is what got Severus out of Azkaban. And you, with whom he's had `issues', were the only ones who cared enough to do so."

Rus swallowed hard. "Molly says that I did it to make up for James and Lily."

Sylvester smiled. "I really have to meet that woman."

Rus found a smile. "You'll love her."

"As much as you love her son?"

Rus cocked his head. "Do you like Fred?"

Sylvester grinned. "When we told Severus that you and Lupin had paired off with the twins, he wasn't surprised that you needed a holiday. He said that they were exhausting at the best of times."

Rus grinned. "I don't think you'll hear either of us complaining."

Sylvester got up. "Yes, I do like your Fred. I've only just met him, but I think he's been good for you. I think your Molly said as much."

Rus turned serious again. "Sylvester, we'll go if you think that's best for Snape."

Sylvester shook his head. "Wait a few days. Enjoy yourselves. I'll have Parlante take you out for the afternoon on the yacht if you'd like."

From Fred and George, who came in to see him together, unasked, Sylvester learnt just what a taskmaster Severus had been in the classroom.

"Mind you," said Fred, "what he shoved inside our brains is still there."

"We've been surprised how often his lessons come into play in the development room," said George.

Fred nodded. "And then there's the stuff he's helped us with."

"Helped you with?" Talking to the twins was like watching a Quidditch match, head swivelling from one to the other as they finished each other's sentences or thoughts.

"Well, in sixth year, we were supposed to present a serious essay..."

"On some stupid topic, which was of no interest to us..."

"So we ignored it and presented a analysis of some of the joke potions we thought we'd use in the store."

"Of course, he flunked us."

"Not because we didn't stay on topic..."

"Because we had, even if it hadn't been the topic he'd wanted..."

"But because we'd gotten ratios wrong..."

"Or some of the ingredients..."

"Or the effects would have been better if only we'd used something different..."

"And he wrote down the ingredients we should have used..."

"And the spells or charms that would improve the joke..."

"And he did the same in seventh year..."

"When we did the same."

"In fact, when you think about it, George, his suggestions must have made up a good 20 percent of all our jokes when we started the store."

"At least."

Sylvester blinked hard and rubbed his eyes. Yes, he could see why Severus had thought them exhausting. "You two must have been something in the classroom."

They grinned at him. "We made him yell most days," Fred said with a certain pride.

"But then," countered George before Sylvester could say anything, "we made him laugh, too. He was careful never to do it in front of the class, but at least once a semester...

"It was a running bet between us which one would get him going," explained Fred.

George grinned happily. "He would leave the classroom to go laugh in the hallway."

"We know that because his lips twitched."

"And he was careful not to meet our eyes when he came back in."

"He did once and he had to leave the room again."

"Not quickly enough. We heard him laughing before the door shut behind him."

"That's why," Fred was suddenly all seriousness, "we went to help him."

"We owed him," said George.

"We figured if what we did made Snape laugh, then anyone else would be rolling on the floor."

"Those products have been our best sellers."

"I thought I might find you here."

Sylvester pulled up one of the chairs nearer to the man sitting on the top step, elbows propped up on his knees, staring out at the lagoon. There was barely any light from the sliver of moon, but it was enough to see the pensive look on the man's face.

"How long was I gone this time?"

Sylvester smiled. "The better part of a day. Nice to have you back."

Severus sighed. "Sorry."

"It's all right, Severus. Just so long as you do come back. Besides, there'd been a lot happening that you had to take in. You just needed some time to deal with it."

Severus kept his eyes on the water. "Solfeggio said that you were going to call Madame."

Sylvester nodded though the man wasn't looking at him. "You know what a relief it was to him that isn't necessary. Frankly, Severus, it's a relief to me as well. You know how she would have reacted."

He could see the edge of a smile on Severus's face. "Detention for all of us."

Sylvester laughed softly. "We just need to remember not to overload you with this kind of information, no more than any other. Ease you into new situations."

Severus didn't respond. Sylvester waited a few moments then leaned over, "Severus, are you all right?"

Severus shrugged. "Yes, I suppose. As right as a lunatic can be."

Sylvester reached out and gently lay his hand on Severus's shoulder. "Not a lunatic, Severus. Never that."

Severus was silent but Sylvester was pleased that there was no physical response, no uncontrolled tremor to the presence of his hand.

"Severus, what's wrong?"

Severus straightened and finally turned to look at Sylvester, who pulled back his hand.

"I don't understand why they did it. They could have been killed. Imprisoned at the very least. It was foolish of them to put their lives at risk for me."

Sylvester leaned forward and took a good look at the eyes. Though the light was not strong, he could make out confusion, concern and a sense of life that somehow, if the light was not fooling him, was new.

"Perhaps," he offered, "they felt they owed you something."

Severus shook his head. "They hate me," he stated, unemotionally.

Sylvester sat back. "No, I think you're wrong about that. True, they're not comfortable with you. Hell, Severus, you irritate them. You have `issues' with each other. But I don't accept that they actually hate you. More puzzled than anything else, I think."

Severus leaned his head back against the support post and grimaced.

They listened silently to the sound of the water rolling softly onto the beach.

Sylvester felt a sudden warmth inside. Maybe this visit and its confrontation wouldn't be a disaster after all. There was more than a difference in Severus's eyes: his voice was less hesitant, more confident. And he seemed more ready to talk than he had since arriving. Had some barrier been broken down?

"I can tell you that the twins don't hate you. In fact, they feel you were quite of some help to them in their plans for Wheezies."

Severus had to think about that.

Sylvester leaned forward. "You can't tell me that you didn't support their plans, Severus. From what I've heard about you, you weren't the kind to go out of his way to add ingredients to joke potions, or make suggestions to improve them unless you approved. They are grateful to you."

Severus slowly shook his head. "They were terrors in the classroom."

"Terrors? Like Longbottom was a terror?"

Severus snorted. "Longbottom didn't have the intelligence to be anything other than a major disaster waiting to happen. The twins were..."

He grinned up at Sylvester, the first such expression Sylvester had seen from him. "The twins were the only ones in twenty years of teaching who ever made difficult for me to keep a straight face in the classroom."

Sylvester grinned back. "They told me they had a running bet about that. Once a semester."

"I'm sure they always won."

They sat quietly again. Sylvester loved this time of night, when the stars were so brilliant in the sky and there were gentle breezes coming off the lagoon. He looked at Severus, who was once more staring out over the water, and wondered if this state of communication was going to last. He hated to put some pressure on it, but there were issues to clear up.

"Lupin went along with the rescue because he felt he owed you for the Wolfsbane."

Severus stiffened. He looked at Sylvester for a moment then back out over the water.

"Severus. Why did you create the Wolfsbane? Because Lupin was the reason for it, wasn't he? Even though he nearly killed you."

He didn't think Severus was going to answer. It might have been too much for him, thought Sylvester, sorry now that he'd pushed.

"When I decided to try..."

"Yes?" Sylvester encouraged gently.

"There had been other attempts at a potion, you know." Severus looked partially in Sylvester's direction. "I didn't pull the Wolfsbane out of a hat."

"I'm sure. But you are the one who made it work, Severus."

Severus shrugged then continued, "Once, in third year, when we were all students... It was a Hogsmeade weekend and we were in the Three Broomsticks, making ourselves ill on butterbeer..."

Sylvester waited: he wasn't going to push again, he told himself, not tonight. Severus would tell this story at his own speed, in his own time. Sylvester was simply delighted that the man was actually talking.

"We were standing in line and someone made a comment about werewolves...I can't remember what it was...and he turned. I saw his eyes. Not long. Just long enough to see the hurt. Deep hurt. I didn't understand why at the time."

For a few minutes all that was heard was the soft lapping of the water on the sand. Sylvester wanted Severus to continue but restrained himself from pushing. All in Severus's good time, he reminded himself, several times.

His patience paid off.

"When we were all in Dumbledore's office, after...after the Incident...I saw the same hurt in his eyes when he looked at me."

Severus shrugged. "He hadn't known what Black was up to and he was horrified...not at being found out...it took me a few weeks to figure that out...but by the fact that he had nearly killed someone. Even if it was me."

He looked over to Sylvester. "He tried to apologize to me a couple of times. I brushed him off."

"So the Wolfsbane was a way of accepting his apology."

Severus shrugged and went back to his perusal of the night sky.

Sylvester decided to push after all. "And a way of making up for those other potions you had created for Voldemort."

And for far too long a moment, he thought that he'd pushed too hard. Severus stilled and barely breathed. Then he swallowed hard and once more met Sylvester's eyes.

"You know about that."

Sylvester kept his expression and voice neutral as he nodded. "You weren't entirely unknown to me when Rus brought you here, Severus. I have kept in touch with happenings and events back in Britain. Some of my correspondents are highly placed."

Severus looked down at his hands now clasped on his lap and began chewing on his lip.

Sylvester reached out and once more placed his hand on Severus's shoulder. "If I had any reason to believe that you might have even had a thought of being a traitor to our side, Severus, you wouldn't be here. Others may have wondered about your fidelity, but I haven't the slightest worry about that."

Severus chewed on his lip a while longer then stopped. "I gave my word to them. I...I never gave it to Voldemort."

"Yes. I understand. And once given, you stand true to it."

Severus looked up. His eyes were suddenly bright. "Thank you," he whispered.

Sylvester gripped the boney shoulder hard and then released it. He sat back and allowed Severus time.

Somewhere out on the lagoon, a fish plopped out and back into the water. Sylvester wondered if the grouper was out of his hole, feeding. He waited several minutes, until Severus's breathing was less rough, then dared, "Rus gave me his version of what happened that day at the Shrieking Shack. But I'd like to know yours. Why were you following them, Severus? Can you tell me that?"

The silence this time went on far too long. Sylvester mentally kicked himself. It seemed that Rus wasn't the only Black who hadn't learnt to push past limits. He was wondering how to end this deafening silence when Severus moved. He pulled his knees up to his chest and hugged his legs to him. Then he dropped his chin onto his knees.

"It's complicated."

Sylvester allowed a hint of amusement - not the relief he felt - to colour his response. "I wouldn't expect otherwise, Severus." Then he added, in more understanding tones, "Would you prefer to keep this for another day, lad?"

Severus shook his head. "No. And don't worry. I'm not going to...wander off."

Sylvester had the feeling that Severus would not be wandering off much from now on. Somehow, the confrontation with Lupin had settled something within the man. He'd gone away but he'd come back, stronger and better able to handle things. Whether this was an illusion on his part, Sylvester mentally shrugged, they would soon find out.

"My father was...probably still is, now that I think of it, a bureaucrat. With the diplomatic service. He's following family tradition in that. A couple of decades off representing civilization in foreign parts and then home for a slow rise up the policy ladder.

"The only thing he ever did that was unscripted was marry my mother. She was Italian. His family was stunned when he came back with her. They never accepted her. She wasn't what they had planned for him. But after that, he fell into line. Even if she wouldn't."

Severus hugged himself more tightly, rocking slightly. Sylvester settled back in his chair. This Severus was new to him. He didn't want to do anything to scare him away.

"She loved me, you know."

Sylvester noted the challenge in that statement. "Yes," he answered softly, "I'm certain she did. Parents usually find their children very loveable."

Severus shook his head slightly. "No, they don't. But she loved me," this time with a sense of nostalgia and loss. "I think she's the only one who ever truly loved me in my life."

He shook his head as if dislodging an image. "She died the year I was eight. There was an explosion in her lab... She was still working, which was something Snape wives didn't do. She was a Potions Master for...for...I can't remember. Some medical company."

"I'm sorry, Severus."

Severus managed a shrug. "It was a long time ago."

He chewed on his lower lip before continuing. "My grandmother moved in with us, my father and I, to take care of the household. My father's mother. She was a Snape married to a Snape. She hated me. I didn't look like a Snape. Snapes were pale in complexion. I was...too sallow. Too foreign looking." He stopped. "She tried to beat it out of me."

"What did your father do?"

"Do? He didn't do anything. He left early for his office and got home late. I rarely saw him. The only thing he did do was refuse to have Mamma's books destroyed. Grandmother thought them too foreign to have anything decent in them. Besides, in her will, Mamma had left them all to me."

Sylvester wondered, "So what did your grandmother do with them?"

Severus made a small sound that could have been a scoff. "She reduced them all and stored them in a small case that she had someone throw into the lake that abutted the Snape Estate. That way there were still on the property but nobody...well, I...I couldn't get to them. Grandmother was terrified of water. She thought everyone who was a Snape should be. Mamma had humoured my father on that. She'd always thought that she'd teach me to swim when we'd go visit her family. We were going to do that the summer she died.

"But I saw where the case landed and I taught myself to swim and dive...at night, when Grandmother was sound asleep." There was a slight paused then Severus cocked his head. "Strangely enough the house elves never betrayed my secret. I think they had liked Mamma more than they liked Grandmother. And since she never thought of asking them directly, they didn't have to tell her.

"I finally found the case and hid it in my room. I remembered parts of the spell she'd used to shrink the books and it took a year before I found it, rummaging at night in my father's library. The counter spell was right under it."

"Didn't you need a wand for it to work?"

Severus nodded. "I had to wait until I was ten, but the spring before I was to start at Hogwarts, she was needed elsewhere and I had enough knowledge to counterspell the books, one at a time."

"Let me guess: by the time you began at Hogwarts, you were fairly proficient."

Severus looked up at Sylvester, his eyes alive. "The biggest problem I had with the professors was hiding what I knew. At least that first year. After that...well, I was the son of Lucrezia Barolo-Snape and the Potions instructor, Professor Blender, who as a student had spent a semester working in her lab, expected me to have more than average abilities."

"You liked school."

"I was freed from Grandmother. I loved it. All the more because I had been sorted into Slytherin. Snapes were never sorted into Slytherin. Ravenclaw, yes. Even Gryffindor. There was even some cousin who was a Hufflepuff, but then his last name wasn't Snape so it was acceptable." He was lost in the past. "Of course, Grandmother was not pleased. She sent a Howler to the Headmaster." Severus suddenly smiled. "He sent one back to her."

"Did you have friends?"

Severus nodded. "Yes. They weren't sure about me at first. I didn't have much experience with other children. Grandmother was certain that my foreignness was contagious and she wouldn't allow me to contaminate other children. But the Slytherins liked my snarkiness."

He grinned, remembering. "They enjoyed the fact that I always had a ready comeback. I had learnt early on not to answer my grandmother back. Not aloud. But I had thought my responses and at Hogwarts, there was no one to slap or beat me for what I thought. Or said."

He shrugged. "They...my house-mates...roared when I cut someone from another House. And thought me brave when I dared respond to a professor that way. Even if it was under my breath and only a few of them actually heard. And when Lucius Malfoy announced that I had as sharp a tongue as his, well..."

He thought a bit. "I liked being popular with my House. And the fact that the other Houses were uncomfortable around me, well, that was a bonus. And with the professors, I liked getting away with certain things because of my intelligence and cleverness."

A terror in the classroom, thought Sylvester. "In other words, the twins were poetic justice."

Severus cocked his head. "I hadn't thought of it that way, but...yes, they probably were."

"What happened, Severus?"

Severus shrugged. "The summer after fifth year, my father suddenly paid attention to me. He informed me that I was to drop Potions as the course was of no value in a ministerial position. That I was to concentrate on courses that would be. We...we had words. In true Snape fashion, he tried to re-enforce those words with his fists. Except that I wasn't a child...I was as tall as he was...and he wasn't Grandmother. I...defended myself."

There was a pause while Severus remembered.

"The upshot was that unless I did as I was told, I would be on my own, without a penny, after graduation."

He sighed and rested the side of his head on his knees. "I wasn't the only one who had discovered a few things about my family that summer. Many of my friends...Rosier, Wilkes, Lestrange, Avery and, of course, Malfoy and his special hangers-on, Crabbe and Goyle...they had been introduced to someone who was very interested in the Dark Arts. Slytherins, you know, have always been drawn to the Dark Arts.

"Their parents had begun attending special meetings, secretive meetings, and they had been told that they were finally of an age to begin participating. It was all very secret and hush-hush, very mustn't-let-theprofessors -know. Which was part of its appeal. Malfoy was the one who told me about it. `With your skills in Potions, you're a natural for membership, Snape.'"

Sylvester assumed the voice Severus had used was a close approximation to this Lucius Malfoy's. After that, Severus's was thoughtful, as though he were for the first time talking or even thinking about this part of his past.

"The main topics of discussion among them that semester were Voldemort, the Dark Arts and why they shouldn't be kept from us...and what was so wrong with Power? So, when that Solstice I was invited to Malfoy Manor, I went to meet the charismatic Lord Voldemort."

"What did you think about him?"

Severus made a small disdainful snort. "That he was more arrogant than any Malfoy. And far more intelligent. That he read his audience well. He understood their need for thinking themselves better than anyone else and told them what they wanted to hear."

Sylvester kept his voice lightly curious. "Is that what he did with you?"

Severus held himself more tightly. "No. I think he could see that I thought them all rather foolish. After the second day, he began looking over at me to see if I was watching as he led some...some..." He had trouble finding the word he wanted to use. "...some sy...sycophant to gush all over him. Then he would smile, as though this was a private joke between the two of us.

"Later, he and I went for a walk and he talked about Potions. He was knowledgeable and he was stimulating."

"Let me guess: he didn't do anything else."

"No. Just talked Potions. All kinds of Potions. He'd read my mother's publications. I hadn't known she'd published." Some of the anger he felt at having been denied that information slipped into his voice. "In Italian journals."

Sylvester silently cursed the family that had ignored the boy's loss of his mother.

Severus sighed. "We went back to school and suddenly these books began appearing in my rooms. He sent them through Lucius." His smile was selfmocking. "He was courting Malfoy money at the same time. A few special books on the Dark Arts for Lucius, a very special book of Potions for me. Once, a bound copy of my mother's publications."

"Surely you knew what he was doing, Severus?"

Severus nodded. "Then there was the Incident at the Shrieking Shack."

Sylvester groaned as he shook his head. "Great timing." Family disapproval, Voldemort's encouragement and Dumbledore sticking up for his Gryffindors, no matter the legitimacy of the reason. Poor Severus!

Severus frowned. "Towards the end of that year, I received a letter from my father. He had made arrangements for me to spend the summer as an aide to some ministerial bore who was on a trade mission to...I don't remember. He reminded me that I had one year left of his legal responsibilities to me."

"So?" Sylvester waited for it, never for a moment thinking that Severus had given in to his father's demand.

"So I spent the summer with the Malfoys, playing in a lab they had set up at Voldemort's recommendation. All the ingredients I wanted. No restrictions. I went back to Hogwarts at the end of the holidays and an interview with the Headmaster. My father had paid for my final year and sent what he indicated was the last money I would ever see from him. He had enclosed my allowance for the year. He'd written to Dumbledore that if I cared to assume my proper place in the world, I should come beg his pardon at Solstice."

"And you...?"

"Spent those holidays in the lab at Malfoy Manor. I was given my Dark Mark after leaving school."

"So why were you following Rus and the others around?"

Severus sighed. "The Marauders. The golden Gryffindors. The Headmaster's special pets. I'm not really certain." He plopped his chin on his knees and stared out over the water. "I think...I think I wanted them to corner me somewhere and beat what was going on out of me."

Sylvester blinked. "You wanted them to save you from yourself?" He couldn't prevent some of his surprise from slipping out.

Severus rocked slightly back and forth. "Yes, I think so." Whispered.

He sighed again and slowly released the grip he had on his legs. "But Slytherins and Gryffindors were not friends and I shouldn't have been surprised that they didn't understand what I myself didn't understand."

"It might have been asking a bit more of them than they had the intelligence to puzzle together," Sylvester offered.

"Maybe Peter. But I thought James...or Remus..."

"Not Rus?"

Severus stretched his legs out and winced as the blood circulated properly. "He was too horny."

Sylvester swallowed his smile: according to the rare family news he'd gotten, Rus had always been too horny from the moment puberty had hit. "He thought you had designs on Remus."

He was surprised that Severus had to think about it before shrugging. "I don't think so, but frankly, everyone had designs on Remus. And he was too wrapped up in Sirius to see any of that."

Ariette suddenly appeared with a tray. The scent of coffee filled the space between them.

"Sorry we've kept you from your bed, Ariette," said Sylvester, gratefully accepting a mug from the house elf.

"Is almost dawn."

Sylvester was astonished to see that she was right. There was a long line of violet along the horizon and the stars seemed less bright. The night was no longer silent as realized that there were sounds coming from the trees. The morning breeze blew off the water.

She shook her head as if discouraged by their behaviour. "You is the ones who is keeping each other from bed."

Severus sipped the coffee, his eyes on the paling horizon.

"The problem with the three of you," offered Sylvester, after some thought, "is that you are all survivors. Remy has learnt to survive his lycanthropy: Rus, his role in the destruction of his friends, his stay in Azkaban. And you, you've survived a wrong decision as a child, a couple of decades as a double agent and the ultimate betrayal. It means you are all hardheaded. Stubborn. Determined. And in spite of two of you being Gryffindors and another Slytherin, you are all too much alike not to butt heads."

Severus shook his head. "If our positions had been different, I don't think I would have risked my life for Sirius Black or for Remus Lupin."

Sylvester agreed. "Not the way they did. But still you risked it time and again for Harry Potter and Harry is very important to Rus. Not just because Harry is Rus's godchild, but also because he's the son of James and Lily, both of whom Rus loved dearly. And you did find a way of giving a kind of life to Remus during the full moon, Severus."

In the slowly gathering light, Sylvester could see exhaustion in the deep lines engraved on Severus's face. And a kind of peacefulness.

"Sylvester?"

"Yes."

"What's going to happen?"

"Off hand I'd say that you and Remy and Rus...and the twins...will probably spend the next few days clearing the air. You may not become friends, but you will probably understand each other better."

Severus cocked his head. "Maybe." He stared into his mug. "What I meant was what's going to happen to me?" Then he turned to face Sylvester. "What are you going to do with me?"

Sylvester's eyebrow rose high. "Do with you?" He shook his head. "Nothing very different than what I've been doing up till now. Keep you from overtiring yourself from trying too hard."

"I...I'm staying here, with you, then?" Severus had tried hard to keep his voice even, but Sylvester noted the wobble in it.

He nodded. "I told you that at supper. I guess you don't remember."

Severus shook his head. Then, "Why?"

"Why?"

"Why are you letting me stay?"

Sylvester slipped off the chair to crouch by the man watching him, so they could speak eye to eye. "Because I find that I like you, Severus Snape. I like having you around. I like watching you come to terms with the man you now are. And, quite frankly, lad, I'd like to see what you grow up to be."

The initial stunned look on Severus's face was gradually replaced by a shy, tired smile. "You see yourself as...a parental-figure?"

Sylvester grinned. "Lad. How old do you think I am?"

Severus chewed his lip a moment before answering. "Not old enough to call me lad."

Sylvester allowed his grin to take over all of his face. "Child, I'll celebrate my one hundred twenty-third birthday in May. What are you, a mere fortyeight ? A child, Severus. Only a child."

And felt especially honoured when Severus closed his eyes, threw back his head and actually laughed.

Still, that day was more of a step back. Severus still hid from their guests. He remained in his room, supposedly napping, until Sylvester and the others went off to the local village and then returned to swim in the lagoon.

Sylvester looked up from the beach to see Severus in a shadowy corner of the porch, head bent over his books, working at the table. He said nothing. Maybe last night's break-through was only for him. Maybe it would never again be repeated. He sighed and decided to allow Severus some space. There'd been enough pushing in their talk: the man probably needed time to process again.

So he didn't immediately notice when Lupin left the group.

He only noticed when Lupin was seated next to Severus at the table. As he went to find his feet, Rus reached out and grabbed his hand. "It's about numbers. Remy is brilliant at explaining numbers. He's even got me to understand the store's bookkeeping. Let him try to explain fractions to Snape."

Sylvester sat back down, but kept an eye on the two men.

Severus, at first, was very stiff. His eyes were firmly planted on his books. Lupin's body language was calm, unthreatening. He spoke softly and so couldn't be heard from the beach.

He pointed something out to Severus, picked up a pencil and jotted on a paper. Severus was noticeably listening. His head cocked towards Lupin though his eyes on the paper.

Sylvester looked up every now and then, just to see that Severus wasn't growing anxious. So he happened to be watching the moment the barrier dissolved. Severus's head snapped up, his eyes met Lupin's and he grabbed the pencil back, writing furiously on the paper.

Lupin grinned and then laughed aloud. Severus stopped, looked up, and Sylvester saw one of those smiles, less certain, shy, but still there, appear on Severus's face before he went back to work.

By the time they all joined the two for lunch, the table was littered with papers covered in Severus's scrawl.

Still, the meal was silent, at least on Severus's part. He didn't contribute Sylvester noted that he often bit his lower lip to hold back his smiles as the twins entertained with stories of their failures and successes, of their experimenting with their potions on unsuspecting Hogwarts school-mates.

Sylvester shook his head. "As I said to Severus just this morning, you two were poetic justice on him."

"Oh?" said Fred, exchanging a surprised look with Rus.

Remy suddenly began laughing. "You know, Sylvester, I think you may be right."

"Somehow," said George, "I can't see Professor Snape..."

"Severus," interrupted the man, not quite meeting George's eyes.

George paused, a slow, pleased smile lightening up his face before he nodded his head. "I can't see Severus being the class clown."

"No," agreed Remy, "but he certainly made a few of our professors sweat with some of his questions. And his abilities. And he did have a certain evil sense of humour. For example..."

"Yes?" Both twins spoke at the same time, eyes gleaming with curiosity. Rus looked over at Remy, eyes questioning.

"Well, we weren't supposed to have had any training before we arrived, but Severus here knew more than his fair share. We were in Transfiguration and...Severus, what was the name of the Ravenclaw who thought he was so superior to all of us because his father was on the Board of Governors?"

"Seascarp."

"Yes, that's him."

Rus groaned loudly. "Bloody hell, I'd forgotten about him."

Remy grinned at the table. "Well, Seascarp was always riling us as `inferior' because his skills were so `superior'. We had been classed into some mixed group, all four Houses together. I think they were trying to make the Houses more friendly one towards the other...some stupid social educational experiment that didn't work. They didn't bother repeating it after that first semester."

"Get to it, Remy," groaned George.

Sylvester watched Severus's face as he pretended to be very involved with cornering a recalcitrant grape in his bowl.

"Well, every time Seascrap successfully transfigured his hedgehog into a pincushion, it mysteriously transfigured back. McGonagall was not amused." He did an imitation of her. "Mister Seascrap, surely, for all your vaunted abilities, your spell should have some lasting power. Can you not find a modicum of stability so that the poor hedgehog will not be driven dizzy?"

Remy grinned at Severus. "It took us a bit of time to realize just why the hedgehog was not remaining in its transfigured form. A certain student was returning it as soon as it had been successfully changed. Drove Seascrap to distraction."

"He was an arsehole," muttered Severus, having finally spooned the grape.

The twins gasped dramatically, holding their hands to their chests. "Professor Snape! Why, if we would have done something like that in your classroom..."

Severus glanced up. "You did. Several times."

The twins ignored him. "...we would have gotten a month's worth of detention."

"Broke your nose, didn't he, when Seascrap found out?" Rus ruminated.

Severus only gave a small shrug.

"And I seem to remember McGonagall lecturing us all on the innate cruelty of see-sawing transfigurations. Did she ever catch you at it?"

Severus sat back, finally looking at the people watching him with varying levels of glee. "She never did, but she knew. The next time she caught me breaking a rule, I was assigned the special privilege of polishing all the school plaques by hand..."

The twins moaned sympathetically.

"...for a month with Filch. Who spent the time supervising me bemoaning the fact that he wasn't allowed to use the manacles in his office for mal...mal...malfeasants like myself who thought themselves so smart."

The twins nodded knowingly. "We heard that once or twice in our time."

Severus looked over to them. "Only once or twice? A week? Each?"

And smiled when everyone laughed at the twins' rueful shrugs.

By mid-afternoon, Severus was comfortable enough to join them for a swim.

For the first time since the arrival of the visitors, he slipped off the shirt he'd been wearing along with the sarong and slowly walked into the water, finally plunging in and heading for the grouper who had seemed to be avoiding the newcomers by refusing to come out of his protective hole in the rocks.

Sylvester was about to comment on the fact when he realized that Rus was staring, white-faced, at the man who had been successful in calling the fish out.

"Rus?"

Rus looked at him, horror filling his eyes.

"Rus, what is it?" Sylvester went to stand by his cousin, wondering what the hell was wrong.

"It's a pattern." Whispered.

"Pat... Oh, yes, the scars on Severus. Yes, they do form a pattern."

"Bloody hell!"

"Hadn't you seen them before, Rus? After all, you're the one who brought him here."

Rus staggered out of the water and, stooping, picked up his sarong to wipe his face.

"Rus?"

"He was barely alive." His words were muffled by the material. "Molly took care of him. When I got to see him, he was wearing a nightshirt. Molly...she never said anything."

Sylvester glanced over to Severus who was introducing one of the twins to the grouper. "Does anyone know where Draco Malfoy is?"

Rus looked up then shook his head. "No. It seems he's disappeared from Malfoy Manor. Some time after Dumbledore's visit to us. He could be anywhere. The Malfoys had connections all over the world. Lucius preached insular, but he didn't practice it. I don't doubt that Draco is off somewhere, rebuilding the family fortunes."

"Any ideas on whom the Auror might be who did that to him?"

Rus shook his head. "But if I ever find out..."

Sylvester turned to glare at his cousin. "If you ever do," he snapped coldly, "you will tell me. You will not deal with it." Then he gentled his voice as he placed his hand on Rus's shoulder. "Lad. You spent twelve years in Azkaban. That was enough. If you ever have an idea, ever hear a rumour, you let me know. I promise you it'll be dealt with. What was done to Severus is one thing. How it was done is quite another. Madame de Navarre was sickened by what she saw and she's seen more than her share."

He shook his cousin slightly. "Rus, promise me. You have a life now with a lover who is just what you needed. You must not compromise yourself. Or Fred. Nor Remy and George. As is, you have enough trouble with the fact that those in authority know that you and the others are aware of the truth. Don't give them any reason to make your lives more difficult. Promise me, Rus, that you will not actively seek out information. That if any falls into your hands, you will not do anything about it but pass it on to me." His voice turned insistent. "Promise me, Rus."

Rus closed his eyes and then slowly - to Sylvester's great relief - nodded. "All right, I promise." He opened his eyes and met Sylvester's. "I hated him. He was right about that. But, bloody hell, Sylvester, a pattern!"

Sylvester took his cousin into his arms. "The man you hated doesn't exist anymore, Rus. Madame thinks he never again will. You took a chance to give Severus back his life. Try and give this new Severus a chance, too. He may never be what he was, but he's still worth knowing. And in need of friends."

Part Four

| Harry Potter Index | Fiction Index | Main Page |