Fic: Shadows of Light, Snape/Sirius (2/9)
Title: Shadows of Light
Rating: 18 (adult only)
Pairing: Snape/Sirius
Genre: Romance/Drama
Warning: Slash, Violence
Summary: Sometimes that which we look for is in the strangest of places, and those that we know are not how they seem. With the war between the Light and Dark drawing near, anything is possible.
Total Length: 45,000+ words
Status: Complete
A/N: Written pre-HBP and DH, ignores the character death of OotP.
: Part One:
Part Two
It was several hours later that he came out of the office and walked straight into his Godson, sending them both to the floor, much to the amusement of Hermione and Ron, even Harry was laughing from his position beneath Sirius’ chest. Sirius lay there a moment longer pulling his thoughts together.
“Er Sirius, could you let me up, you’re squashing me?” Harry’s voice, full of laughter, snapped him from his daze and he grinned mischievously before raising his hands and tickling him. When he stopped, they were both panting and grinning madly and he helped Harry to his feet both turning to face an equally grinning Ron and an almost disapproving Hermione, but her eyes were grinning.
They were almost at Sirius’s guest rooms when Harry finally spoke, his words sending Sirius back to the long conversation with Dumbledore after Severus had left. Severus? When had he started thinking of him as Severus?
“So did Dumbledore tell you who got you pardoned?” He paused only a minute before answering.
“Yes.” They were at the portrait now, and Hermione told him the temporary password.
When they were all comfortably seated in the chairs the children had conjured, Harry asked the expected question.
“So who was it then? I mean if none of the Order knew and they managed to convince the whole ministry that their favourite criminal was innocent, they must have tonnes of power. So, who was it? Do we know them? Are they famous?” He paused for a moment, utter disgust and worry crossing his features. “It was Malfoy wasn’t it, ‘cause he’d do it just so that you were in his debt and that would mean you were in Voldemort’s debt too. Oh stop wincing Ron. Really.”
And Sirius laughed.
The thought of Lucius Malfoy still having enough sway with the Ministry to get him released was funny enough, but the way Harry had spoken, he’d sounded so like Hermione it was too much. He stopped at the confused faces in front of him.
“Seriously, do you really think Malfoy has that power anymore? No it wasn’t him, but I’m sure that this particular wizard would rather enjoy it if he thought I was in his debt.” But then Snape had wanted to stay anonymous, so he obviously didn’t think Black owed him. Even after Albus had explained everything, as he knew it, it still didn’t make sense to him. Why would Snape do it, but never use it as a hold over him. It was what he expected. It seemed to him, that there was a lot more to the Potions Master that he had yet to understand.
Hermione surprised him then, although on reflection he supposed if anyone were to guess it would be her. She really was smart, just like him and again he found his mind drifting back to the spying Death Eater.
“It was Professor Snape wasn’t it.” It wasn’t really a question, and the boys’ laughter stopped instantly when they realised that he wasn’t laughing too.
“Yes.” Hermione stared at him, a triumphant smirk on her face at having guessed correctly, Ron just stared in distant horror as his image of the Greasy Git suffered an irreversible blow. But Harry stuttered in very much the same way as he had upon finding out, and it caused the corners of Sirius’s lips to curl into a smile again.
“But he hates you.” Was Harry’s first discernable sentence.
“Yes that’s what I said. But Professor Dumbledore asked him to do it and he did.”
He wasn’t going to say anymore until he’d spoken to the Slytherin in person, but Ron was giving him an incredulous glare and he could almost see Harry’s mind concocting all sorts of explanations that all contained Snape in the role of villain, and saving Sirius for his own evil purposes, but after doing the same himself and expressing his concerns to the Headmaster, he was now more sure than he had ever been about anything, that Snape wasn’t like that and he needed to clear that up once and for all.
“He didn’t do it for his own selfish reasons, in fact from what the headmaster said, it was one of the most selfless things he has ever done. And after hearing the story, I’d have to agree with him. But I don’t think I’ll tell you three. You’d never believe me.” His eyes twinkled, not unlike the Headmasters, and he laughed inwardly at the exasperated expressions on the three faces before him.
“Please tell us.” “That’s not fair.” And “I wanna know what could persuade the Great Bat to help anyone.” Flew at him all at once, and with a false sigh of resignation he made himself even more comfortable in the chair and began telling them what Albus had told him, right from the beginning, none of them hearing the portrait open or noticing the black form that leaned cautiously in the corner.
“I guess I should start from the beginning otherwise it won’t make much sense.
Theodire Snape was Snape’s Great Grandfather; he was also the Minister for Magic during the war with Grindlewald. At that time, the ministry was fair, it wasn’t completely free of bias, but they did show their support for both the opposition of him and their support for Dumbledore. Unfortunately, his sons were not. Well one of them, Zacarus Snape, Snape’s Great Uncle, decided that he had stood in his father’s shadow too long and when the final war came, he was there, lying right beside Grindlewald when he fell.
It was the other son that killed Zacarus, in self-defence because after the dark wizard had fallen, he went mad and started firing curses at his father and brother, even at Dumbledore. In the end, the family fell apart. Theodire Snape’s wife broke away from her husband and went off with, if you can believe it, a Black, though not anyone closely related to me, a very very distant Great Cousin I believe.
Anyway, with his wife gone, and his son slowly going mad from the guilt of killing his brother, Theodire resigned his position and moved away with his remaining son and his family, that would be Snape’s father and Grandmother. They weren’t heard of for quite some time, until Venos, that’s the brother, died. Theodire moved back to England straight away, bringing with him Snape’s father, but Venos’s widow stayed in Italy where they had been living. Being around Dumbledore’s age and having seen much the same as he had, he knew that his only chance to ensure that his family would be comfortable would be to infiltrate his way into the aristocratic pure-blooded families.
I don’t know, but I think that the years watching his remaining son go mad and constantly being reminded of the betrayal of his other son, caused the former Minister to go mad himself. He definitely went evil. He had contacts everywhere in the Ministry. Some were from his days as Minister, but most were contacts that even the Malfoys won’t go near. He made his money, but it cost him a lot as well. By the time of his death, he and the rest of his family were unbelievably wealthy, but were so woven into the Dark Arts that many were scared of them and the rest somehow owed him life debts.
He lived until just after Snape’s birth and even after he was gone, the fear and power surrounding his family never left. Neither did the money. When the first war against Voldemort happened, the Snapes were right up there with him, apparently they financed quite a lot of his effort, much more than the Malfoys, though it didn’t make so much as a dent in their savings. I don’t know what happened to Snape, Albus said that was Snape’s own story to tell, but I do know that he disowned his family at some point, he left the money and power behind, but both his parents died before the end of the first war, and so he inherited it all. And it was that power over the Ministry that meant that he had the sway to get me out. But Dumbledore said that he still hates what his family stood for, which is why he doesn’t live in any of the Snape estates across the country.”
In fact, Albus had said that Snape hadn’t ever used his power over the Ministry for anything, not even to avoid Azkaban when he was caught, not wanting to have to acknowledge his background in any way, but he had used it for him. The one person that had made his life a misery for years, the person who had suspected his every move, and publicly questioned his loyalties.
He just wasn’t sure that even a request from Albus would have made him do for Snape what Snape had done for him.
They sat quietly for a few minutes, Sirius wondering at the guilt he felt for the past, and the intense need to find something that would be sufficient as a thank you; somehow he doubted that a few flowers and a card were going to do it, Harry, Ron and Hermione stared at him in silent amazement, fading disbelief and new found respect for their professor respectively.
It was Ron who spoke first, trying to get his mind around this new concept he was getting of Snape. Not truly understanding why the hated Professor would do anything to help Sirius, especially to use the contacts of the family he so obviously despised. And asking the first of many questions that came to him.
“So Snape is as rich as the Malfoys?”
They all jumped about two foot in the air when the black figure in the corner moved from the dark, to stand in the shadows and answered the question himself.
“Actually, Lucius lives on the Snape estate in Suffolk.” Seeing their shocked and confused faces, he did something he would never have done had he not heard all that was said before. Had Black been defending him instead of putting him right there with the rest of his dark family?
“Lucius built and paid for the mansion but the grounds belonged to my father.” No one failed to notice that he never said they belonged to him, even though as the last Snape they did. It was becoming clear just how much he wanted to be kept separate from his family.
Harry was the first to move. He stood to face his Professor, an indefinable expression on his face. “Is it true sir, what Sirius said? Did you go to the ministry and prove his innocence?” His voice was firm; he knew how to face the sneering man before him.
“Yes, I went to the ministry. It was little trouble really, although those idiots did make me waste a day there. I did no more than was asked of me.” He seemed to be down-playing his part, Sirius noted, he really didn’t want any recognition.
Harry held his hand out then, and after Snape had placed his own hand in it, with the caution of a spy looking for any mistrust, Harry shook it vigorously, his face breaking into a smile as he spoke.
“Thank You, Sir. Thanks for giving me a family.” If Snape was taken aback by those words, he didn’t immediately show it, but he appeared to be swallowing quite rapidly and he pulled his hand away from Harry’s quite quickly.
“Yes well had I known it would benefit the Golden Boy so, I would have left well enough alone.” It sounded lame even to his own ears, and he grimaced inwardly when Harry’s grin only got larger. This whole day was beginning to take its toll on him and it was unnerving him how much he was suddenly glad Sirius was able to care for Harry. No not Harry. Potter, his name was Potter. And he was only glad of Black’s freedom because it meant one less thing he had to do, and he could definitely do without having to keep Potter from harm everyday, that was enough work in its own right.
Closing down his mind from any thoughts, he put on his customary mask of impassiveness and decided that the Troublesome Trio needed scaring.
“In any case, I do believe it is far past curfew and unless my eyes deceive me, this is not the Gryffindor common room. Now I am not completely heartless,” he chose to ignore the choking sound coming from the youngest Weasley son, “so I’ll only take 5 points each but if you’re not in there within the next 10 minutes, you may find yourself with a house having negative points for the first time in the history of the school.” His voice was its usual ice, but it didn’t cause the reaction it usually did. Though they did begin rising and saying their farewells, all three students were grinning, and as they left even Weasley said goodbye to him, albeit rather reluctantly, but it was so different to their usual exits that he had to resist the urge to pinch himself in case it was an obscure dream.
Suddenly realising he was alone with Black he turned his mind back to the reason he was there in the first place. Schooling his features, he reached stiffly into one of his pockets and pulled out a long, thin, mahogany wand. He took a breath and then turned to face the seated man, holding the wand out in front of him.
To his credit, Black managed not to jump in surprise at the wand pointed towards him, though the emotion did register on his face so much so that Snape felt compelled to explain, even if he did it in exasperation.
“For Merlin’s sake Black, I’m not going to hex you with your own wand.”
Blue-grey eyes rose up to meet his then, and inwardly he flinched at the cautious way the eyes lowered to the wand in his hand, the words spoken in a near whisper.
“My wand?”
There was a time when the Sirius Black he knew would have snatched his wand away, cursing and complaining that by holding it Snape had covered it in grease, and the next thing he would know he would be stuck in a violent duel. But this Sirius Black just looked at the wand in wonder, his hands caressing it in silence.
He made to leave then, not willing to admit to the unfamiliar feeling of sadness that had swept over him. What had they done to the arrogant, obnoxious boy Black had been?
Strangely he found himself wishing to be hexed just to know that that boy was still in there somewhere.
Shaking his head in disbelief at his own thoughts he was almost at the door when the voice reached him. It was no longer a whisper, but stronger, the voice he remembered from before the Potters fell, and then from the Order meetings in the past years and he found himself turning back.
“Why?” It was only one word, but after the happenings of this week alone it had so many possible answers and meanings, some he wasn’t sure he could give.
He inclined his head and Black seemed to take this as his cue to elaborate.
“Why are you giving me my wand back?”
Oh, that one he could answer. That was a safe topic.
“The Ministry sent it. Turns out they never took the time to snap it, but kept it as some kind of trophy after your capture.” His voice had started off calm and collected, but by the end the anger he felt at the Ministry for their behaviour towards Black became clear.
It was funny, when he thought about it. Ever since Black’s innocence had been shown to him, he had felt an unusual anger towards the Ministry, and after even Albus Dumbledore’s word hadn’t been able to remove their prejudices towards Black, he knew that one day he would have to do something to make sure that the innocent man wasn’t sent back to Azkaban again.
He had planned to put it in his Will, knowing that even in death he would have some sway over the idiots in the Ministry, but Dumbledore’s request had brought the event some what closer.
He couldn’t deny the small pleasure he’d felt at being able to force them to change their minds, being able to make a difference where others couldn’t, as much as he hated that it had meant falling into the patterns of his family, he finally knew what Lucius had been saying all along.
Although as with everything Malfoy, Lucius’s motives had never been about righting wrongs, no, far more about making them.
Black’s voice once again broke through his thoughts.
“No, why are you giving it to me?” He didn’t need to mention the anger; the surprise at it was still in his eyes.
“Oh, the Ministry sent it to me through the contacts I used. Seems that now I’ve acknowledged them, they won’t leave me alone, but I’m sure that after I pleasantly told them I didn’t wish to correspond with them further, they will leave me be for a while.” He smirked.
“I took your wand to Albus as soon as it was delivered, but he insisted he was too busy to come all the way over here and that if I didn’t mind too much could I do it. And since he had made sure that the House Elves won’t touch it, and my Slytherins are plotting ways to kill, what was it they called you, oh yes, ‘that traitorous bastard’, I thought it safer I deliver it in person.”
“Do you get the feeling he wanted us to talk?” His eyes were alive again, and he waved his hand at one of the chairs, inviting him to sit.
“Hmm, well that this is one way for him to kill me off I suppose. Give a wand to the enemy and then it becomes my fault for handing the weapon over in the first place. He is indeed a cunning fool; perhaps Slytherin was his house after all.”
He had taken a seat rather stiffly and sat as he always did. His back straight, legs crossed gracefully, and his hands clasped on his stomach.
His face was impassive as ever, and his eyes showed nothing but reflective black, but his voice was full of amusement and sarcasm and both realised that this was quite possibly the first conversation they had ever had that didn’t include hexes or threats on one or both of their lives.
Black was smiling when he spoke next, with something that, had it been anyone but Black, he would have called a definite Slytherin trait.
“Was that a joke Snape? I didn’t know you had it in you? Did it hurt?” He was cut off by the cold glare directed at him, and tried to restrain the laugh that threatened to bubble over.
He needed to remind himself that although his impression of Snape had shifted dramatically over the past few hours, nothing had happened to change Snape’s view of him, and he was likely to react as he usually did. But he didn’t. He just glared at Black from his position across from him.
“Are you trying to get yourself cursed Black, because if that is indeed your aim tonight I can assure you that you are very close to achieving it.” And Black believed him. The man was notoriously short tempered, though not hot-headed like himself. He raised his hands in a symbol of surrender.
“Okay, you caught me. I decided that I should spend my first few days of freedom stuck in the infirmary.” The first comfortable silence they had ever had fell over them then, as both seemed lost in thought.
The moment was broken by Black and his question caused Snape to tense even more.
“Why’d you do it? Albus told me how much you hated the thought of using your heritage for anything. So why’d you use it for me?”
His answer was quick, too quick, and he knew it wouldn’t be accepted as the whole truth.
“Albus asked me too.”
“Snape, as much power of persuasion as Albus has over all of us, I know that you wouldn’t do anything you didn’t want to do even if he did ask.” He seemed serious in his need to know the truth, but Snape was reluctant to admit to anything, especially something he wasn’t sure of himself.
How could he tell him that he had wanted to help him? That he had planned to before Albus asked him. He still wasn’t sure of his reasons behind that, besides the anger at the injustice, and his honest hatred of the Ministry itself. Instead he focused more on what Black had said, not what he had asked.
“Oh yes, because I so want to grovel at the Dark Lord’s feet again. It was all I could do not to beg Albus to allow me.” Sarcasm dripped viciously from the words, but it wasn’t directed at him personally, there was none of the usual malice in his voice when he spoke to him, and Black wondered if maybe something had changed.
“Well ok, besides that. But really. Why did you do it?” He asked again, not willing to let it go. Like a dog with a bone, his mind supplied.
Still unsure how to answer and having no way out this time Snape would have been grateful for anything to interrupt them.
Almost anything that is, for he was definitely not grateful for the searing pain that shot up his left arm.
Glancing up at Black he realised that he must have hissed out loud, he expected to see humour on his face, enjoyment at seeing him in pain, but he wasn’t expecting to see concern.
For a moment the shock numbed the pain and he just sat staring dumbly at Black, but another blast reminded him of his duty, and he rose quickly, using all his willpower not to clutch his arm. Sirius stood as well and followed him to the door.
Just as he was stepping out he grasped the black-coated arm. And he gulped as the wizard’s gaze swung round to rest on him.
“You better be careful. You’ve still got some questions to answer.”
“Oh yes, that’ll get me through Black. ‘Please Master, don’t kill me Master, Sirius Black wants to question me Master.’ I can hear his laughter from here. So if you would kindly take your dirty paw off my arm I have to go.” He knew he was taking his pain out on Black, but he really did have to go. It was quite a walk to his rooms, and then out into the forbidden forest, and the Dark Lord didn’t like to be kept waiting.
“Hey, say what you have to, but my paws are perfectly clean thank you very much.” And he let go of his arm, stood and watched until the billowing robes disappeared from view.
Then he stepped back into his rooms, picked up his wand and a book, and headed for the Headmaster’s office, where he would wait for his return. Not out of concern, he told himself, but out of duty.
An eye for an eye and all that. The man had helped him after all.
And if he kept telling himself that he might just start to believe it.
The sun had already begun to rise by the time he returned. And he sighed realising it would be yet another night without sleep.
He hadn’t fared to badly this time.
While sometimes he was able to avoid all punishment, some times it was simply unavoidable and he would return with injuries ranging from the after effects of the Cruciatus, to being near death and having to be carried to the castle by Hagrid. Thankfully tonight he was closer to the former than the latter.
He went straight to the Headmaster’s office. He could fix himself up from there, no one but the headmaster would see him and he preferred to see the extent of injuries himself, not trusting Severus to give a complete recount once they were gone.
He reached the gargoyle, spoke the password, and then allowed the stairs to take him up. He didn’t swing the door open, but instead pushed it forward slightly and slipped silently through the gap. No use shocking the old wizard awake, if indeed he ever slept.
The room into which he stepped was almost pitch black. Using his eerily good night vision, and knowledge of the layout of the office he stepped in further and moved towards where he could see Albus’s outline.
As he neared him he caught another outline to his left, turning sharply he recognised the wizard slumped in the armchair.
“He’s been there since you were summoned. He wouldn’t leave. Kept insisting he be here and awake when you came back, but it seems that today’s excitement got the better of him.”
He didn’t jump at the voice, but slowly turned to its source, absent mindedly waving his wand at the sleeping Black, and meeting a concerned but amused face.
“What?” He spoke uncharacteristically quietly, his voice soft. A tone rarely heard from him.
But the older wizard simply shook his head and motioned Severus to the other chair.
“I don’t have much to...” but he was cut off by Albus’s raised hand.
“That can wait; firstly we need to fix you. How bad is it?” Severus barely managed to resist the urge to roll his eyes at the concern for his well being, not because it was unappreciated but because he was still unaccustomed to it even after all these years, and it was the only thing he could think of doing besides crying his eyes out at the fact that someone cared.
And he wasn’t going to do that.
“I’m fine Albus. Seriously.” He added upon seeing the incredulous expression. “He was only angry that I had not informed him of my plan to free Black. I should have known that one of them would talk, but I placated him with my plans to convert him to ‘our’ side now that he was in my debt.” He spat the word out like some disgusting flavoured Bertie Botts bean.
He didn’t like the presence of guilt on the old wizards face and was quick to attempt to remove it.
“He was frustrated tonight Albus. It is taking him far longer than he would like to regain his strength and he is taking it out on us all. If it hadn’t been for this, it would have been over something else and it could have been a lot worse. As it was, it was only the Cruciatus and only once, as I said he hasn’t the strength to waste on proper punishment.” The guilt wasn’t gone completely but it had faded.
“Perhaps I should call Poppy up.” The concern was back though. This time he didn’t resist his urge and his eyes rolled dramatically.
“I am fine Albus. When I return to my rooms I promise to drink one of my potions, there is absolutely no reason to wake up Poppy at this time in the morning. That woman is scary enough with a full night’s sleep I shudder to think how she would be after being woken for this.” His eyes smiled at the Headmasters’ laugh, but it didn’t reach his lips. It never did.
“As I was saying when I arrived, I don’t know much at the moment. As always my orders are to watch you and Potter and plan ways to rid the world of you. How shall I fail this time, I wonder? Perhaps a miss brewed death potion, I shall have to think longer on the specifics.”
And the Headmaster laughed again. This time louder, and Severus finally relaxed into the chair allowing the sound to wash over him. It was so much more soothing than the evil hissing laugh of Voldemort, and it worked far better on his frayed nerves than a potion ever would.
Not that he’d admit it of course.
Not even under veritaserum.
He woke up groggily to the sound of...laughter?
He pushed his eyelids apart and stared around the room trying to remember where he was.
Finally his surroundings became familiar and he snuggled back into the chair, pulling the blanket tighter around him. His eyes shot open again.
He hadn’t had a blanket.
Confused he pulled a section of the material in front of his eyes using his dog’s night vision to make out the detail. It wasn’t black as he had first thought, but a very dark green, and the border of small silver snakes around the edge looked neither distasteful nor overly glamorous.
Knowing that there was no chance that Albus would summon such an item for him, even as a joke, the only option was the person he had been waiting for, but why would he have taken the energy to?
“Ah it would seem that our resident accused has decided to grace us with his presence.” Amazingly there was no bite to the voice and Sirius had never heard it so soft. It was strangely sexy to hear that velvet voice coming from the dark.
“That’s wrongly accused thank you very much.” He grouched pulling himself up into a more respectable position.
“So nice to see that you are still such a morning person Black.”
“So nice to see that you haven’t been killed yet Snape, sending you back in the light, tsk tsk do they not know it will kill you?”
He’s words were met with silence and he was suddenly worried he had gone too far. When had it come to the point that he worried about taunting Snape? Oh, he needed more sleep.
Suddenly his eyes were blinded by light and before they had a chance to adjust he heard Snape speak from beside his ear.
“It would seem that it is not me that is affected by the light, Black.” And he was gone again, leaving Sirius to wonder if he had imagined the amusement in his voice.
: tbc :
Rating: 18 (adult only)
Pairing: Snape/Sirius
Genre: Romance/Drama
Warning: Slash, Violence
Summary: Sometimes that which we look for is in the strangest of places, and those that we know are not how they seem. With the war between the Light and Dark drawing near, anything is possible.
Total Length: 45,000+ words
Status: Complete
A/N: Written pre-HBP and DH, ignores the character death of OotP.
: Part One:
Part Two
It was several hours later that he came out of the office and walked straight into his Godson, sending them both to the floor, much to the amusement of Hermione and Ron, even Harry was laughing from his position beneath Sirius’ chest. Sirius lay there a moment longer pulling his thoughts together.
“Er Sirius, could you let me up, you’re squashing me?” Harry’s voice, full of laughter, snapped him from his daze and he grinned mischievously before raising his hands and tickling him. When he stopped, they were both panting and grinning madly and he helped Harry to his feet both turning to face an equally grinning Ron and an almost disapproving Hermione, but her eyes were grinning.
They were almost at Sirius’s guest rooms when Harry finally spoke, his words sending Sirius back to the long conversation with Dumbledore after Severus had left. Severus? When had he started thinking of him as Severus?
“So did Dumbledore tell you who got you pardoned?” He paused only a minute before answering.
“Yes.” They were at the portrait now, and Hermione told him the temporary password.
When they were all comfortably seated in the chairs the children had conjured, Harry asked the expected question.
“So who was it then? I mean if none of the Order knew and they managed to convince the whole ministry that their favourite criminal was innocent, they must have tonnes of power. So, who was it? Do we know them? Are they famous?” He paused for a moment, utter disgust and worry crossing his features. “It was Malfoy wasn’t it, ‘cause he’d do it just so that you were in his debt and that would mean you were in Voldemort’s debt too. Oh stop wincing Ron. Really.”
And Sirius laughed.
The thought of Lucius Malfoy still having enough sway with the Ministry to get him released was funny enough, but the way Harry had spoken, he’d sounded so like Hermione it was too much. He stopped at the confused faces in front of him.
“Seriously, do you really think Malfoy has that power anymore? No it wasn’t him, but I’m sure that this particular wizard would rather enjoy it if he thought I was in his debt.” But then Snape had wanted to stay anonymous, so he obviously didn’t think Black owed him. Even after Albus had explained everything, as he knew it, it still didn’t make sense to him. Why would Snape do it, but never use it as a hold over him. It was what he expected. It seemed to him, that there was a lot more to the Potions Master that he had yet to understand.
Hermione surprised him then, although on reflection he supposed if anyone were to guess it would be her. She really was smart, just like him and again he found his mind drifting back to the spying Death Eater.
“It was Professor Snape wasn’t it.” It wasn’t really a question, and the boys’ laughter stopped instantly when they realised that he wasn’t laughing too.
“Yes.” Hermione stared at him, a triumphant smirk on her face at having guessed correctly, Ron just stared in distant horror as his image of the Greasy Git suffered an irreversible blow. But Harry stuttered in very much the same way as he had upon finding out, and it caused the corners of Sirius’s lips to curl into a smile again.
“But he hates you.” Was Harry’s first discernable sentence.
“Yes that’s what I said. But Professor Dumbledore asked him to do it and he did.”
He wasn’t going to say anymore until he’d spoken to the Slytherin in person, but Ron was giving him an incredulous glare and he could almost see Harry’s mind concocting all sorts of explanations that all contained Snape in the role of villain, and saving Sirius for his own evil purposes, but after doing the same himself and expressing his concerns to the Headmaster, he was now more sure than he had ever been about anything, that Snape wasn’t like that and he needed to clear that up once and for all.
“He didn’t do it for his own selfish reasons, in fact from what the headmaster said, it was one of the most selfless things he has ever done. And after hearing the story, I’d have to agree with him. But I don’t think I’ll tell you three. You’d never believe me.” His eyes twinkled, not unlike the Headmasters, and he laughed inwardly at the exasperated expressions on the three faces before him.
“Please tell us.” “That’s not fair.” And “I wanna know what could persuade the Great Bat to help anyone.” Flew at him all at once, and with a false sigh of resignation he made himself even more comfortable in the chair and began telling them what Albus had told him, right from the beginning, none of them hearing the portrait open or noticing the black form that leaned cautiously in the corner.
“I guess I should start from the beginning otherwise it won’t make much sense.
Theodire Snape was Snape’s Great Grandfather; he was also the Minister for Magic during the war with Grindlewald. At that time, the ministry was fair, it wasn’t completely free of bias, but they did show their support for both the opposition of him and their support for Dumbledore. Unfortunately, his sons were not. Well one of them, Zacarus Snape, Snape’s Great Uncle, decided that he had stood in his father’s shadow too long and when the final war came, he was there, lying right beside Grindlewald when he fell.
It was the other son that killed Zacarus, in self-defence because after the dark wizard had fallen, he went mad and started firing curses at his father and brother, even at Dumbledore. In the end, the family fell apart. Theodire Snape’s wife broke away from her husband and went off with, if you can believe it, a Black, though not anyone closely related to me, a very very distant Great Cousin I believe.
Anyway, with his wife gone, and his son slowly going mad from the guilt of killing his brother, Theodire resigned his position and moved away with his remaining son and his family, that would be Snape’s father and Grandmother. They weren’t heard of for quite some time, until Venos, that’s the brother, died. Theodire moved back to England straight away, bringing with him Snape’s father, but Venos’s widow stayed in Italy where they had been living. Being around Dumbledore’s age and having seen much the same as he had, he knew that his only chance to ensure that his family would be comfortable would be to infiltrate his way into the aristocratic pure-blooded families.
I don’t know, but I think that the years watching his remaining son go mad and constantly being reminded of the betrayal of his other son, caused the former Minister to go mad himself. He definitely went evil. He had contacts everywhere in the Ministry. Some were from his days as Minister, but most were contacts that even the Malfoys won’t go near. He made his money, but it cost him a lot as well. By the time of his death, he and the rest of his family were unbelievably wealthy, but were so woven into the Dark Arts that many were scared of them and the rest somehow owed him life debts.
He lived until just after Snape’s birth and even after he was gone, the fear and power surrounding his family never left. Neither did the money. When the first war against Voldemort happened, the Snapes were right up there with him, apparently they financed quite a lot of his effort, much more than the Malfoys, though it didn’t make so much as a dent in their savings. I don’t know what happened to Snape, Albus said that was Snape’s own story to tell, but I do know that he disowned his family at some point, he left the money and power behind, but both his parents died before the end of the first war, and so he inherited it all. And it was that power over the Ministry that meant that he had the sway to get me out. But Dumbledore said that he still hates what his family stood for, which is why he doesn’t live in any of the Snape estates across the country.”
In fact, Albus had said that Snape hadn’t ever used his power over the Ministry for anything, not even to avoid Azkaban when he was caught, not wanting to have to acknowledge his background in any way, but he had used it for him. The one person that had made his life a misery for years, the person who had suspected his every move, and publicly questioned his loyalties.
He just wasn’t sure that even a request from Albus would have made him do for Snape what Snape had done for him.
They sat quietly for a few minutes, Sirius wondering at the guilt he felt for the past, and the intense need to find something that would be sufficient as a thank you; somehow he doubted that a few flowers and a card were going to do it, Harry, Ron and Hermione stared at him in silent amazement, fading disbelief and new found respect for their professor respectively.
It was Ron who spoke first, trying to get his mind around this new concept he was getting of Snape. Not truly understanding why the hated Professor would do anything to help Sirius, especially to use the contacts of the family he so obviously despised. And asking the first of many questions that came to him.
“So Snape is as rich as the Malfoys?”
They all jumped about two foot in the air when the black figure in the corner moved from the dark, to stand in the shadows and answered the question himself.
“Actually, Lucius lives on the Snape estate in Suffolk.” Seeing their shocked and confused faces, he did something he would never have done had he not heard all that was said before. Had Black been defending him instead of putting him right there with the rest of his dark family?
“Lucius built and paid for the mansion but the grounds belonged to my father.” No one failed to notice that he never said they belonged to him, even though as the last Snape they did. It was becoming clear just how much he wanted to be kept separate from his family.
Harry was the first to move. He stood to face his Professor, an indefinable expression on his face. “Is it true sir, what Sirius said? Did you go to the ministry and prove his innocence?” His voice was firm; he knew how to face the sneering man before him.
“Yes, I went to the ministry. It was little trouble really, although those idiots did make me waste a day there. I did no more than was asked of me.” He seemed to be down-playing his part, Sirius noted, he really didn’t want any recognition.
Harry held his hand out then, and after Snape had placed his own hand in it, with the caution of a spy looking for any mistrust, Harry shook it vigorously, his face breaking into a smile as he spoke.
“Thank You, Sir. Thanks for giving me a family.” If Snape was taken aback by those words, he didn’t immediately show it, but he appeared to be swallowing quite rapidly and he pulled his hand away from Harry’s quite quickly.
“Yes well had I known it would benefit the Golden Boy so, I would have left well enough alone.” It sounded lame even to his own ears, and he grimaced inwardly when Harry’s grin only got larger. This whole day was beginning to take its toll on him and it was unnerving him how much he was suddenly glad Sirius was able to care for Harry. No not Harry. Potter, his name was Potter. And he was only glad of Black’s freedom because it meant one less thing he had to do, and he could definitely do without having to keep Potter from harm everyday, that was enough work in its own right.
Closing down his mind from any thoughts, he put on his customary mask of impassiveness and decided that the Troublesome Trio needed scaring.
“In any case, I do believe it is far past curfew and unless my eyes deceive me, this is not the Gryffindor common room. Now I am not completely heartless,” he chose to ignore the choking sound coming from the youngest Weasley son, “so I’ll only take 5 points each but if you’re not in there within the next 10 minutes, you may find yourself with a house having negative points for the first time in the history of the school.” His voice was its usual ice, but it didn’t cause the reaction it usually did. Though they did begin rising and saying their farewells, all three students were grinning, and as they left even Weasley said goodbye to him, albeit rather reluctantly, but it was so different to their usual exits that he had to resist the urge to pinch himself in case it was an obscure dream.
Suddenly realising he was alone with Black he turned his mind back to the reason he was there in the first place. Schooling his features, he reached stiffly into one of his pockets and pulled out a long, thin, mahogany wand. He took a breath and then turned to face the seated man, holding the wand out in front of him.
To his credit, Black managed not to jump in surprise at the wand pointed towards him, though the emotion did register on his face so much so that Snape felt compelled to explain, even if he did it in exasperation.
“For Merlin’s sake Black, I’m not going to hex you with your own wand.”
Blue-grey eyes rose up to meet his then, and inwardly he flinched at the cautious way the eyes lowered to the wand in his hand, the words spoken in a near whisper.
“My wand?”
There was a time when the Sirius Black he knew would have snatched his wand away, cursing and complaining that by holding it Snape had covered it in grease, and the next thing he would know he would be stuck in a violent duel. But this Sirius Black just looked at the wand in wonder, his hands caressing it in silence.
He made to leave then, not willing to admit to the unfamiliar feeling of sadness that had swept over him. What had they done to the arrogant, obnoxious boy Black had been?
Strangely he found himself wishing to be hexed just to know that that boy was still in there somewhere.
Shaking his head in disbelief at his own thoughts he was almost at the door when the voice reached him. It was no longer a whisper, but stronger, the voice he remembered from before the Potters fell, and then from the Order meetings in the past years and he found himself turning back.
“Why?” It was only one word, but after the happenings of this week alone it had so many possible answers and meanings, some he wasn’t sure he could give.
He inclined his head and Black seemed to take this as his cue to elaborate.
“Why are you giving me my wand back?”
Oh, that one he could answer. That was a safe topic.
“The Ministry sent it. Turns out they never took the time to snap it, but kept it as some kind of trophy after your capture.” His voice had started off calm and collected, but by the end the anger he felt at the Ministry for their behaviour towards Black became clear.
It was funny, when he thought about it. Ever since Black’s innocence had been shown to him, he had felt an unusual anger towards the Ministry, and after even Albus Dumbledore’s word hadn’t been able to remove their prejudices towards Black, he knew that one day he would have to do something to make sure that the innocent man wasn’t sent back to Azkaban again.
He had planned to put it in his Will, knowing that even in death he would have some sway over the idiots in the Ministry, but Dumbledore’s request had brought the event some what closer.
He couldn’t deny the small pleasure he’d felt at being able to force them to change their minds, being able to make a difference where others couldn’t, as much as he hated that it had meant falling into the patterns of his family, he finally knew what Lucius had been saying all along.
Although as with everything Malfoy, Lucius’s motives had never been about righting wrongs, no, far more about making them.
Black’s voice once again broke through his thoughts.
“No, why are you giving it to me?” He didn’t need to mention the anger; the surprise at it was still in his eyes.
“Oh, the Ministry sent it to me through the contacts I used. Seems that now I’ve acknowledged them, they won’t leave me alone, but I’m sure that after I pleasantly told them I didn’t wish to correspond with them further, they will leave me be for a while.” He smirked.
“I took your wand to Albus as soon as it was delivered, but he insisted he was too busy to come all the way over here and that if I didn’t mind too much could I do it. And since he had made sure that the House Elves won’t touch it, and my Slytherins are plotting ways to kill, what was it they called you, oh yes, ‘that traitorous bastard’, I thought it safer I deliver it in person.”
“Do you get the feeling he wanted us to talk?” His eyes were alive again, and he waved his hand at one of the chairs, inviting him to sit.
“Hmm, well that this is one way for him to kill me off I suppose. Give a wand to the enemy and then it becomes my fault for handing the weapon over in the first place. He is indeed a cunning fool; perhaps Slytherin was his house after all.”
He had taken a seat rather stiffly and sat as he always did. His back straight, legs crossed gracefully, and his hands clasped on his stomach.
His face was impassive as ever, and his eyes showed nothing but reflective black, but his voice was full of amusement and sarcasm and both realised that this was quite possibly the first conversation they had ever had that didn’t include hexes or threats on one or both of their lives.
Black was smiling when he spoke next, with something that, had it been anyone but Black, he would have called a definite Slytherin trait.
“Was that a joke Snape? I didn’t know you had it in you? Did it hurt?” He was cut off by the cold glare directed at him, and tried to restrain the laugh that threatened to bubble over.
He needed to remind himself that although his impression of Snape had shifted dramatically over the past few hours, nothing had happened to change Snape’s view of him, and he was likely to react as he usually did. But he didn’t. He just glared at Black from his position across from him.
“Are you trying to get yourself cursed Black, because if that is indeed your aim tonight I can assure you that you are very close to achieving it.” And Black believed him. The man was notoriously short tempered, though not hot-headed like himself. He raised his hands in a symbol of surrender.
“Okay, you caught me. I decided that I should spend my first few days of freedom stuck in the infirmary.” The first comfortable silence they had ever had fell over them then, as both seemed lost in thought.
The moment was broken by Black and his question caused Snape to tense even more.
“Why’d you do it? Albus told me how much you hated the thought of using your heritage for anything. So why’d you use it for me?”
His answer was quick, too quick, and he knew it wouldn’t be accepted as the whole truth.
“Albus asked me too.”
“Snape, as much power of persuasion as Albus has over all of us, I know that you wouldn’t do anything you didn’t want to do even if he did ask.” He seemed serious in his need to know the truth, but Snape was reluctant to admit to anything, especially something he wasn’t sure of himself.
How could he tell him that he had wanted to help him? That he had planned to before Albus asked him. He still wasn’t sure of his reasons behind that, besides the anger at the injustice, and his honest hatred of the Ministry itself. Instead he focused more on what Black had said, not what he had asked.
“Oh yes, because I so want to grovel at the Dark Lord’s feet again. It was all I could do not to beg Albus to allow me.” Sarcasm dripped viciously from the words, but it wasn’t directed at him personally, there was none of the usual malice in his voice when he spoke to him, and Black wondered if maybe something had changed.
“Well ok, besides that. But really. Why did you do it?” He asked again, not willing to let it go. Like a dog with a bone, his mind supplied.
Still unsure how to answer and having no way out this time Snape would have been grateful for anything to interrupt them.
Almost anything that is, for he was definitely not grateful for the searing pain that shot up his left arm.
Glancing up at Black he realised that he must have hissed out loud, he expected to see humour on his face, enjoyment at seeing him in pain, but he wasn’t expecting to see concern.
For a moment the shock numbed the pain and he just sat staring dumbly at Black, but another blast reminded him of his duty, and he rose quickly, using all his willpower not to clutch his arm. Sirius stood as well and followed him to the door.
Just as he was stepping out he grasped the black-coated arm. And he gulped as the wizard’s gaze swung round to rest on him.
“You better be careful. You’ve still got some questions to answer.”
“Oh yes, that’ll get me through Black. ‘Please Master, don’t kill me Master, Sirius Black wants to question me Master.’ I can hear his laughter from here. So if you would kindly take your dirty paw off my arm I have to go.” He knew he was taking his pain out on Black, but he really did have to go. It was quite a walk to his rooms, and then out into the forbidden forest, and the Dark Lord didn’t like to be kept waiting.
“Hey, say what you have to, but my paws are perfectly clean thank you very much.” And he let go of his arm, stood and watched until the billowing robes disappeared from view.
Then he stepped back into his rooms, picked up his wand and a book, and headed for the Headmaster’s office, where he would wait for his return. Not out of concern, he told himself, but out of duty.
An eye for an eye and all that. The man had helped him after all.
And if he kept telling himself that he might just start to believe it.
The sun had already begun to rise by the time he returned. And he sighed realising it would be yet another night without sleep.
He hadn’t fared to badly this time.
While sometimes he was able to avoid all punishment, some times it was simply unavoidable and he would return with injuries ranging from the after effects of the Cruciatus, to being near death and having to be carried to the castle by Hagrid. Thankfully tonight he was closer to the former than the latter.
He went straight to the Headmaster’s office. He could fix himself up from there, no one but the headmaster would see him and he preferred to see the extent of injuries himself, not trusting Severus to give a complete recount once they were gone.
He reached the gargoyle, spoke the password, and then allowed the stairs to take him up. He didn’t swing the door open, but instead pushed it forward slightly and slipped silently through the gap. No use shocking the old wizard awake, if indeed he ever slept.
The room into which he stepped was almost pitch black. Using his eerily good night vision, and knowledge of the layout of the office he stepped in further and moved towards where he could see Albus’s outline.
As he neared him he caught another outline to his left, turning sharply he recognised the wizard slumped in the armchair.
“He’s been there since you were summoned. He wouldn’t leave. Kept insisting he be here and awake when you came back, but it seems that today’s excitement got the better of him.”
He didn’t jump at the voice, but slowly turned to its source, absent mindedly waving his wand at the sleeping Black, and meeting a concerned but amused face.
“What?” He spoke uncharacteristically quietly, his voice soft. A tone rarely heard from him.
But the older wizard simply shook his head and motioned Severus to the other chair.
“I don’t have much to...” but he was cut off by Albus’s raised hand.
“That can wait; firstly we need to fix you. How bad is it?” Severus barely managed to resist the urge to roll his eyes at the concern for his well being, not because it was unappreciated but because he was still unaccustomed to it even after all these years, and it was the only thing he could think of doing besides crying his eyes out at the fact that someone cared.
And he wasn’t going to do that.
“I’m fine Albus. Seriously.” He added upon seeing the incredulous expression. “He was only angry that I had not informed him of my plan to free Black. I should have known that one of them would talk, but I placated him with my plans to convert him to ‘our’ side now that he was in my debt.” He spat the word out like some disgusting flavoured Bertie Botts bean.
He didn’t like the presence of guilt on the old wizards face and was quick to attempt to remove it.
“He was frustrated tonight Albus. It is taking him far longer than he would like to regain his strength and he is taking it out on us all. If it hadn’t been for this, it would have been over something else and it could have been a lot worse. As it was, it was only the Cruciatus and only once, as I said he hasn’t the strength to waste on proper punishment.” The guilt wasn’t gone completely but it had faded.
“Perhaps I should call Poppy up.” The concern was back though. This time he didn’t resist his urge and his eyes rolled dramatically.
“I am fine Albus. When I return to my rooms I promise to drink one of my potions, there is absolutely no reason to wake up Poppy at this time in the morning. That woman is scary enough with a full night’s sleep I shudder to think how she would be after being woken for this.” His eyes smiled at the Headmasters’ laugh, but it didn’t reach his lips. It never did.
“As I was saying when I arrived, I don’t know much at the moment. As always my orders are to watch you and Potter and plan ways to rid the world of you. How shall I fail this time, I wonder? Perhaps a miss brewed death potion, I shall have to think longer on the specifics.”
And the Headmaster laughed again. This time louder, and Severus finally relaxed into the chair allowing the sound to wash over him. It was so much more soothing than the evil hissing laugh of Voldemort, and it worked far better on his frayed nerves than a potion ever would.
Not that he’d admit it of course.
Not even under veritaserum.
He woke up groggily to the sound of...laughter?
He pushed his eyelids apart and stared around the room trying to remember where he was.
Finally his surroundings became familiar and he snuggled back into the chair, pulling the blanket tighter around him. His eyes shot open again.
He hadn’t had a blanket.
Confused he pulled a section of the material in front of his eyes using his dog’s night vision to make out the detail. It wasn’t black as he had first thought, but a very dark green, and the border of small silver snakes around the edge looked neither distasteful nor overly glamorous.
Knowing that there was no chance that Albus would summon such an item for him, even as a joke, the only option was the person he had been waiting for, but why would he have taken the energy to?
“Ah it would seem that our resident accused has decided to grace us with his presence.” Amazingly there was no bite to the voice and Sirius had never heard it so soft. It was strangely sexy to hear that velvet voice coming from the dark.
“That’s wrongly accused thank you very much.” He grouched pulling himself up into a more respectable position.
“So nice to see that you are still such a morning person Black.”
“So nice to see that you haven’t been killed yet Snape, sending you back in the light, tsk tsk do they not know it will kill you?”
He’s words were met with silence and he was suddenly worried he had gone too far. When had it come to the point that he worried about taunting Snape? Oh, he needed more sleep.
Suddenly his eyes were blinded by light and before they had a chance to adjust he heard Snape speak from beside his ear.
“It would seem that it is not me that is affected by the light, Black.” And he was gone again, leaving Sirius to wonder if he had imagined the amusement in his voice.
: tbc :