FIC: Aftermaths, Part 48

[geri_chan]

Title: Aftermaths, Part 48
Rating: NC-17 overall, but most chapters are closer to PG-13
Pairing: Snape/Lupin, Theodore/Blaise, and a few other minor pairings
Word count: ~8,810
Warning: AU; written pre-HBP
Author's notes: {} Indicates character's unspoken thoughts
Disclaimer: No money is being made off this story; consider it a little wish fulfillment on my part.
Sequel to: Always, Summer Vacation, For Old Time's Sake, Three's a Crowd, Return of the Raven, Phoenix Reborn, Phoenix Rising
Summary: Snape, Lupin, Theo, and Dylan arrive at Snape Manor for the holidays. Later, they have a snowball fight while Selima reflects on her past.

Part 47 (Previous chapters can be found under the aftermaths tag.)

***

Lupin and Snape stopped by the Slytherin common room that night for one last visit before they left for Snape Manor. Aric had just been released from the hospital wing, although he had not been allowed to go to Hogsmeade (both because of his condition and his detention), and was sitting beside the fire being fussed over by Yvonne and a few other girls. Lupin had brought a large box of Honeydukes assorted sweets: candy canes, marshmallow snowmen, and chocolates molded in Christmas shapes like trees, wreaths, bells, and Santas.

"It's sort of an early Christmas present," Lupin said with a smile as he passed the box around, "since we'll be leaving tomorrow, and I won't see you again till the Yule Ball."

"Actually, Professor," Pansy said, "we have something for you, too."

"A present?" Lupin asked, sounding delighted. "For me?"

"Yes, sir," Pansy said, grinning. "We'll be right back." She and Millicent ran to their room, then returned with two gift-wrapped packages. Draco had suggested that it might be prudent to buy something small for Snape, too, just so that he didn't feel snubbed. It was unlikely that he would, as Snape was not the sentimental type, and in any case, usually received his annual Christmas bribes from the Slytherin parents, but it was better to be safe than sorry, and the need to curry favor with one's superiors was an ingrained Slytherin trait.

"For you, sir," Millicent said, handing Snape his gift. "Merry Christmas." From the size, shape, and weight of the box--not to mention the wrapping paper printed with the Honeydukes logo--it was obviously a box of chocolates.

"Ah, thank you," Snape said awkwardly, obviously startled. He couldn't recall ever receiving a present personally from a student, although the parents of his Slytherins normally sent him expensive gifts every Christmas.

"And for you, Professor Lupin," Pansy said, handing Lupin a much larger box. "These are from everyone in Slytherin."

"Everyone?" Lupin asked, glancing at Aric out of the corner of his eye.

"Everyone," Pansy said emphatically. Aric scowled furiously, but did not contradict her.

"Why, thank you!" Lupin exclaimed, looking very touched. "I didn't expect this. Thank you so much, all of you." The Slytherins all beamed at him, looking very pleased with themselves, except for Aric, who kept scowling.

They passed a pleasant evening, eating candy and drinking hot chocolate, and talking about nothing in particular--just their holiday plans and what they hoped to get for Christmas and who was taking whom to the Yule Ball. No one mentioned tests or grades or near-fatal pranks.

Patrick Parkinson seemed to take a good deal of pleasure in watching his marshmallow snowman melt in his cocoa. He cackled wickedly as Miriam and Slaine giggled.

"Slytherin humor," Snape told Lupin.

"James and Sirius used to enjoy biting the heads off gingerbread men at Christmas," Lupin chuckled.

"Why does that not surprise me?" Snape muttered.

"Sometimes I worry about you," Pansy told her brother, shaking her head.

"You should worry more about what Mum will say when she finds out who you're going to the Ball with," Patrick said with a grin.

"Oh, drink your cocoa, brat," Pansy said, but in an affectionate manner.

Lupin played cards with some of the students, and Snape played chess with Dylan. Finally, when the younger children (and a few of the older ones) started yawning, Lupin called it a night.

Snape and Lupin returned to their quarters, and as they walked into the bedroom, Lupin said, "Look up, Sev." Snape glanced up and saw a sprig of mistletoe hanging in the doorway.

Snape laughed. "You know that isn't really necessary, Remus."

Lupin kissed him lightly on the lips. "I know," he said with a grin, "but I welcome any excuse to kiss you, Severus. And besides, I wanted to get this out of my system before we left Hogwarts. Somehow I doubt that Lady Selima will be happy if I start hanging mistletoe up all over Snape Manor."

Snape laughed again, in a much more wicked manner. "It would almost be worth it, to see the expression on her face!" Then he smiled slyly at Lupin. "So Remus, how long do you suppose it will take to 'get it out of your system'?"

"Oh, a very long time, I'm sure," Lupin said in a husky voice, wrapping his arms around Snape's neck and giving him a much deeper and more lengthy kiss.

"Then we'd better get started," Snape said breathlessly when they finally came up for air.

***

Snape, Lupin, and the boys arrived at Snape Manor the next morning after breakfast, laden down with bags and suitcases filled not only with clothes and personal items, but numerous Christmas presents as well. Dylan, although he was no longer single, was still quite popular, and was carrying a shopping bag filled entirely with presents from his fellow students, mainly the female ones.

"Well, aren't you the popular one?" Lupin teased.

"I had twice as many presents last year," Dylan said cheerfully. "Some of my admirers have abandoned me now that I'm no longer available."

In addition to their bags, they were also burdened with the cages containing Dylan's owl and Lupin's pet rat, but they somehow managed to get everything through the Floo in one trip. They stepped out of the fireplace and into the drawing room at Snape Manor, and gasped in surprise. There was a huge Christmas tree, over six feet high, standing in one corner of the room. Vorcher sat on the floor beside it, unpacking cardboard boxes filled with Christmas ornaments. When he saw them, he hastily scrambled to his feet and bowed, saying, "Welcome, Master. Vorcher begs the Master's pardon; the Mistress did not expect Master to arrive this early. Shall Vorcher fix tea and breakfast for the Master, the young Master, and their guests?"

"No, thank you," Lupin said politely. "We ate at Hogwarts."

Snape was still staring in shock at the tree. "Mother bought a Christmas tree this year?" he asked of no one in particular.

"Well, it is the Christmas season, after all, Severus," Lupin pointed out.

"My parents were never that big on Christmas, Lupin," Snape replied. "Although they did put up a tree and decorations when my mother was entertaining guests, simply because that was what people expected. But it was all for appearances."

"The Mistress and Master have not put up a tree for Christmas since the Master retired from the Ministry and Master Severus left home," Vorcher said, with just a hint of reproach in his voice. "But the Mistress said we should have a tree this year since Master Severus was coming home for Christmas." Vorcher smiled happily now. "And a Christmas feast!"

"A tree?" Snape asked, still staring at the item in question. "Just because we've come to stay for the holidays?"

"It was a lovely thought," Lupin said, smiling at him warmly. "It's just not Christmas without a tree. My family always had one, even if it was just a scrubby little thing that was more of a branch than a tree."

"It's a great tree!" Dylan said enthusiastically. "Can we help decorate it?"

"Of course," Selima said, entering the room. "That was why I had Vorcher wait until today to bring down the decorations." She gave Lupin a small, ironic smile. "It seemed like the sort of thing a Gryffindor would enjoy."

"I love decorating Christmas trees," Lupin said, grinning back at her, unoffended.

"Me too," added Dylan. "I always helped my mother and uncle and aunt decorate the tree at home." He smiled, a little sadly, and Lupin gave him a hug.

"Well, let's get started, shall we?" Lupin asked, and Dylan smiled again, with real pleasure this time.

"Perhaps we should take our bags up to our rooms and get unpacked first?" Snape suggested, and his lover and sons all gave him identical pleading looks. Lupin in particular looked so much like an eager child awaiting Christmas that Snape couldn't help but laugh.

Even Lady Selima smiled. "I think the unpacking can wait, Severus," she said almost indulgently. "Besides," she added, staring at the overflowing bag of Dylan's Christmas presents, "it seems that you can take care of some of the unpacking right here, once the tree is decorated. It's just as well that I bought a tree this year, or you would have no place to put your presents. The four of you certainly seem to have many friends."

"Oh, those are all Dylan's, Grandmother," Theodore laughed. "He's the most popular boy in the school!"

"You take after your father, I see," Selima said dryly to Dylan, who grinned.

"So everyone says, Lady Selima," Dylan agreed.

Snape watched in bemusement as Lupin and the boys helped Vorcher unpack the Christmas ornaments he remembered from his youth: delicate hand-blown glass spheres of green, red, gold, and silver--all very elegant and tasteful; nothing cute or sentimental like reindeer or Santas or angels. Lady Selima despised "cute," and Snape rather agreed with her, having a vivid memory of Elaine Baddock's collection of round-eyed, childlike, saccharine-sweet angel ornaments; Elaine had appallingly bad taste for a Slytherin.

There was a set of fanciful animal ornaments, though--a phoenix, unicorn, hippogriff, griffin, and several types of dragons, all hand-blown glass in exquisite colors. "How lovely!" Lupin exclaimed, holding up the phoenix, which was wrought in subtle shadings of red and orange that almost seemed to glow with an inner light.

"A gift from Ali," Selima sighed. "Of course."

Snape remembered those ornaments, which Ali had brought back from one of his frequent trading missions when Snape was five years old. Of all Snape's relatives, Ali was the only one who would choose such a whimsical gift. They did not entirely meet with Selima's approval, but since they were more elegant than cute, still merited a place on the tree, if only because they were a gift from a kinsman.

"Perhaps we should put up the tinsel first?" Lupin suggested.

"No tinsel this year," Vorcher said, smiling proudly. "The Mistress bought these." He opened another box and pulled out a long silver chain, along which were strung clear glass icicles, which tinkled softly against each other like wind chimes.

"I always thought that tinsel was a bit tawdry," Selima said with a disdainful little sniff.

"So realistic-looking," Lupin said, gently laying a finger against one of the icicles. "I almost expect it to feel cold to the touch." They carefully strung the chain around the tree, using a bit of levitation magic to reach the top of the tree. Next Vorcher brought out a set of gold and silver candleholders, and a box of small white candles. "Ah, real candles," Lupin said. The Potter family used to put electric lights on their tree, but he should have realized that a family as steeped in tradition as the Snapes would never stoop to using what they considered "Muggle devices".

"Of course," Selima said, sounding offended. "I would hardly use those crude Muggle electric lights."

Lupin smiled. "When my friend James was a boy, he somehow managed to set the tree on fire while playing with the candles. After that, his parents always used electric lights."

"There is a flame repellant spell set on the tree," Selima said, "and I never leave the candles lit when the tree is unattended. Nor would I leave a small child unattended with a tree full of lit candles. Then again, the Potter boy always got into an inordinate amount of trouble, so perhaps it wasn't entirely his parents' fault."

Snape scowled, recalling that the trouble James Potter got into usually involved himself, and that James usually managed to escape with a slap on the wrist if he received any punishment at all. Everyone always believed the golden boy's word over that of Snape's...well, nearly everyone. Professor De Lacy had of course favored his own House over Gryffindor, and Branwen had never been moved by Potter's charming smile and glib tongue. Then Snape looked over at Lupin, who was laughing with the boys as they decorated the tree, looking as eager and excited about the coming holiday as any of the first-years. His scowl eased into a smile, and his resentment dissipated. James Potter was dead, after all, and Snape was alive and well, with Lupin by his side. The golden boy would probably have a fit if he could see his friend spending Christmas with "that slimy git" and two Slytherin foster sons--in the mansion of one of the oldest Slytherin families in the wizarding world, no less. Snape's smile grew a little wider and smugger; yes, it was shaping up to be a very merry Christmas, indeed.

"A word with you in private, if you please, Severus," Selima said softly, interrupting his thoughts.

Startled, Snape glanced at his mother; her face was set in its usual blank, polite mask, which probably did not bode well for him. He silently groaned and followed his mother out of the room, not wanting to disturb Lupin and the boys, who were still preoccupied with decorating the tree. "Yes, Mother?" he asked warily when they were alone.

"I received a call from Priscilla Parkinson this morning at breakfast," Selima replied. "She was ranting about her granddaughter going to the Yule Ball with a Muggle-born boy. I don't suppose you'd care to shed some light on the subject?"

Snape shrugged. "Perhaps I did hear that some Hufflepuff boy had asked Pansy to the Ball. It's hardly my job to keep track of the students' romances."

"Priscilla seems to feel that as Head of Slytherin, you should have prevented this from happening, or at least informed her of it," Selima said, her face still calm and bland.

Snape snorted. "If I tried to keep track of every flirtation and romance in the school, I would have no time left to teach. So long as the students aren't making out in the halls or sneaking out after hours, it's hardly my concern. It is the Parkinsons' job to decide whom their daughter--or granddaughter--may or may not date. If they have failed as parents to raise an obedient daughter, it is their problem, not mine, and you may tell Priscilla I said so."

To Snape's surprise, his mother smirked and said, "Oh, I will, and take great pleasure in doing so. I cannot tell you how many times Priscilla has chided me--ever so gently and for my own good, of course--for allowing my son to stain the family honor, telling me that it is my duty as a mother to make my son behave properly."

Snape smiled with relief. "Well then, that's settled."

"So what do you really know about the situation, Severus?" Selima asked curiously. "Is this a mere act of rebellion on Pansy's part, or is she truly smitten with this Muggle boy?"

Snape shrugged. "Miss Parkinson suddenly seems to have become quite rebellious, but I don't think she's doing this just to shock her family. Her eye has been roving among the young men at Hogwarts ever since her unofficial engagement with Mr. Malfoy was broken off, and she does not care for any of the candidates her parents are considering as possible replacements. She does not wish to make a loveless marriage for wealth, or so she told one of her friends. And she considers the threat of being disowned an empty one because her brother will inherit the estate, anyway. She declares she is quite able to make her own way in the world, although I suspect she doesn't realize how hard that can be, especially for a pampered pureblood girl. Still, she was brave enough to help fight the Death Eaters during the final battle, and she seems quite determined." Snape tried to look sour, but couldn't quite hide his amusement. "Lupin and Bleddri have been a bad influence on my students. Branwen, too--by her mere presence, she makes the Slytherin girls wonder why they should not become heads of their families instead of their brothers."

"Would it shock you to learn that I have had that same thought myself a time or two?" Selima asked lightly.

"Not really," Snape admitted with a faint smile. "You have been running the Snape family for years, even if Father was the official Lord, and you would have been heir to the Bashir clan if women could inherit the title."

Selima gave him a small smile and inclined her head in acknowledgment; Snape found it a little odd, though not displeasing, to actually be having a pleasant conversation with his mother. "And this Muggle-born boy?" Selima asked, changing the subject. "What is he like?"

Snape shrugged again. "A typical Hufflepuff, serious and hardworking. Clever enough, though not outstandingly so, the way Dylan or Miss Granger are. Miss Parkinson finds him handsome, and was impressed by his bravery during the final battle. They were only supposed to be tending patients in the field hospital, but were forced to fend off a Death Eater attack, and all the students acquitted themselves admirably, according to the Healer and the other wizards who were there with them. Mr. Finch-Fletchley seems quite smitten with Miss Parkinson, but I'm not sure that this is anything more than a passing fancy on Miss Parkinson's part; she doesn't really know him very well outside of class. It could be that if her parents simply hold their peace and wait it out, she might tire of him and move on to someone else. She was infatuated with Dylan--along with nearly every other girl at Hogwarts--only a few months ago, after all. On the other hand, if the Parkinsons forbid her to see him and threaten disownment, it's quite possible that it will only make Mr. Finch-Fletchley into a more appealing and romantic figure. Most of the Slytherin girls are very fond of torrid romance novels and tragic tales of star-crossed lovers."

"Forbidden fruit is more desirable," Selima said with an ironic little smile. "A concept you should be familiar with." Snape scowled, and his mother said, "Peace, Severus; I meant no offense. We have called a truce, have we not--you and Lupin and I?"

"Yes, Mother," Snape said, relaxing a little. It was something of a miracle, after all, that she had accepted Lupin's presence in his life, and invited the werewolf to spend the holidays at Snape Manor. "But I do not desire Lupin because he is forbidden." He paused, then added, more honestly, "At least, that is not the only reason." He half-expected her to ask what other reasons there might be, but she merely looked thoughtful and said nothing. Actually, she and Lupin had been getting along fairly well recently, and Snape wondered once again what had transpired between them the day of his father's funeral.

Selima blinked, and the thoughtful look vanished from her face. "Let us go check on the others," she said briskly, "and see what they have done with the tree. I hope that the Professor has better taste than most of his fellow Gryffindors. Then again, I suppose he can't really do any damage since he's using our decorations. Do you know that I once saw a tree belonging to a Gryffindor family that was decorated solely with lion-shaped ornaments and red and gold tinsel?"

"Lupin has better taste than most Gryffindors," Snape assured his mother. Then he remembered Lupin's red, lion-printed pajamas, but decided that they reflected more on Dumbledore's poor taste than Lupin's, since they had been a gift from the Headmaster.

"Ah, there you are," Lupin said with a smile, as Snape and his mother returned to the drawing room. "We're just about done; you missed all the fun!"

Selima looked over the tree, nodded approvingly, and said, "Well done." It seemed that despite Lupin's questionable Gryffindor tastes, the tree met with Lady Snape's exacting standards. The various ornaments and candleholders had been neatly and evenly dispersed over the entire tree, with no empty spaces near the bottom of the tree, which most people tended to overlook, or near the top of the tree, where it was hard to reach without using magic. The candles were distributed evenly among the ornaments, and the ornaments had also been carefully arranged so that no two of the same color hung next to each other.

Lupin and the boys smiled proudly. "Thank you," Lupin said. "There's just one ornament left." He held up a star, which unlike the other ornaments, was not made of glass, but had been carved from a large piece of clear crystal; its facets seemed to shimmer as Lupin tilted it slightly to catch the sunlight falling through the window. "I thought perhaps you would like to do the honors, Lord Snape," Lupin said, holding out the star. Snape took it and placed it on the tree; by standing on his toes and stretching his arm up, he could just barely reach the top of the tree without resorting to magic. "There!" Lupin said with satisfaction. "Now it's complete."

"Can we light the candles?" Dylan asked.

Selima smiled; she seemed to be in a remarkably good mood, and Snape wondered whether it was due to the holidays or the gossip they'd shared about the Parkinsons. Well, one shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth, he supposed. "We can light them tonight after dinner," Selima said. "It needs to be dark in order to get the full effect."

Vorcher took the empty boxes back up to the attic, and Lupin, Snape, and the boys unpacked their gifts and placed them beneath the tree. Theodore and Dylan couldn't help but notice that some of the gifts Lupin unpacked had their names on them.

"Hmm," Dylan said thoughtfully, shaking one box, which failed to make any noise. "I wonder what it is?"

"Maybe you shouldn't do that," Theodore said half-jokingly. "Remember what happened to Aric when he shook that booby-trapped present!"

"I don't think that Remus would give me a Porvora for Christmas," Dylan said with a grin.

"No peeking," Lupin admonished sternly, shaking a finger at his sons. "You'll just have to wait until Christmas to find out what they are!" But despite his stern tone of voice, his blue eyes glinted with laughter.

"Yes, Remus," the two boys chorused meekly, then grinned at each other.

"I see Hermione gave you a present, Severus," Lupin said pleasantly.

"Yes," Snape said gruffly. "Something utterly useless, no doubt--more knitting, probably."

"I thought the scarf she gave you last year was quite handsome," Lupin said sweetly. "And it would come in handy if, say, we decided to have a snowball fight or build a snowman on the lawn."

Snape snorted. "You may indulge in such childish pastimes if you wish, Lupin, but I have no intention of building a snowman or participating in a snowball fight. In fact, I intend to spend as much time as possible indoors, where it is dry and warm, like any sensible person would."

Lupin smiled nostalgically. "But Severus and I had a splendid snowball fight once, back in fifth year," he told the boys.

"Really?!" they exclaimed, having difficulty picturing that scene.

Snape snorted again. "Lupin started it," he said defensively.

"Well, yes," Lupin admitted. "But you cheated."

Snape smirked. "I told you not to throw that thing at me; you were fairly warned, Lupin. Never mess with a Slytherin."

Dylan and Theodore looked intrigued, so Lupin had to explain the story of how he had thrown a snowball at Snape, who had retaliated by using magic to create a huge snowball that was as big as Lupin. The boys laughed, then glanced out the window at the snow-covered grounds of the Snape estate. "Can we go outside after we get unpacked, Professor?" Dylan asked Snape eagerly.

Snape glanced at his mother, expecting her to object to having something so undignified as a snowball fight to take place on the grounds. Nor had there ever been a snowman built at Snape Manor in Snape's memory, although his mother had once commissioned an artist to create an ice sculpture on the lawn for a Christmas party. But to his surprise, Selima just shrugged and said, "I suppose it's all right. Just don't build any anatomically correct snowmen like your father did."

"You know about that?" Dylan asked, startled.

Selima smiled. "Indeed; gossip has always traveled quickly in the wizarding world. I believe Evan got a week's detention, and his father was furious, although I think his mother was secretly a little amused."

"Anatomically correct snowmen?" Theodore asked, raising his eyebrows.

"A snowman and a snow-woman, to be exact," Snape said dryly. Dylan and Theodore laughed.

"We'll behave ourselves, Grandmother," Theodore promised with a smile.

"Good," Selima said. "Just make sure you're back inside in time for lunch at noon."

They went upstairs and got unpacked, although Snape suspected that the boys had done only a cursory job of it, considering the haste with which they finished and ran outside, their footsteps clomping noisily as they hurried down the stairs. But Snape felt pleased to see them acting like normal children, eager to play in the snow, so he held his peace and didn't scold them.

Lupin, ever the child at heart, stared after them so wistfully that Snape said, "Oh, go on! I'll finish unpacking."

"Thanks, Sev!" Lupin said gratefully, without even a token protest. "But wouldn't you like to join us?"

"No," Snape said firmly. "The three of you can go catch pneumonia if you wish. As I said, I prefer to stay dry and warm; I shall sit by the fire and catch up on my reading."

"As you wish," Lupin said, looking a little disappointed. He threw on an outer robe of thick, waterproofed wool, put on a pair of wool gloves, and wrapped a scarf around his neck. "I think I'll stop by the kitchen on my way out, and pick up some coal and a carrot for the snowman."

Snape looked at his half-unpacked suitcase and caught a flash of green amidst his black garments; he looked more closely and saw that it was the scarf that Granger had given him for Christmas two years ago. "I don't know how the blasted thing got in here," Snape said gruffly, throwing the scarf at Lupin, "but here, you can use it for your snowman, since I'll never wear it."

"Thanks, Sev," Lupin repeated with a grin, and ran out of the room.

Snape finished unpacking, lit the fireplace in his room with a flick of his wand, and settled down in the chair beside it with his book. It was a rare Potions text that he had recently obtained, but he hadn't had much time to read it, between his teaching duties, his mother's dinner party, and the attack on Aric. He had been looking forward to finding some quiet time to read it during the holidays, and opened the book with a quiet sigh of satisfaction. But strangely enough, he couldn't seem to concentrate, and he had to keep flipping the pages back, because he couldn't remember what he had just read a minute ago. He glanced over at the closed window just as a snowball hit it, causing the glass to rattle in its frame.

Snape set aside the book, strode across the room, and flung the window open. "My mother will have a fit if you break the window, Lupin!" he called down, certain that his sons would have better sense than to do such a thing.

The werewolf grinned up at him, his robes and hair covered with clumps of snow. "Come on out and play, Severus!" Lupin called. "I need some help out here--two against one just isn't fair!" Theodore and Dylan laughed; they did not have nearly so much so much snow on their robes.

Snape leaned out the window, smirking, suddenly feeling much more cheerful. "You need to get over your Gryffindor notions of fairness, Lupin," he retorted. "A Slytherin never plays fair."

"Believe it or not, Severus," Lupin said with a mischievous gleam in his eyes, "I have learned from past experience." And Snape noticed too late that Lupin was holding another snowball in one of his hands; before the Potions Master had a chance to step back from the window, Lupin whipped the snowball up and hit Snape square in the face.

Snape spluttered and wiped the snow from his face, and looked down to see Lupin laughing triumphantly. "Surely your Slytherin pride won't let you pass up that challenge!" Lupin shouted.

Dylan and Theodore just stood there, their eyes wide and round with shock, and they gazed at Snape apprehensively, waiting to see what he would do to Lupin. But then, they were Slytherins, which meant that they had much more sense than their Gryffindor foster father. Snape was pleased to note that the werewolf had not completely corrupted them.

Snape pulled out his wand and gave Lupin a sinister smile. "On the contrary, Lupin, it seems that you have learned nothing from our past encounter." He raised his wand and began chanting an incantation.

"Hey!" Lupin protested. "That's cheating!"

Snape didn't bother to dignify that remark with a response. Theodore and Dylan bolted for cover as a huge pile of snow slid off the roof of the mansion and buried the werewolf beneath it. Snape smiled smugly at the mound of snow, but when Lupin didn't immediately emerge from it, the boys approached, looking worried.

"Remus?" Theodore called. "Are you all right?"

"Do you think he was knocked unconscious?" Dylan asked anxiously. "Maybe we should dig him out."

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Snape cautioned, but it was too late. As boys knelt down to dig at the pile of snow, Lupin's arms suddenly shot out, grabbed the startled boys, and pulled them down into the snow with him. Snape sighed and shook his head. "You ought to be ashamed," he said, "letting a Gryffindor trick you so easily!" The boys sat up, wiping snow from their faces, and grinned sheepishly. "Well, he is rather sneaky for a Gryffindor," Snape conceded.

Lupin jumped up and shook himself off, rather like a dog--or wolf. "You shouldn't scold them, Severus," he laughed. "After all, you fell for that trick easily enough when we were boys!"

"I was young and foolish then," Snape said. He sighed, pretending to be annoyed. "I see that I shall have to come down and lend Mr. Rosier and Mr. Snape the benefit of my years of accumulated wisdom and experience."

"Hey, wait a minute!" Lupin protested indignantly. "You were supposed to be helping ME!"

Snape grinned at him wickedly. "It seems that the boys need my help more. Besides, do you honestly expect me to side against my own House?" He stepped away from the window, ignoring Lupin's continued protests, which could barely be heard over the boys' laughter, and paused only long enough to throw on a cloak and pull on a pair of gloves before Apparating down to join his lover and sons on the lawn.

Lupin fought bravely, like a good Gryffindor, but was no match for three Slytherins, and soon found himself buried under a merciless onslaught of snowballs. "Enough!" he laughed, spitting snow out of his mouth; he was covered with so much snow that he was barely recognizable, with just a few patches of black robe and brown hair showing beneath a thick layer of white. "I give up! I cry mercy!"

"Slytherins have no mercy," Snape informed him with a wicked grin, but nevertheless broke off his attack, and the boys came over to help Lupin dust the snow off his robes. The werewolf shook himself off vigorously once more, splattering Theodore and Dylan in the process.

"Hey!" Dylan protested with a laugh, throwing up an arm to ward off the spray of snow.

"It's worse than having a pet dog," Snape grumbled good-naturedly.

The snowball fight had been quite strenuous, and by now everyone was ready to move on to the more sedate task of snowman-building, although Lupin insisted, over Snape's complaints, that they do it by hand instead of using magic. "What's the point, otherwise?" Lupin asked.

"What's the point in doing unnecessary work?" Snape retorted, but gave in and helped build the snowman, enjoying himself immensely even though he complained loudly the entire time. With the four of them working together, it didn't really take that much effort to build a small snowman, with charcoal eyes and mouth, a carrot nose, and the green scarf wrapped around its neck. Inspired, Dylan and Theodore decided to sculpt a snow-snake next, curved in an "S" shape beside the snowman. They used two pieces of leftover charcoal for the eyes, and Dylan, catching sight of a small, forked twig lying on the ground, had a sudden flash of inspiration and used it as the snake's tongue.

"Very artistic, Mr. Rosier," Snape said approvingly. "Remind me to give Slytherin five extra points when we go back to school."

The boys grinned proudly at each other, and Lupin shaded his eyes with one hand as he looked up towards the sun. "I think it's almost lunchtime," he said. "We'd better go in and get cleaned up before Lady Selima scolds us for being late."

***

Selima gazed out of one of the upstairs windows, unnoticed by her son and his companions as she watched them play in the snow together. It was an extremely odd sight, to see her dour and sullen son laughing and throwing snowballs at the werewolf as if he were no older than Dylan and Theodore. She could not recall ever seeing him do such a thing as a child, but then, he'd had no siblings and few playmates as a young boy, and besides, Severin had not approved of children shouting and running wild around the estate. He had always found the Rosiers' visits to the estate annoying, mostly due to Evan, who had been nowhere near as quiet and obedient as Severus. And then Selima suddenly remembered how magical and exotic snow had seemed to a young girl who had lived mainly in a desert country before moving to England. Her parents, like Severin, had not approved of such nonsense as snowball fights, but she'd had the opportunity to play in the snow once she started going to Hogwarts...

***

She was walking across the courtyard one morning in December during her first year. Cynric Diggory, then a mischievous second-year boy, was hiding behind a pillar with a stack of snowballs, waiting for unsuspecting victims to stroll by. Before she knew what had happened, Selima was struck in the back of the head with a snowball, and she stumbled and fell forward in the snow. Cynric burst out laughing, and Anya Gravenor, Selima's yearmate, hurried forward to help her up and brush the snow from her robes. "That was mean, Cynric Diggory!" Anya shouted.

Cynric, who had not yet discovered the charms of women, just laughed at his future wife. "And what're you going to do about it, little girl?" he asked, but there was no real malice in his grin.

Selima drew herself up, straightening her spine and attempting to project an air of dignity. "Nothing right now," she replied coolly before Anya could answer. "But I will remember this incident."

A tall, black-haired boy, a handsome third-year Slytherin named Prospero, approached the trio of younger students and gave Selima a smile that held both amusement and respect. "You should apologize, Cynric," he said. "I sense that this young lady would make a dangerous enemy. Besides, a gentleman should never be so rude to a lady."

Anya sniffed disdainfully. "And is he a gentleman?"

"Of course!" Cynric said indignantly. "I am the heir to one of the wealthiest and most respected pureblood families in the wizarding world!"

"Then act like it," Prospero said sternly, and placed his hand on top of the younger boy's head and pushed down.

Cynric did not fight him, but allowed Prospero to propel him forward into a bow, and even added a little courtly flourish by placing one hand over his heart. "I apologize most deeply for my rude behavior, ladies. Can you find it in your hearts to forgive me?"

Anya giggled, and Selima replied lightly, "This once I shall forgive you, sir." It would not do to make an enemy of a member of such a prominent family, after all.

The boys laughed good-naturedly. "Perhaps we should allow the ladies a chance at revenge?" Prospero suggested. "A snowball fight, girls versus boys."

"No fair!" Anya objected. "The two of you are bigger and stronger than us!"

Cynric looked pleased and flattered by that statement, and seemed to stand a little taller; Prospero looked amused by his reaction. "You are correct, Lady Anya," he said keeping up his courtly demeanor. "So why don't you partner with Cynric, and I shall partner with Lady Selima, and help her take her revenge on this rogue!"

***

And that was how she had met her three closest friends at Hogwarts. Prospero had been a bit of a clown, and rarely took things seriously, but even so, Selima had still been flattered that the older boy had not only defended her, but had known her name when she was, after all, merely a first-year from a family of no importance--at least, not by the standards of the snobbish Slytherin elite. She remembered how cold and crisp the air had been that day, remembered the exhilaration she had felt (enhanced slightly by the thrill of indulging in a game forbidden at home) as she flung snowballs at her companions, not minding at all the cold wetness of the snow, not even when it trickled down her neck or seeped through her wool robes as it melted. Her parents would not have approved, but they had not been there to forbid it, and she had rationalized that she was forming alliances with children from three old pureblood families.

She felt tears sting her eyes, and she closed them until the sensation died away, telling herself that it was foolish to go maudlin over a simple childhood memory. When she opened her eyes and looked out the window again, Severus and the others had abandoned their snowball fight, and were building a snowman on the lawn. She watched the four of them laugh together, watched Lupin affectionately brush some snow off Dylan's hair, watched Severus pat Theodore on the shoulder when the snowman was completed, and suddenly she recalled what Lupin had told her on the day of the funeral: "It's too late to forge the kind of close relationship the Weasleys have with their children; that needs to be built up over a lifetime." She had never before desired that kind of close relationship with her son, but as she stared through the window, watching Severus interact with his own son and foster son, she felt a sudden pang of regret for lost opportunities, for what-might-have-been. What would her life be like if she had married Prospero? Perhaps then she would not have closed off her heart, and Severus would have had a loving mother and father...except that Severus would not be Severus if she had married Prospero.

She told herself that it was Prospero's fault that she had not been able to love Severus as a mother should, but a niggling little voice in her head told her that she was not being completely honest. There had been one moment in her marriage when she had felt something akin to passion, something that was almost affection, the night that she and Severin had been elated over his promotion, the night that they had conceived Severus. She realized now that if she and Severin had tried, they might have been able to build a real marriage together, but they had let the moment pass, and returned to their comfortable, impersonal routine, their lives running on a parallel course--living alongside each other, yet always apart. She had told herself that there was nothing left for her but duty after she and Prospero parted, but that was not entirely true--there had still been room in her heart for Anya, her childhood friend. Perhaps if she had tried harder, she could have loved Severus, too. And even if she was incapable of love, she could have protected him better. For the first time, she truly felt remorse for not protecting Severus from his father's punishments, for doing nothing when he had been accused of being a Death Eater. She had told herself that it was her duty to obey her husband, but it was also a mother's duty to protect her child. She had made the choice to follow the path of duty and marry Severin, after all--as bitter as that choice was, and as limited as her options were, it had still been her own choice--while Severus had never chosen to be born into a pureblood family, to parents who were bound to each other by duty and politics, not love. No more than Selima had chosen to be born into a family that saw her as nothing more than a pawn to be bartered off to gain an advantageous marriage alliance.

She suddenly felt very weary, and leaned against the window for support, the glass cold beneath her cheek and hands. She gazed down at her son and whispered, "I'm sorry," although she knew that he could not hear her. She wasn't sure if she would ever have the courage to say it to his face.

She just stood there, leaning against the glass for--she did not know how long; most likely several minutes, although it felt like hours--until an anxious voice said, "M-Mistress?" Startled, Selima turned around to see a worried-looking Vorcher standing in the doorway. "Is the Mistress ill?" the house-elf asked.

"No, I am fine," Selima said briskly. "I am--a little tired, that is all."

"Shall Vorcher prepare some tea for the Mistress?"

"Yes, thank you," Selima replied distractedly, not noticing that she had thanked a servant who wasn't supposed to warrant thanks. Nor did she notice that Vorcher looked even more worried by her response, because she was looking out the window again; Lupin seemed to be indicating to the others that they should head back to the house. "And prepare some hot cider as well," Selima added, turning back towards the house-elf. "Likely Severus, Professor Lupin, and the boys will be chilled after spending so much time in the snow all morning."

"Yes, Mistress," Vorcher said, bowing. "Vorcher will see to it at once. And lunch will be ready in five minutes, Mistress."

"Good," Selima said. "You may bring the tea and cider, along with lunch, to the dining room as scheduled."

***

Lupin, Snape, and the boys ran up to their rooms and stripped off wet outer robes, cloaks, gloves, and scarves; cast a few quick drying spells; then hurried downstairs to the dining room just as the clock struck noon. They were pleasantly surprised to find Vorcher not only serving lunch, but setting out mugs of hot, steaming cider.

Lupin cradled a mug in his hands, taking a moment simply to appreciate the heat seeping into his still-cold hands. Then he took a sip of the cider and sighed with satisfaction as the warmth spread through the rest of his body. "Ah, Vorcher, this really hits the spot!" he said gratefully. "Thank you very much."

Vorcher smiled, looking pleased. "You're welcome, Master Lupin. It was the Mistress's idea."

Lupin smiled at Selima. "Then, I must thank you also, Lady Selima. It was a kind thought."

Selima looked embarrassed, and Snape quipped, "There's no need to be so offensive, Lupin. Most Slytherins consider 'kind' an insult rather than a compliment."

Lupin laughed. "I assure you, Lady Selima, no offense was intended!"

"Then I shall take none, Professor," Selima said, graciously inclining her head. "Although I would consider it more practicality than kindness--I would not wish the Lord or his heir to catch a cold, after all."

"Of course not," Lupin said gravely, although his eyes were still sparkling with laughter. "But you need not have worried, since I suffered the brunt of the attack in our snowball fight. I'm afraid that one Gryffindor werewolf is no match for three wily Slytherins." The three Slytherins exchanged wicked grins.

"That goes without saying," Selima replied, and everyone laughed, including Lupin. "Well, go ahead and eat," Selima added, "before the food gets cold."

Lunch was surprisingly simple fare (at least by Snape Manor standards), and was perfect after a morning spent playing in the snow: hot soup and fresh bread, still warm from the oven. There was sweet, creamy butter to go with the bread, and also platters of sliced cheese and fruit on the side. Snape, Lupin, Theodore, and Dylan all ate heartily, having worked up an appetite from their snowball fight and snowman-building, and did not notice at first that Lady Selima seemed oddly subdued.

It was Lupin, of course, who finally did notice that while the rest of them were almost finished eating, Selima's bowl of soup was still more than half-full, and that she was absent-mindedly shredding a slice of bread into crumbs without eating any of it.

"Lady Selima?" he asked in a concerned voice. "Are you all right?"

She looked up, startled, and dropped the remainder of the bread onto her plate. "Of course, Professor," she replied. "Why do you ask?"

"It's just that you've barely touched your food," Lupin said. "I was wondering if you might be feeling ill."

By now, Snape, Theodore, and Dylan were staring at Selima as well, and she looked a little flustered, then gained control of herself again. "Of course not," Selima replied in her usual cool voice. "I'm just not very hungry at the moment. After all, I didn't spend all morning running around in the snow like the rest of you."

Snape, who had begun to look worried, relaxed and said, "Mother has better sense than you, Lupin."

"You were running around in the snow, too, Severus," Lupin pointed out with a smile.

"Only to protect the boys from you," Snape retorted.

"They were the ones ganging up on me!" Lupin protested as Theodore and Dylan laughed.

"You know, Severus," Selima said, changing the subject, "now that Theodore is your heir, we should consider introducing him into society."

"Not more dinner parties!" Snape groaned.

"He needs to begin building alliances and forming connections," Selima said firmly.

"He's already doing that at school," Snape argued desperately, "by socializing with his classmates."

"All well and good, Severus, but we should also be making allies of their parents. And there are other pureblood families whose children do not attend Hogwarts--"

"It's his final year at Hogwarts!" Snape insisted. "He needs to concentrate on his N.E.W.T.s!"

Theodore glanced nervously back and forth from his father to his grandmother, who both looked equally stubborn and determined. "Um...perhaps we could keep the socializing minimal until I graduate?" he suggested diffidently. "Then maybe later, in the summer..."

"Well, perhaps you're right," Selima conceded. "Your N.E.W.T.s are important, but you will also find that well-placed connections can be more valuable than good grades."

"Yes, Grandmother," Theodore said meekly. "But the Snape family does already have some valuable allies: Harry Potter, the Weasleys, the Donners, and Professor Blackmore and her husband." If he felt any distaste about claiming certain Gryffindors as allies, he kept it well hidden.

"True," Selima agreed, looking much calmer. "I suppose we can keep the socializing minimal for now." She turned to her son and added sternly, "But not cut it off entirely. You cannot afford to be a recluse the way your father was if you want your son to hold a proper position in society."

"Yes, Mother," Snape growled reluctantly.

"And after Theodore finishes school," Selima added happily, "we can hold a graduation party for him!"

Lupin smiled, looking amused, and Snape repressed a groan. They had won a temporary reprieve, but had only delayed the inevitable. Theodore did not look entirely happy about the prospect of parties and socializing, but he seemed resigned to it, and not nearly as dismayed as Snape was. But then, as a Nott, he had taken part in such socializing and political maneuvering for all of his young life, doing his duty as a pureblood heir even if he did not particularly enjoy it. He took it for granted, the way most of his peers did, and was really much better suited to being the Snape heir than Snape himself had been.

"I would be honored, Grandmother," Theodore said politely, and Selima gave him an approving smile. And in the end, Selima agreed to hold no parties during the holidays, although she intended to invite some of her acquaintances over for tea. It was agreed that if Snape would greet her guests politely as the Lord of the Manor should, he would be allowed to excuse himself from the actual tea, pleading a heavy workload of preparing lesson plans and tending to the affairs of the estate. A private feast for the family only would be held on Christmas Eve, since Snape, Lupin, and the boys would be attending the Yule Ball on Christmas night. Snape and his mother relaxed and finished their meals, having achieved a bargain that was satisfactory to both sides. Snape mused to himself that perhaps he did inherit some of his mother's merchant instincts, after all.

The rest of the day passed by peacefully: Selima went out to do some shopping; Dylan and Theodore went to the library to read more of the old Snape histories, and later played some chess; and while Lady Snape was gone and the boys were preoccupied, Snape and Lupin locked themselves in their room and made love. By the time Selima returned home, Snape and Lupin were dressed and decorously sipping tea in the drawing room with the boys, the very picture of respectability. Dressed in the expensive dark blue robe Snape had given him one Christmas, with his gold-and-silver hair pulled back into a neat tail, Lupin could have passed for a pureblood Lord himself, if one had not known his true identity. Perhaps they looked a little too respectable, because Selima gave them a suspicious look, but she joined them for tea without comment.

Later that night after dinner, they went to the drawing room, and as promised, Selima lit the Christmas tree candles with a sweeping wave of her wand. Each facet of the crystal star at the top of the tree reflected and magnified the dim flames of the candles, sending a blaze of light through the darkened room.

Lupin, Theodore, and Dylan gasped in awe. "It's so beautiful!" Lupin exclaimed.

This sight was familiar to Snape, of course, but he had never really appreciated it until now. Christmases at Snape Manor had not been particularly happy occasions for him as a child; they had merely been another excuse for his mother to throw one of her parties and do more political maneuvering. But seeing the awe and delight on the faces of his lover and sons made Snape regard the tree in a new light. Even Lady Selima was smiling slightly, looking almost mellow--a dramatic change from her normal stiff, dignified manner, although a stranger probably would not have noticed the difference. He wondered if it could be possible that even Selima was not immune to being infected by the werewolf's Gryffindor sentimentality.

"Yes, Lupin," Snape said softly. "It is beautiful."

Selima lit a fire in the fireplace, and they sat in the drawing room together, admiring the tree. Vorcher served them mulled wine and squares of freshly-baked gingerbread cake topped with dollops of whipped cream. He then quietly retreated to the far corner of the room, waiting unobtrusively to clear away the dishes when they were done, or to obey any other instructions the Master or Mistress might give. Even the house-elf looked blissfully content as he gazed not just at the tree, but at the five humans in the room. They said little as they sipped their wine and ate their gingerbread, but the silence seemed comfortable rather than awkward.

Part 49