FIC: Aftermaths, Part 59

[geri_chan]

Title: Aftermaths, Part 59
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: ~10,070
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: Theodore's injury changes things between Snape and Selima; the Aurors prove nearly as troublesome as the pranksters.

Part 58 (Previous chapters can be found under the aftermaths tag.)

***

Pomfrey threw Snape and Lupin out of the hospital wing, because she needed to concentrate to cast her healing spells, and she said she couldn't do that with them nervously pacing back and forth while asking, "Is he going to be all right?" every few minutes. So instead, they paced back and forth out in the hallway.

Suddenly Selima ran up, gasping for breath. Her black eyes were frantic, and her golden skin probably would have been pale with fear if it hadn't been flushed because she had just run straight from the Pitch to the castle. Lady Snape did not look at all cool and dignified; her face was red and sweaty, and her hair was starting to come loose from the combs that were pinning it back. Snape had never seen his mother in such a state, and he stared at her in shock, distracted from his worries for just a second.

"Is he all right?" Selima gasped, still sounding short of breath.

"We don't know," Lupin replied quietly. "Madam Pomfrey is working on him right now. It was a serious injury, requiring a major healing spell. She said that the Bludger fractured his skull."

"Then shouldn't we take him to St. Mungo's, if it's that bad?" Selima demanded.

"Madam Pomfrey is a very capable Healer," Lupin said, with what was considerable patience under the circumstances. "And moving him could worsen the injury."

"Then we should have St. Mungo's send a Healer here!" Selima said.

"Poppy will let us know if she needs help," Lupin said. "She won't place her pride over a student's safety. And it might be dangerous to interrupt her while she's casting the healing spell."

Selima couldn't argue with that, so she joined Lupin and Snape in their pacing outside the hospital wing. A couple of minutes later, Lukas and Prospero arrived with Dylan and Blaise. "They insisted on seeing Theodore," Lukas said with a small smile. "It seemed easier to let them come than to argue with them about it. Your students are very stubborn, Severus."

"Is he going to be all right?" Blaise asked, moving towards the door, but his grandfather held him back with a gentle but firm hand on his shoulder when Lupin stepped in front of the door, blocking his path.

"Madam Pomfrey is tending to him right now," Lupin said, trying to smile reassuringly, but the failed attempt only alarmed Dylan and Blaise even more. "We can't interrupt her until she's done casting her spells."

"He will be all right," Snape said in a grim voice, his face cold and implacable, "or I will personally eviscerate whoever was responsible for today's little prank. Slowly. VERY slowly."

"I'm sorry," Lukas said quietly, looking unusually subdued. "You were right; it was a bad idea to use the match to lure out the prankster. We should have just canceled it."

Before Snape could reply, the door to the hospital wing opened, and a very weary-looking Madam Pomfrey emerged.

"How is he?" everyone exclaimed at once.

Pomfrey smiled, looking tired but satisfied. "He needs a few days of bed rest, and he shouldn't do anything strenuous for at least a week, but he'll be fine. He's sleeping now, but you can come in for a few minutes." She gave the crowd a stern look. "So long as you're quiet and don't disturb him."

Snape, Lupin, Selima, Dylan, and Blaise hurried into the room; Lukas and Prospero hung back a little, not wanting to intrude. Theodore lay on the bed, looking paler than usual, his black hair providing a stark contrast to his white skin. There was no visible sign of injury on him, though, and his breathing sounded even and steady, not labored. Lupin reached out with a trembling hand, and very gently brushed the boy's hair back from his face. "Thank Merlin," Lupin whispered fervently; Snape just let out a shaky sigh of relief.

Suddenly Theodore's eyelids fluttered, blinking weakly a few times before they finally opened fully. "Remus," he whispered, as his gaze slowly focused on the faces looking down at him. "Father. Grandmother."

Without warning, Selima burst into tears, sobbing hysterically. Snape stared at her in shock for a few moments, then very slowly and hesitantly reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder. Selima moved closer and leaned against him, as if that tentative gesture was an invitation, or perhaps it was simply that she would have collapsed otherwise. Snape looked even more shocked, and incredibly uncomfortable, but he didn't push her away, and his arm seemed to move forward of its own accord to encircle her shoulders.

Lupin smiled, then bent down to kiss Theodore gently on the forehead. "I'll come check on you later, Theo," he said casually. "I'm going to go talk to the Headmaster and see if they've found out anything about the Dark Mark that was cast at the match." He winked at Theodore, a mischievous grin on his face, and Theodore managed a faint smile in response.

"I'll bring you some candy when you're feeling better," Dylan promised, grinning as well, and left the room with Lupin.

Blaise hesitated, knowing that he should give the Professor and his mother some privacy, but not wanting to leave his lover's side. Prospero placed a hand on his shoulder and said gently, "Come, Blaise. We promised Madam Pomfrey that we wouldn't stay long. You know that Theodore's all right, and that's the main thing."

"You can come visit him again later," Pomfrey said kindly.

Blaise nodded, said goodbye to Theo, and followed his grandfather out of the room. Prospero glanced back at Selima before he left, an affectionate and wistful smile on his face. Lukas left as well, and Pomfrey retreated to her office, leaving Snape, Selima, and Theodore alone together.

***

Snape just stood there, feeling stiff and awkward as his mother wept against his chest. He had never seen her weep before--not even at her friend Anya's funeral, nor at Lucien and Vanessa Malfoy's. Snape had attended both funerals with his parents, and remembered his mother's face being set in a blank, rigid mask. He had not been surprised by her apparent coldness at the time, but now he realized that she must have been hiding her feelings--as Snape had hid his own for so many years. Maybe she had wept in private; maybe she had never allowed herself to weep. She must have wept on the day of his father's funeral, because her face had been streaked with tears when he had found her in the study with Lupin, but still, Snape had never actually seen her cry--until today.

Maybe he should have felt resentful that she loved Theodore enough to weep for him, as she had never wept for her own son, but all he felt was an overwhelming sense of relief that Theodore would be all right. Everything else seemed insignificant by comparison. Unconsciously, Snape's hand gripped Selima's shoulder a little tighter, and he suddenly felt faint as the full realization of just how close Theodore had come to dying hit him. For a moment, Selima was supporting Snape just as much as he was supporting her, and mother and son clung to each other, briefly united in combined fear and relief.

Theodore smiled, still looking weak and groggy. Madam Pomfrey had given him a potion to dull the pain of his injury; its main ingredient was poppy juice, and ironically, its narcotic properties gave it an unintended side effect that was remarkably similar to the Potion of Liberation. "I'm glad you two aren't fighting anymore," he whispered.

Selima stopped sobbing, and she and Snape looked down at Theodore, both looking equally startled and guilty. Then Selima glanced up at Snape and asked, "He heard us, that night?"

"Yes," Snape replied, flushing. He quickly added, "But everything's all right now, Theodore. You don't have to worry."

"Good," Theodore said sleepily, and smiled up at the two of them trustingly, with none of his usual cynicism or guardedness, which made him look much younger than his years. Selima and Snape looked at each other again, both feeling shaken and humbled, and acutely aware that now they really would have to find some way to make their fragile truce permanent. Snape suddenly realized that he still had his arm around his mother's shoulders; he started to remove it, then on second thought, left it where it was, telling himself that it might upset Theodore if he suddenly pushed Selima away from him.

Theodore's eyes slowly closed, and he seemed to drift back into sleep, still smiling. Snape and Selima remained as they were, almost afraid to move or speak, for fear of saying or doing the wrong thing and starting another argument that might push the other away from them, perhaps permanently this time. Neither did they have any idea how to begin mending the rift between them.

After what seemed like an eternity, but was actually about ten or fifteen minutes, Lukas returned. "Excuse me, Severus," he said apologetically, and Snape and Selima jumped a little, and finally moved apart from each other. "I'm sorry to bother you," the werewolf continued, "but I think you had better come to the Headmaster's office. Those Aurors--not your purple-haired friend, but the other two--are ranting about a Death Eater attack and threatening to close the school, but Mr. Potter and Dumbledore are trying to tell them that the Dark Mark was not a real one. I didn't quite understand, but they are insisting that it was not authentic, that it didn't look like the one that the Death Eaters used to cast..."

"Of course!" Snape suddenly exclaimed, suddenly recalling what had bothered him about the image of the glowing skull. "They're right; it's not a true Morsmordre spell, but someone trying to imitate it." He turned to his mother. "Will you stay here with Theodore? I don't want to leave him alone."

"Of course," Selima replied.

"I'll stay, too," Lukas offered. "Hooch says that the Bludger wasn't hexed and that it probably only hit Theodore by accident, and I don't think that anyone would try to attack him here in the hospital wing, but it's better to be safe than sorry. I promise I will guard your cub with my life."

"Thank you," Snape said, not wanting to leave, but feeling a little better about it. Theodore should be well protected with a werewolf and a sorceress versed in the Dark Arts guarding him. "I'll be back as soon as I can."

***

Dumbledore's office was crowded with anxious teachers and angry Aurors--and one student. "And I suppose you're an expert on Death Eater spells, boy!" Williamson was saying sarcastically.

"I'm telling you," Harry retorted, looking angry and frustrated, "it's not the same as the one that was cast at the Quidditch World Cup! That skull was made up of green sparks, while this one looked solid, and the one at the World Cup was a darker green, too!"

"The boy is correct," Snape said coldly as he swept into the room, his black robes swirling around him. Harry stared at him in shock, looking surprised to hear Snape actually agreeing with him for once. "The spell was obviously some sort of illusion or facsimile created by someone who's never actually seen the real thing."

"Well, I suppose you should know, Snape," Dawlish said, giving Snape a hostile and suspicious look.

Snape just sneered at him in return. "I would have expected an Auror to be more informed than a teenage boy. But then again, Fudge and his lackeys spent more time trying to pretend that the Dark Lord didn't exist than they did trying to actually hunt down the Death Eaters."

Dawlish's face turned red with anger, and Williamson clenched his fists and said, "Why you--!"

"Knock it off, all of you!" Tonks said sharply, stepping between Snape and the Aurors. "Can we agree that it was not a true Morsmordre spell? Severus, as you said, should know, and Albus, Sirius, Branwen, and Harry all concur."

"We saw it often enough in the old days," Branwen said quietly. "It was as Harry described it: a skull with a snake emerging from its mouth, comprised of green sparks."

"Very well," Williamson said sulkily. "That doesn't mean that it isn't a serious threat. It was obviously cast by someone who sympathizes with the Death Eaters--or perhaps someone too young to have seen the actual spell cast." He gave Snape a pointed look. "Say, for instance, the child of a Death Eater..."

"They were victims, too!" Lupin protested. "Some of them were abused by their parents--"

"Right," Williamson said in a tone that said he didn't believe a word Lupin was saying.

"More to the point," Snape interrupted curtly, "all of them, save for Miss Avery, were playing in the match, so they couldn't have conjured the false Dark Mark--I'm sure that someone would have noticed if they tried to cast a spell in the middle of the game. And I'm also certain that Miss Avery's movements can be accounted for. There must be any number of witnesses among the students and parents who can testify that she never left the stands during the match."

"They didn't need to leave to cast the spell!" Dawlish said triumphantly. He motioned to a couple of items lying on Dumbledore's desk: a wand and a lump of melted plastic and metal.

"What is that?" Snape asked.

"It's a Muggle device, a tape recorder," Tonks explained. "Or at least, it used to be. We found it, along with the wand, left up in a tree near where the Dark Mark--er, I mean, the fake Dark Mark--appeared. A Prior Incantato spell revealed that this is the wand used to cast the Mark. I think what happened is that the perpetrator cast a time-delayed spell, probably set to go off when the command word 'Morsmordre' was uttered, which explains the tape recorder. There was also some sort of self-destruct spell cast on the tape recorder, probably to destroy the evidence."

"But why destroy the recorder and leave the wand behind?" Snape asked, feeling puzzled. "It looks like an Ollivander's wand; surely they'd realize that we'll eventually be able to track down the owner."

"The spell appears to have been focused on the wand, so they'd have to leave it behind if they wanted the spell to go off as planned," Tonks replied. "Perhaps the wand was meant to be destroyed along with the tape recorder, but was strong enough to survive the blast. Ollivander's wands are pretty tough."

"That still doesn't make sense," Lupin said, frowning. "All we'd have to do is demand that the students produce their wands, and whoever is missing one would obviously be the culprit. Not to mention that it will be difficult to get by in class without a wand."

"Maybe whoever did it has more than one wand?" Harry suggested.

Dawlish snorted, giving Harry a condescending look. "Your Muggle upbringing shows, Mr. Potter. A wizard chooses his wand with care--"

"Actually, the wand chooses him, according to Mr. Ollivander," Tonks chimed in helpfully.

Dawlish glared at her, then continued, "--because the wand becomes attuned to the wizard. People don't just throw away wands, and they don't normally keep spares."

"But there were broken wands in the junk--I mean, Mr. Zabini's shop in Diagon Alley," Harry argued. "So people do sometimes throw them away."

"Sometimes wands do get broken," Tonks agreed pleasantly before Dawlish could respond, "by accident, through carelessness, or occasionally due to shoddy workmanship. But Ollivander's wands are very well-made and expensive, and it is unusual for someone to just discard one like this."

"This Muggle device proves that it couldn't have been one of my students!" Snape said emphatically, pointing at the ruined tape recorder. "None of them would have a Muggle device or know how to work one!"

"It is true that most of the Slytherins come from families that normally disdain such things," Branwen agreed. "And it's also clear now that a real Death Eater could not have been behind this latest threat--they hated Muggles, and none of them would have sullied their hands by touching a Muggle device."

"Maybe so," Dawlish blustered, "but it's clear that something strange is going on at this school--hexes, threats, Dark Marks! If you can't keep things under control at Hogwarts, Dumbledore, then we'll replace you with someone who can!"

"You are certainly welcome to try," Dumbledore said with a smile, not looking the least bit worried.

"You tried that once before with Umbridge," Snape reminded Dawlish in a silky voice. "And look how well that turned out."

"We'll be speaking to the school governors about this!" Dawlish shouted, then he and Williamson stormed out of the room.

Tonks looked much more upset than Dumbledore. "I'll talk to Arthur, Albus. I'm sure he won't let things go that far."

"I'm not worried about that, Tonks," Dumbledore said, patting her on the shoulder reassuringly. "What I'm concerned about is protecting my students."

"Did anyone recognize that voice?" Harry asked. "The one that shouted the spell--I mean, someone had to record it onto the tape, right? It didn't sound like a student."

"That won't be much help, I'm afraid, Harry," Sirius said. "There are charms people can use to alter their voices."

"They could even have altered the voice on the tape with Muggle technology and no need for magic," Tonks said. "Although probably not with this machine," she added, tapping the half-melted recorder. "It seems like a pretty basic model. I can check with merchants who deal in Muggle objects, and see if we can track down who bought and sold this device. Although they could have bought it on their own from a Muggle shop, which would make it much more difficult to track down the buyer."

"Or they could have bought it on the black market," Snape mused, remembering that Bleddri had once said that his werewolves used to traffic in proscribed Muggle devices.

"Tape recorders aren't on the proscribed list," Tonks said. "But you're right, they could have bought it through unofficial channels."

"We could ask Lukas if he knows of anyone who might be able to help us," Lupin suggested. "Someone dealing in shady goods wouldn't be willing to talk to the Ministry, but they might talk to Lukas or one of his people, if we make it clear that we aren't interested in shutting them down, just in finding out who bought the recorder."

"In the meantime," McGonagall said firmly, "let us see if we can track down the owner of this wand. That should prove the simpler task. We'll go House by House, and have the students produce their wands. If all the students are in possession of their wands, we can ask Mr. Ollivander if he can identify the wand and its owner."

Dumbledore, McGonagall, and several of the other teachers agreed to investigate the students, and Tonks left to report to Arthur, promising to return afterwards to see how the investigation was coming along. "Why don't you and Remus go back to the hospital wing, Severus?" Dumbledore said gently before he left the office. "I know you want to be with Theodore, and I'll send word as soon as we find out anything."

"And perhaps it might be better if you aren't physically present when we do apprehend the culprit, considering the mood you're in," Branwen said with ironic humor. "We would like to turn him or her over to the Ministry in one piece."

Sirius put an arm around his godson in a protective manner and said grimly, "I know what I'd do to anyone who tried to hurt Harry."

Snape smiled without humor and dipped his head in acknowledgment. "Very well, then, but I want to be notified the minute you find out who that wand belongs to."

"Of course, Severus," Branwen said, and turned to leave. Snape noticed that Bane was perched on her shoulder as usual, but he was slumped down almost flat in exhaustion, and looked more like a feather duster than his usual menacing self.

"Is Bane all right?" Snape asked in concern. Bane raised his head slightly and croaked in response.

Branwen smiled and reached up to gently stroke his feathers. "He may have pulled a muscle--or more likely, several--but he'll be fine with a little rest."

Snape searched his pockets, found a piece of candy, unwrapped it and gave it Bane, who perked up slightly. "I'll buy you a box of chocolates at Hogsmeade," he promised, and the raven cawed happily.

"Yes, thank you, Bane!" Lupin said, petting the bird. "You're a real hero--you helped save Theo's life!"

Bane preened, and his mistress laughed. "You'll make him so swell-headed that he won't be able to fit on my shoulder," Branwen joked, but she gave her familiar an affectionate pat. "Go on now; the two of you should get back to the hospital wing."

Snape nodded, and left with Lupin.

***

In the hospital wing, Cyril took a seat near the door, all the way across the room from Theodore's bed, apparently to give Selima some privacy; maybe he was embarrassed because he had seen her crying. He idly flipped through some magazines that had been left lying around the wing, but there was a certain air of alertness and tension about him, and Selima somehow knew that he would be ready to spring into action at the first sign of danger.

It was strangely reassuring to have a werewolf guarding the door, and Selima relaxed a little, pulled up a chair beside Theodore's bed, and sat there quietly, watching her grandson sleep. Such a simple, ordinary thing as watching him sleep peacefully, watching the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed in and out, suddenly seemed like a miracle, a moment to be treasured and cherished. Her husband, if he had been alive, would have laughed at her for being so sentimental, but she no longer cared about that. She reached out and placed her hand over Theodore's.

He blinked and whispered, "Grandmother?"

"I'm sorry, child," Selima said softly. "I didn't mean to wake you. Go back to sleep."

But he did not go back to sleep, although his eyes were only half-open. "Where's Father?" he asked.

"He went to talk to the Headmaster," Selima replied. "He'll be back soon." She started to pull her hand back, but his fingers curled around hers, holding it in place. His grip was weak and she could easily have broken it and pulled away, but she let her hand remain where it was.

"You and Father have really stopped fighting?" he asked anxiously.

"We are not fighting," Selima said, trying to sound reassuring. {At least, not at the moment,} she added silently.

Maybe Theodore picked up on her unspoken words, because he persisted, "You aren't mad at each other?"

His hand tightened around hers a little, and Selima was surprised to see how much her quarrel with Severus must have upset him. She knew that he was devoted to Severus, so she would have expected him to take his father's side and be angry with her, not to look so dismayed, almost frightened. Which meant that...he cared about her as well as Severus. That realization made her tremble a little.

"I am not angry at your father, child," she said. "Although I could not blame him if he were angry at me."

"Because of what Lord Severin did?" Theodore asked.

"Yes," Selima said.

"And because you never tried to stop him."

It wasn't really a question, but Selima whispered, "Yes."

"Why?" Theodore asked. "How could you let him do that to your son?"

His quiet voice, no louder than a whisper, sounded like the voice of her conscience to Selima. She bowed her head and said, "I was taught to obey my husband in all things," but she knew it wasn't really an excuse.

"My mother was scared of my father," Theodore whispered. "Were you scared of Lord Severin?"

"No," Selima replied honestly. "He wasn't like your father--your biological father. He never struck me or threatened me, or even raised his voice to me."

"He never hurt you, but he hurt Father?" Theodore asked, sounding confused.

Selima sighed. "I'm not saying that what he did was right, but he didn't do it just to be cruel, or because he got pleasure out of hurting people. He did it because he believed that swift, strong punishment would prevent further disobedience or mischief. He did it because that was how his parents had disciplined him as a child."

Theodore shuddered. "I'm glad I never met his parents."

"I was not afraid of Severin," Selima said. "I'm not sure what he would have done if I had defied him and tried to intervene on Severus's behalf. He would have been angry, of course, but I don't know if he would have gone so far as to try to hex or curse me. But that was not really what I was afraid of." She never spoke of such things aloud, never even examined them too closely in her own mind, but something in Theodore's eyes seemed to draw the confession out of her. "When I married Severin, I gave up my old life and my chance of love with Prospero. All I had left was my duty to my family, and then to my husband, and my status as Severin's wife." She smiled bitterly. "Duty and status. And if I lost that, if I botched this marriage and disgraced myself and my family, then everything I sacrificed would have been for nothing."

"You were afraid Lord Severin would have divorced you if you defied him?" Theodore asked sympathetically.

"Not exactly," Selima sighed. "I did not let myself feel fear--or love, or anything else but duty and ambition. I was forced into this marriage, but I was resolved not to let it fail. No--I wanted to do more than not fail; I was determined to succeed in my new life. I rejected my former life, told myself that love was a waste of time. I focused all my energy and effort into becoming a proper pureblood wife, into advancing the Snape family and making my husband a powerful man in the wizarding world."

"Did you hate your husband because you had to give up Lord Prospero for him?" Theodore whispered. "Is...is that why you and Father...?"

His voice trailed off, but Selima knew what he meant. "You are asking, is that why I was such a bad mother to Severus?" she said softly. "Did I resent him because I never wanted to marry his father?"

***

Theodore wasn't aware that Lukas was in the room, and Selima seemed to have forgotten that he was there; the two of them were wrapped up in their own little world as Selima talked about her past. Her voice was very soft, but thanks to his enhanced werewolf senses, Lukas was able to pick up every word, and it made him very uncomfortable. He sighed a little as he flipped through a back issue of Witch Weekly, not really concentrating on recipes for pumpkin cookies or gossipy stories about which famous wizards and witches were dating each other. He didn't really want to know about the Snape family's problems, which seemed even more complicated than he had originally thought, because he already had enough of his own. But he couldn't help but notice that for all of Lady Selima's wealth and power, she didn't seem to be a very happy woman. In fact, from what he had just heard, combined with what he already knew, he would say that her life had been a rather bleak and lonely one. Perhaps that was partly her own fault, but still, he felt a little sorry for her. Lukas's parents had had a happy marriage, and he was beginning to understand just how rare that was among the pureblood elite. He was also shocked to hear that she had apparently been in love with Prospero Zabini before marrying Severin Snape; hmm...that might explain a few things, like why Prospero was suddenly taking an interest in an old friend's son. Perhaps it was not just a sense of duty to Cynric that had prompted his visit to Lukas, but the fact that his former lover had taken an interest in Lukas as well.

He heard footsteps coming down the hall, and quietly rose from his seat and peered out the door; neither Selima nor Theodore paid him any heed. He had started to reach for his wand, but saw that it was Snape and Lupin, and let his hand fall back to his side.

***

"How is Theo?" Lupin asked in a hushed voice.

"He's fine," Lukas whispered. "He and Lady Selima are...er...talking."

Something in the werewolf's voice and face put Snape on alert, and instead of announcing himself, he slipped into the room silently and stealthily, like a spy. He saw Selima sitting at Theodore's bedside, holding his hand and talking to him in a quiet voice. His mother was normally a very observant woman, but she didn't seem to notice him approach and duck behind one of the privacy screens that stood beside each bed.

"You were afraid Lord Severin would have divorced you if you defied him?" Theodore was asking. That was something Snape had never considered before; his parents had always presented a united front, and Selima had never seemed afraid of Severin. But status was everything to Selima, and she would certainly have lost all of her considerable status if her husband had divorced her.

"Not exactly," Selima replied. "I did not let myself feel fear--or love, or anything else but duty and ambition. I was forced into this marriage, but I was resolved not to let it fail. No--I wanted to do more than not fail; I was determined to succeed in my new life. I rejected my former life, told myself that love was a waste of time. I focused all my energy and effort into becoming a proper pureblood wife, into advancing the Snape family and making my husband a powerful man in the wizarding world."

Looking more than a little embarrassed, Lukas whispered to Lupin, "Now that you two are back, I'll be going," and hastily fled the room.

Snape paid no attention to him, because Theodore had just asked a question that he very much wanted to hear the answer to: "Did you hate your husband because you had to give up Lord Prospero for him? Is...is that why you and Father...?"

"You are asking, is that why I was such a bad mother to Severus?" Selima said softly. "Did I resent him because I never wanted to marry his father?"

Snape waited for the answer, feeling almost spellbound. He held his breath for a moment, not wanting to make any noise that might distract her.

There was a brief silence, then Selima said, "I did not hate Severin. I resented him a little at first, because his marriage offer ruined any chance I had of marrying Prospero, but he didn't do it on purpose. He didn't know about Prospero; no one did, except for Cynric and Anya. Probably if he had known, he might have reconsidered his proposal, because he wouldn't have wanted a wife who might disgrace him by carrying on an affair behind his back. And besides...deep down, I always knew that Prospero wasn't really Ministry of Magic material, and that my father would probably never consent to our marriage." She sighed. "It was just a foolish childhood dream. I could have hated Severin, but what would be the point, except to make myself more miserable? I was bound to him for life, whether I liked it or not."

"But you didn't love him, either," Theodore said.

"No," Selima agreed, "I didn't. I respected him, and I did my duty to him, that is all. He wasn't the kind of man who invited love, nor did I want to love him--or anyone else, for that matter."

"Including Father?" Theodore asked quietly. It was as if Theodore was voicing Snape's inner thoughts, all the things he had always wondered but never dared to ask.

"I...I..." Selima's voice shook a little as she fought to get the words out, speaking in a hoarse whisper. "I gave up on love to do my duty. The only way I could be a good wife and not hate my husband was to feel...nothing. Not love, not hate, just...nothing." A single tear trickled down her face. "That was how I could marry a stranger and watch Prospero marry another woman without screaming or crying myself to sleep at night. That is how I could stand by and watch while my husband cast a Cruciatus Curse on my son. I knew I should have felt something more than what I did. I knew I should have wanted to protect my son, but..." Both her voice and her hands trembled. "But if I let myself...feel...again, I might have fallen apart." She laughed harshly, and her hand clenched convulsively around Theodore's. "As I am doing now."

Theodore stared at her thoughtfully for awhile, then finally said, "I was so scared of my father that I always did whatever he told me to, even keep silent about my uncle's death. If it hadn't been for the Professor and Remus, I probably would have become a Death Eater myself. And I probably would have married Serafina like my parents had planned, even though I loved Blaise."

Selima shook her head. "It's not the same thing. No one was threatening me." Looking weary and haunted, she whispered, "I wish...I wish I could go back and change things, but now it's too late."

Snape was shaken by what he had just heard. It was too much for him to deal with right now, and he needed to think it over before he decided what, if anything, he was going to say to his mother about it. He slowly backed away, intending to slip out of the room before Selima realized he was there, but his distraction made him clumsy, and he bumped into a chair as he stepped back without watching where he was going.

The noise made Selima's head jerk up with a start. "Severus!" she exclaimed, sounding dismayed, then her face turned red and she stared down at the floor.

Snape stood there, looking just as awkward, his face turning just as red.

"Father," Theodore said anxiously.

Lupin immediately glided forward and took charge of the situation. "I'll stay with Theodore," he said cheerfully. "Why don't you and Lady Selima go for a walk, Severus? She looks a little tired; perhaps you could take her to get a cup of tea." And somehow Selima and Snape found themselves hustled out of the hospital wing by the werewolf, in a gentle yet brisk and efficient manner. They walked down the hall, still flushing and not looking at one another.

Lupin sat down in the chair that Selima had just vacated, and smiled down reassuringly at his foster son, who was still looking a little worried. "Don't worry, Theo," he said confidently. "Everything will be all right."

***

Snape and Selima walked in silence down the corridor. "I'm sorry, Severus," Selima finally said.

"I suppose it's partly my fault for eavesdropping," Snape muttered.

"That's not what I meant," Selima said. "I am sorry that I never stopped your father from cursing or hexing you." Snape came to an abrupt halt, and finally turned to look at her, and Selima met his gaze unflinchingly. "You heard what I told Theodore, but I know that's no excuse for what I did--or rather, didn't do, and I don't expect you to forgive me. But I am truly sorry, and I will always regret it."

Snape stared at her, filled with emotions so conflicting and turbulent that he wasn't sure what he felt. Finally he said, "Let's discuss this somewhere a little more private." He led her to the nearest empty room, which happened to be the History of Magic classroom. He leaned against a desk, fidgeting nervously, while his mother just stood there and stared at him with an outward appearance of calm. No--on second thought, there was a certain amount of tension in her stance. It reminded him of an accused Death Eater steeling him or herself to face a judge and jury, which annoyed him for some reason. Was he really that terrifying? he wondered, ignoring the fact that he had cultivated that image for years among the students. "When did this change of heart come about?" he asked, his voice coming out a bit more sarcastic than he had intended.

But Selima did not take offense, and quietly replied, "I'm not sure, exactly. I think it has always bothered me, although I pretended that it didn't. But I suppose I didn't really admit it to myself until..." She hesitated for a moment, and flushed a little. "Until Professor Lupin and I had a talk on the day of your father's funeral."

Snape remembered walking in on Selima and Lupin in the study, and being shocked by her tear-streaked face. He wasn't sure what had shocked him more--that his mother had been weeping, or that she had been weeping in front of the werewolf. "That's what you were talking about that day?!" he exclaimed. He couldn't imagine his mother discussing such personal things with anyone, let alone Lupin. Then again, Lupin had a way of drawing people out, almost against their will.

"Among other things," Selima said, still flushing.

"But you never said anything about it to me until now," Snape said.

"I didn't see the point," Selima replied. "Saying 'I'm sorry' wouldn't erase the past. I didn't expect you to forgive me just because I apologized; in fact, I thought it might make you angry, as if I thought a few simple words could make up for everything you suffered."

Snape stared at his mother in surprise. She held little mercy for anyone--including herself, it seemed. He couldn't help but feel a grudging respect for the fact that she judged herself by the same standards that she judged everyone else.

"I didn't think that apologizing would change anything," Selima said. "Was I wrong?"

"I'm...not sure," Snape said slowly. "Perhaps." He had hated Sirius Black for a long time, even after he apologized about the Shrieking Shack incident, but in the end, it meant something to him to know that Black felt remorse for what he had done. He didn't think that he could have forgiven Black without that knowledge.

"I'm sorry," Selima repeated, although Snape was not sure whether she was still apologizing for the past, or for not apologizing sooner.

There was a long, awkward silence. Snape wasn't sure if he could forgive his mother, but he could no longer seem to summon up the old feelings of hatred and resentment. He thought about what she had said, about trying not to feel anything through all the years of her marriage, and it reminded him uncomfortably of himself. "When I first broke up with Lupin, years ago," he said hesitantly, "I decided to hate him, because it was easier than missing him." He wasn't sure how much she knew about his past history with Lupin, but she just nodded without asking any questions. There was another long silence, which Snape broke by laughing, a little bitterly, but not without genuine amusement. "Father would be horrified if he could see us now, acting so sentimental," Snape said. "Weeping over Theodore, reminiscing about past lovers..."

"Yes, he would," Selima agreed, smiling faintly. Then her expression turned serious, and she asked, "Do you know why your father was so adamant that you not fall prey to sentimentality?"

"Because it was a weakness," Snape said, surprised by the question. "Isn't that what he always said? Or did you have a more specific reason in mind?"

"When he was about five or six years old, his father decided that Severin was becoming too attached to his favorite nursemaid, so he dismissed her," Selima replied, her black eyes unreadable. "When he wept and asked where she had gone, Severin's father told him that he had just learned a valuable lesson: that the girl did not love him, and that she cared for him only so long as she was paid to. He said that love was an illusion and a luxury that only the weak could afford."

Snape suddenly recalled one of his father's favorite sayings, which he had repeated so often that even now, Snape could recite it by rote without thinking: "Sentimentality is a luxury only the weak can afford". "Father told you that?!" Snape exclaimed. Severin had never talked much about his childhood, and Snape realized now that he knew very little about his father's past.

"Not really," Selima said. "He let a little of it slip out when Vanessa Malfoy suggested that he hire a nursemaid to help me after you were born. He let me hire as many servants as I pleased to take care of the mansion, but he was insistent that his son not be raised by an outsider. I learned a little more from the portrait of Lord Stefan, before Severin had him locked up in the attic. He said that the girl coddled Severin and kissed him and sang him lullabies, and that he couldn't allow her to make his heir soft and weak."

Snape's grandfather had died before he was born, but he remembered the portrait of a disagreeable old man, with the same hooked nose and cold eyes as Severin's, who had finally been banished to the attic after offering one too many pieces of unwanted advice to his son.

"Vorcher remembered the girl, too," Selima said softly. "He said that she was a pretty girl with gold hair, and that she wept when Lord Stefan fired her and she had to leave. He said that after that, Lord Stefan hired more nursemaids, but they were all middle-aged and not so pretty, and that none of them sang lullabies. And they would stay for only a few months at a time before Lord Stefan would replace them with a new one."

Snape found it difficult to picture his father as a little boy weeping for the nursemaid who had raised him. He had always remembered Severin as being hard and cold, strong and unyielding. Damn it, he didn't want to feel sorry for his father! He didn't want to understand what had made Severin the way he was; he just wanted to hate him--was that too much to ask? "Am I supposed to feel sorry for him?" Snape asked petulantly.

"No," Selima replied in an even voice. "That doesn't justify what he did to you, and I don't expect you to forgive him. But I want you to know that he did it because he believed that he was making you stronger. Because he believed that you would need that strength to survive and prosper among the pureblood elite."

Snape turned to stare out of one of the classroom windows, looking at nothing in particular, not knowing what to say or what to think.

"Severin was not really suited to life as a Lord," Selima continued. "He did not take joy in playing the game of politics like his friend Lucien Malfoy did. I don't think that he really wanted a family; he postponed marrying or even searching for a bride until he was nearly forty. His father had just died, and it suddenly became imperative for him to have an heir and ensure the succession. The only things that Severin truly loved were his books and his research. He would have been suited to the life of a scholar-monk in earlier times, perhaps. If he had been a younger son, he could still have been a scholar, but he was the eldest and only son, so he did his duty as heir, and married and led a life of ambition instead of study."

Snape's parents, it seemed, had given up people and things that they loved in order to do their duty to their families. No wonder it had galled them so much that he refused to fall into line and do his duty--not that he had any intention of making himself miserable just for the sake of duty and tradition. But still... "I know so little about who Father really was," Snape murmured, more to himself than Selima, and he was surprised to find that he regretted it.

"We could still complete the portrait of your father, if you wish," Selima said. "I know it's not the same thing, but it does have Severin's memories. It might be able to tell you about his past, if you really want to know."

Snape shuddered a little at the thought of his father glaring down at him from the wall, the way the portrait of Mrs. Black did to Sirius. The thought of talking to something that was less than a phantom, a mere shadow of Severin's true self, held little appeal for Snape. "No, thank you, Mother," he said. "I'm not that desperate. Besides, you know we'll only fight, and then he'll end up in the attic with all the other Snapes." He managed an ironic smile, and Selima actually laughed a little in response.

"I suppose you're right, Severus."

"If you could do it over again," Snape said suddenly, without really thinking about it, "would you do things differently? Would you have married Prospero Zabini and to hell with what your family wanted?"

Selima looked startled at first, then stared at him intently, and for a moment he thought that she wasn't going to answer. Then she said, "But then Marius would be my son, not you. And...Marius is a decent man, but he will never be...exceptional. He does not have the ambition or drive to become more than the owner of a junk shop. He does not have the courage it must have taken not just to fight the Death Eaters, but to live among them as a spy. And he most certainly does not have the brazen effrontery to take a werewolf--and a male, Gryffindor werewolf, at that--as a lover."

Selima smiled, just a little, a very faint upward curving at the corners of her mouth, and Snape stared at her in shock. "Marius might have turned out differently, with a little Bashir blood in him," Snape pointed out.

"Perhaps," Selima said. "But you would also have turned out differently, with whatever mother that your father would have chosen if he had not married me. And there is the fact that Blaise would not exist--at least, not as he is now. So, having taken everything into consideration, I think that I prefer things as they are now."

That was not really the answer Snape had expected to hear, but it made him realize that everything that had happened in his life had led him to this moment, and resulted in what he had now: Lupin, Theodore, and Dylan. If he had been raised in a loving family, then he would not have been so desperately lonely. And if he had not been so lonely, perhaps he would not have been so drawn to Lupin. Perhaps he and Lupin would never have become lovers. That thought scared him more than anything ever had--including the fear of being discovered as a spy and tortured by Voldemort. If he and Lupin had never become lovers and then parted bitterly over the Shrieking Shack prank, then he might never have become a Death Eater, in which case, he would never have become a spy for the Order. Without the information he had brought to the Order, perhaps the Dark Lord would have won, and they would all be either dead or slaves of Voldemort now. Or, perhaps the Order and Potter would have triumphed in the end even without Snape's help. But if he had not been a Death Eater, he would not have been in a position to befriend Dylan and Theodore. They might have fallen prey to the Dark Lord, and been killed or corrupted. At the very least, they would not be his sons now. That thought scared him as much as the thought of losing Lupin did, and he grabbed at the edge of a desk to steady himself as he felt a tremor run through his body. He had hated all those bitter, lonely years he had spent without Lupin, but maybe they had been necessary in order for him to achieve the happiness he had now.

"Severus?" Selima asked, a look of concern on her face. "Are you all right?"

Snape released the desk and started to say, "Yes," but just then, Professor Binns's ghostly form floated through the blackboard and said, "The goblin rebellions in Britain began in the early 1600s--"

Selima jumped a little, and Snape shouted, "Binns! What are you doing here? It's Saturday!"

Binns droned on for a minute more, before he blinked and turned to look at Snape. "Mr. Snape?" he said, sounding surprised. "Are you in this class?" He looked around the empty room. "Where are all your classmates?"

"I haven't been a student for twenty years!" Snape snapped. "I'm a Professor now, remember? And no one's here because there are no classes on Saturday!"

"Oh," Binns said, a vague and confused look in his eyes. "Well, as long as I'm here, I might as well continue...the first goblin uprising took place in--"

Snape motioned for Selima to follow him, and they left Binns there, droning on contentedly to an empty room. He shook his head and muttered grumpily, "I didn't know it was possible for ghosts to become senile!"

Selima laughed. "He hasn't changed a bit from when I was a student! Well...actually, he was alive back then, but otherwise he's still the same."

"We should get back to the hospital wing," Snape said. "Theodore needs us." He hesitated, then said, "He needs both of us."

Selima stared into his eyes, then slowly nodded, seeming to understand what he really meant without him needing to explain it further, and they walked together back to the hospital wing.

***

Meanwhile, McGonagall, Dumbledore, and the other teachers were in the Gryffindor common room. McGonagall ordered the students to line up and present their wands to her, and since she started with the seventh-years, it wasn't long before she came to Neville Longbottom, who stared at her with a worried, shamefaced look, his hands empty, no wand in sight.

"Oh no," McGonagall sighed wearily.

"I'm sorry, Professor," Neville said miserably. "I lost my wand yesterday sometime between Transfiguration class and dinner. I guess I should have said something, but I didn't think it was that important. I thought I had just misplaced it somewhere."

"It's true," Allegra said earnestly. "We helped him look all over for it--the library, the greenhouse, the hallways, the dorm. We figured it must be in your classroom, since that's where he last saw it, but we didn't want to bother you until after the match was over."

McGonagall reached into her pocket and pulled out the wand that the Aurors had found. "By any chance, is this your wand, Mr. Longbottom?"

"Yes, ma'am," Neville said in a small voice. "Someone...someone used my wand to cast that spell at the Quidditch match today, didn't they?"

McGonagall sighed again, which seemed answer enough.

"Who's going to tell Severus that we found the owner of the wand, but that we're no closer to catching the culprit behind the pranks than we were before?" Satoshi asked nervously. No one seemed eager to volunteer.

***

Snape was indeed furious when he learned that the wand turned out to be a dead-end lead. (Branwen had been chosen as the bearer of bad news, since she was deemed most capable of handling a wrathful Snape.) However, he was too exhausted to go into a full-blown rage, since worrying about Theodore and reconciling with his mother had drained most of his energy.

Lupin just sighed. "I'm not really surprised, to be honest. It seemed strange that the culprit would have left behind such an obvious clue that could have implicated him or her."

"Are we sure that this Longbottom had nothing to do with the incident?" Selima asked suspiciously. The teachers seemed to have dismissed the idea out of hand a little too quickly for her taste. "The boy's parents were driven insane by the Death Eaters. Perhaps he holds a grudge against their children, and conjured the Dark Mark in an attempt to implicate the Slytherins."

Snape snorted in derision. "Longbottom's not that devious, Mother--nor that competent. If all these pranks are connected, as we think they are, there's no way he could have gotten away with all of them. One or two, perhaps, but sooner or later he would have botched one of them; I can't tell you how many times he's nearly blown up the Potions classroom. The boy's a walking disaster."

"You exaggerate, Severus," Lupin chided him. "Neville's improved a great deal over the past couple of years."

"Perhaps," Snape conceded grudgingly, "but casting a time-delayed spell requires a certain degree of skill and precision that Mr. Longbottom still lacks."

"And anyway," Lupin continued, "Neville would never do something like this. It's not in his nature to be malicious, and besides, he's friendly with Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, so I don't think he holds a grudge against the Death Eater children."

"Mr. Longbottom apparently has a history of being a bit forgetful," Branwen explained to Selima. "It's most likely that he mislaid his wand somewhere, and the real culprit found it and decided it would be safer to use someone else's wand rather than their own."

"Was it just a fortunate coincidence for them?" Lupin wondered. "Or could they have deliberately planned to steal it?"

"It's possible, although a bit risky on their part," Snape said a little dubiously. "You'd think that even Longbottom would notice his pocket being picked." He sighed irritably. "Well, is McGonagall at least going to give him detention for being so careless as to lose his wand?"

"I didn't ask, but I don't think so," Branwen replied, frowning. "It was an accident, and no one could have predicted what would happen."

"It's not his fault, Severus," Lupin said quietly.

"I know, but I'd like to punish SOMEONE," Snape growled. "Damn it, this bloody prankster is almost as clever as the real Death Eaters. I can't believe we're being outsmarted by some snot-nosed brat! Maybe I could 'accidentally' spill some Veritaserum into the pumpkin juice at dinner..."

"I wouldn't advise it, Severus," Branwen said sternly. "Especially since the Aurors have gotten involved. They don't look kindly upon that sort of thing."

"Well, I don't look kindly upon my sons nearly getting killed," Snape grumbled, but was too tired to argue further. He and Lupin and Selima stayed by Theodore's side throughout the day, even eating lunch and dinner in the hospital wing. Every now and then, Theodore would wake briefly and smile, looking reassured when he saw his family watching over him. Lupin finally persuaded Selima to go home and get some rest, but he and Snape slept in the hospital wing that night to guard their son.

***

Everyone in Ravenclaw was gossiping anxiously about what had happened at the Quidditch match. Stewart pretended to be as concerned as everyone else, but inside he was gloating. He and Isabelle had figured out how to create what they hoped was a convincing Dark Mark, thanks to Master Satoshi's Illusion classes. (Those classes had also come in handy when Stewart had disguised himself as Theodore Snape in order to plant the gift-wrapped Porvora on Aric's desk.) The only problem had been how to cast it without getting caught. They had considered several plans, including sneaking out of the castle at night to cast it, but that was risky, because they might get caught sneaking back in. Besides, they really wanted to do it during the Quidditch match, where everyone, including Stewart's father's Auror friends, would see it. Stewart had considered feigning illness, then sneaking out of the hospital wing to cast the spell while everyone was at the match, but that also ran a high risk of discovery. So it had been an incredible stroke of luck when Stewart had discovered Longbottom's wand in Transfiguration class. (McGonagall's fourth-year Ravenclaw class just happened to immediately take place after her seventh-year Gryffindor class that day.) That nitwit had carelessly left his wand behind, and Stewart had quickly pocketed it before anyone noticed. It had been the perfect opportunity--now they could cast the spell in advance without it being traced back to them.

Stewart had some familiarity with Muggle devices, since one of his roommates was a half-blood. When the magical music boxes had been all the rage among the students, Stewart's roommate had casually shrugged it off, explaining that tape recorders did much the same thing with no need for magic. He had been able to order one anonymously, through a classified ad in the Daily Prophet, and record the "Morsmordre" command in secret, using a simple charm to change his voice into something deep and menacing. Isabelle, who was more adept at such things, had cast the time-delayed illusion, and they had snuck out early in the morning to plant the wand and tape recorder in the tree. No one seemed to have noticed their absence, and even if they had, he doubted that their housemates would have found it suspicious. Everyone assumed that he and Isabelle were a couple, and it wasn't uncommon for a couple to sneak off and steal a little time alone together.

Stewart sighed; he only wished that were true. He and Isabelle were good friends, but so far that was all. They had gone to the Yule Ball together, but she had been focused on exposing the Slytherins rather than romance. So far the most he'd won from her had been a kiss on the cheek, but on the other hand, that was still more favor than she'd shown any of the other numerous boys who were interested in her. He hoped that she wasn't pining over some Beauxbatons boy she'd left behind, but comforted himself with the thought that even if such a guy did exist, he was thousands of miles away, while Stewart was right here. Besides, Isabelle seemed single-minded in her pursuit of revenge; he doubted that she would be interested in anything else until she achieved her goal. Which was all the more reason to help her achieve it...

Towards that end, Stewart had contacted a couple of his father's friends, and expressed concern about the various hexes and pranks that had taken place at the school recently. They had already heard disturbing rumors, and were annoyed and offended that Dumbledore had not seen fit to consult with them about it. They had agreed to meet Stewart at the match to discuss it, and perhaps take a look around the school. The Dark Mark illusion had gone off as planned, and now the Aurors were officially involved--Dumbledore and Snape wouldn't be able to brush off these incidents anymore. If the Aurors dug deep enough, surely they would find some evidence that the Slytherins were up to no good--enough to expel them, maybe even arrest them.

It never occurred to Stewart that the Slytherins might be innocent, nor did he worry about his own role in the pranks being exposed. If the Ravenclaws had a flaw, it was probably pride in their own cleverness, and a certainty that no one else could outsmart them.

Part 60