FIC: Aftermaths, Part 32

[geri_chan]

Title: Aftermaths, Part 32
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: ~9,580
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's father dies, and Snape and his mother prepare for the funeral while coping with mixed feelings.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19, Part 20, Part 21, Part 22, Part 23, Part 24, Part 25, Part 26, Part 27, Part 28, Part 29, Part 30, Part 31

***

Theodore was still fuming about it later that night in the Slytherin common room. He was furious because he wanted to do well in all his classes and make his father proud of him, and the Gryffindor boys had ruined the project. "Those stupid Gryffindor gits!" he raged, as Blaise and Dylan tried to calm him down. "Blaise and I did everything right; it's not fair that our grades should have to suffer because of them!"

"Surely Blackmore won't penalize you because of their mistake," Dylan said soothingly.

"It's teamwork, remember?" Theodore said caustically. "We're supposed to be working together, so all the team members get the same grade."

"I'm sure it won't make that much of a difference in our overall grade," Blaise said in a placating tone.

Just then, Lupin walked in, carrying a large platter of chocolate-chip cookies, followed by Snape. "Hi, Professor!" Brad Doherty said eagerly, and he and Crabbe and Goyle jumped up to heat a cauldron of water in the fireplace for tea.

"Hello, Brad," Lupin said pleasantly as he and Snape took a seat on the couch next to Theodore. "Want a cookie?" he asked, holding the platter out to Theodore.

"No thanks," Theodore muttered sullenly.

"Oh, come on," Lupin coaxed, waving the platter under his nose. "It'll cheer you up. They're still warm, just out of the oven..."

Theodore smiled a little in spite of himself. "All right," he said, giving in. "Thank you, Remus."

Lupin passed the platter around to the other students who were gathering in the common room now that they realized Lupin and Snape were here. "So what's bothering you, Theo?" he asked sympathetically.

"He's upset that those idiots Thomas and Finnigan ruined his Incantations presentation," Draco informed Lupin before Theodore could respond.

"Since when is your name 'Theo'?" Theodore asked Draco sarcastically.

"Oh yes," Lupin said, frowning a little. "Branwen told us about that at dinner."

"Yeah, Thomas and Finnigan botched the incantation," Theodore said, starting to get angry again. "Which means that Blaise and I also didn't get full marks since the assignment wasn't completed."

"It's not fair that they should be penalized because Dean and Seamus are morons," Pansy interjected indignantly.

"Let me get this straight," Snape said, looking a little confused. "The incantation failed because the Gryffindors were fighting with each other, not with you?"

"Yes, sir," Blaise said quietly. "They weren't actually fighting in class, but..." He and Theodore exchanged a glance. "They've barely spoken to each other the last few times we met to work on our project. They didn't practice reciting the incantation together like they were supposed to."

"That's odd," Lupin said, still frowning. "They've been best friends ever since I've known them."

"Allegra said that they got into a fight the day those first-years put a rat on Portia Pettigrew's plate," Blaise volunteered, although he didn't really like being reminded of the incident; his parents had not been pleased when they heard about it. They had sent a letter to Allegra scolding her, but they had also sent one to him, telling him to keep a closer watch on his sister--but how was he supposed to keep watch over her when she was in a different House? He sighed and continued, "Dean laughed, and Seamus got mad at him, saying it was wrong to bully a little girl. Apparently they haven't been speaking to each other since then."

"There's more to it than that," Pansy said with a sly smile. "Seamus has been pursuing Lavender, and Dean doesn't like that, because Lavender is friends with us. He's one of those people who think that Gryffindors shouldn't associate with Slytherins, I guess. He thinks that Seamus only stood up for Portia to impress Lavender."

"And it worked!" Millicent laughed. "She was very impressed."

"Dean called Seamus a 'Slytherin suck-up,'" Pansy added.

"Is that what this is all about?" Theodore asked, looking disgusted. "They're ruining my grades over some stupid fight about a girl?"

"No, Theo," Lupin said, looking very concerned. "This has nothing to do with romance, and everything to do with prejudice. I thought that the Gryffindors had overcome their bias towards Slytherin; apparently I was wrong."

"Well, most of them are okay," Pansy conceded. "Even Potter and Weasley haven't been as much trouble as usual, right, Draco?" Draco looked a little embarrassed and annoyed; he remained silent, unable to bring himself to defend his old rivals, although he couldn't truthfully contradict Pansy, either. Pansy continued, "And Zabini's sister and some of her friends have been coming to the Slytherin practice sessions."

"Yeah," Miriam Baddock chimed in. "Portia and Chloe and Emma. They're okay; we've kind of made friends with them."

"I like them," Slaine Kendrick said softly. "They're nice."

"Yes, most of the Gryffindor girls are all right," Pansy agreed. "It's mostly the boys who are causing the problems." She added in a superior tone, "Everyone knows that girls are more mature than boys."

The Slytherin girls nodded, and the boys looked offended. "Now wait a minute!" Draco protested.

Lupin chuckled. "I'm afraid she's right, Draco, at least judging by my own experience. Lily--Harry's mother--was a lot more mature than James and my other friends, even though we were all the same age."

"Your friends were a bunch of hotheaded idiots, Lupin," Snape said sourly. "Almost everyone in the school was more mature than they were."

"Some tea, sir?" Brad said, offering Snape a cup. "It's already got cream and sugar in it."

"Ah, yes, thank you, Doherty," Snape replied, sounding a little surprised; he still wasn't used to his students regarding him with anything but fear and loathing. Meanwhile, Lupin was accepting a cup from Goyle.

"Thank you, Gregory."

Blaise looked thoughtful. "My sister says most of the Gryffindors have been nice to her--it helped that Harry and Hermione personally welcomed her after she was Sorted into Gryffindor. But some of them have given her a hard time for being from a Slytherin family, and come to think of it, they're all boys: those two first-years who pulled the rat prank, Kenneth Sloper and Jarrett Jordan, and Kenneth's brother Jack and his friend Andrew Kirke. There are a few other students--like Dean--who haven't actually insulted her, but haven't been friendly either. They avoid talking to her and to Portia, sort of ignoring them like they don't exist."

Lupin sighed and sipped his tea. "I was really hoping that they'd progressed further than that."

Snape shrugged and said philosophically, "You can't change hundreds of years worth of traditions and prejudices in a few months, Lupin." He added dryly, "You might consider it progress that none of the Gryffindors have tried to feed any of the Slytherins to a werewolf."

"Grrr," Lupin said playfully, and the students laughed, even Theodore. The corners of Snape's mouth twitched slightly, threatening to turn into a smile before he forced them back down into a scowl.

"Speaking of maturity, Lupin, you might try to show a little yourself--you know, to set a good example for the students."

Lupin smiled, then his expression turned serious again. "Perhaps I should speak to Minerva about this--or talk to some of the Gryffindors myself."

"You won't make them change their minds just by talking to them, Professor," Millicent said reasonably. "There'll always be some people who will hate us."

"People can change," Lupin said earnestly.

"But I think they have to do it on their own, Remus," Dylan said solemnly. "They won't change just because you tell them to. I know I didn't." He flushed with shame. "I didn't care when people told me that the Death Eaters were evil; I still wanted to be one because I wanted to be like my father. It wasn't until I came to Hogwarts that I started to change my mind. I made friends with Hermione, and then Mudbloods weren't just faceless victims to be killed, because one them was someone that I cared about. Even then, I was stubborn and stupid, and I didn't really turn away from the Death Eaters until they kidnapped me and forced the Mark on me." Dylan grimaced at the memory.

Lupin smiled, a little sadly, and put an arm around him. "I suppose you're right, Dylan. Let's just hope that the Gryffindors don't require such drastic measures to change."

"They are changing, though," Dylan said hopefully. "I mean, a year ago it would have been unthinkable for me to date Hermione, or for Pansy and Millicent to be friends with Lavender and Parvati."

"You're right," Lupin said, smiling more sincerely. "We have to be patient."

"I've met my cousin, Corbin Talbott," Dylan added.

"Ah yes," Snape said, "I remember seeing him at the Sorting ceremony. I thought he'd become one of my Slytherins, but the Hat put him in Ravenclaw."

"At first he didn't want anything to do with me," Dylan said. "He told me that his family blamed my father for Elin Rosier's death."

Snape frowned. "You didn't say anything of this to me."

"I figured I had to work it out on my own, sir," Dylan replied. "Your giving him detention wouldn't make him like me any better, after all."

Snape's lips curved into a smile, almost against his will. "True, Mr. Rosier," he admitted.

"But now we're getting to know each other a little bit," Dylan continued. "I've been meeting with Gabrielle Delacour, to converse in French with her when she's homesick. Corbin still makes it clear that he doesn't much like me, but he tolerates my presence because Gabby is his friend." Dylan grinned. "I think he has a little crush on her."

Snape sighed in exasperation. "Yes, I've noticed the boys mooning over Miss Delacour in class, and I'm sure it will only get worse as they get older and their teenage hormones kick in."

"It's not her fault, Severus," Lupin said. "It's her veela blood; she's not doing it on purpose."

"I didn't say that she was, Lupin," Snape said irritably. "But it's damned inconvenient, especially when I'm trying to get her male classmates to concentrate on the lesson long enough to prevent them from melting their cauldrons or blowing up the classroom."

Everyone laughed, and Lupin said, "Well, I'm happy for you, Dylan. I hope you and your cousin get to be friends." In the far corner of the room, Aric Dietrich rolled his eyes as he munched on a cookie, but no one noticed.

"And don't worry about your grade, Theodore," Snape told his son. "You still got partial credit for the assignment, and I'm sure that one project won't affect your grade for the entire term. If it does, I'll have a talk with Branwen."

"Yes, sir," Theodore said, relaxing. Snape's opinion mattered more to him than the grade, anyway.

Lupin pulled a deck of cards out of his pocket and changed the subject. "Anyone up for a game of Exploding Snap?"

"Me!" several of the students shouted in unison, Crabbe, Goyle, and Brad among them. They gathered around the couch and Lupin began dealing cards out.

"Shall I deal you in, Severus?" Lupin asked.

Snape gave him a disdainful look, and pulled a book out of the pocket of his robe. "I think not, Lupin. You go ahead with your childish games; I have some reading to catch up on."

"What's the matter?" Lupin teased. "Are you afraid you'll lose face in front of your Slytherins if you're beaten by a Gryffindor werewolf?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Lupin!" Snape snapped. "It's so laughably easy to beat you that it's no challenge at all."

"Put your money where your mouth is, Professor Snape," Lupin dared him.

Snape threw down his book. "Oh, very well!" he huffed. "What are the stakes?"

Lupin paused to think. "Five Galleons."

Snape looked disappointed, but replied, "Fine."

The Slytherins watched eagerly as their two Professors began the game, and quietly made wagers of their own.

"Ha!" Snape said triumphantly, as the last card exploded in Lupin's face. "I win!"

"I concede defeat," Lupin said serenely.

"You take all the fun out of gloating," Snape complained, and Lupin smiled.

Later, in their quarters, Snape said, "All right, Lupin, cough up my five Galleons."

"Actually," Lupin said coyly, giving him a come-hither look, "I'm afraid I don't have five Galleons on me. Perhaps you would accept something else instead?" He unfastened his robe and let it fall to the floor, then slowly began unbuttoning his shirt.

"I think you had this in mind all along," Snape said with a grin as he moved closer to Lupin.

"Of course," Lupin replied. "I could hardly wager a night of amazing sex in front of all those impressionable young students."

Snape snorted at the thought of trying to protect the innocence of a Slytherin, but he was grateful nonetheless that Lupin hadn't proposed that wager in front of the students. Suddenly a thought occurred to him. "You didn't lose on purpose, did you?" he asked suspiciously.

Lupin pretended to be shocked. "A Gryffindor? Cheat? Why Severus, the very idea is outrageous!" He began buttoning up his shirt. "However, if you feel the wager was not made in good faith, we can always cancel it..."

"No you don't, Lupin!" Snape said, putting his arms around Lupin and pulling him close. "I won the bet, and I intend to collect on it!" He whispered into Lupin's ear, "I think I got the better end of the bargain, though--a night with you is worth far more than five Galleons."

"Don't worry," Lupin chuckled. "If I won, I was going to demand a night in bed with YOU!"

"Well, I'm certainly worth more than five Galleons!" Snape said indignantly.

"You are absolutely priceless, my love," Lupin laughed, and ended the debate by covering Snape's mouth with his own, and for once, Snape let Lupin have the last word.

***

Things at school went smoothly for the next few weeks, at least on the surface. The R.A. continued to quietly observe the Slytherins, and while there were no more pranks in Gryffindor House, a handful of students continued to snub Allegra and Portia, and occasionally muttered nasty remarks under their breath--out of earshot of Allegra, though, as her Rat-Face Hex had left a strong impression on her housemates.

"It figures that someone from a Slytherin family would be good at casting hexes," Dean muttered. Seamus ignored him, as they still weren't speaking to each other. He spent a lot of time hanging around Lavender, and when she wasn't available, with Harry and Ron or Neville.

"You guys are best friends--shouldn't you make up?" Hermione urged.

"Not until he apologizes to me," Seamus said stubbornly.

Meanwhile, Dean spent most of his free time with his girlfriend Susan and her friends, and when he was in the Gryffindor common room, he hung out with Jack Sloper and Andrew Kirke, the Gryffindor beaters.

Harry was worried, not just because two of his friends weren't speaking to each other, but also because of the effect it was having on the Quidditch team. One day in practice, Seamus missed scoring a goal when he refused to pass the Quaffle to Dean.

"That's it!" Harry shouted. "I've had it with you two! If you guys want to hate each other, be my guest, but keep your petty quarrels off the Quidditch Pitch! We might as well just hand the trophy over to Slytherin at this rate!"

"Sorry, Harry," the two boys mumbled, looking shamefaced.

"I mean it," Harry said sternly. "Screw up one more time, and I'm replacing you with the reserve players, and you can sit out our first match on the bench!"

The reserve players brightened when they heard that; they normally didn't get a chance to play in a real game unless one of the regular team members was injured. "Oh yes, please screw up," one of them muttered under his breath, rubbing his hands together gleefully.

Seamus and Dean both looked alarmed, and promised to leave their arguments off the Pitch. For the most part they succeeded; they passed the Quaffle to each other when necessary, but there was still an air of tension between them that worried Harry. The team just didn't feel like a team when two of the members weren't speaking to each other except when absolutely necessary. Even if they were cooperating on the Pitch, that sense of teamwork and unity was missing.

"Don't worry about it, Harry," Ron said in an attempt to comfort him. "As long as you catch the Snitch, everything will be okay. It won't matter if Dean and Seamus miss a few goals."

"You're missing the point, Ron," Harry sighed, but there didn't seem to be anything he could do about it.

***

The full moon came and went without incident: Snape, Lupin, Dylan, and Theodore spent the night together in Snape's quarters, and since it was a weekend, Lukas left Hogwarts to spend the full moon with his pack. He returned the next day, looking happier and more relaxed than he had at any time since beginning his teaching job.

One Friday, about three weeks after Professor Blackmore's class performed their Summonings, Snape was lecturing his seventh-year Advanced Potions class when Dumbledore entered the classroom, looking very grave.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, Severus," the Headmaster said, "but this just arrived for you, and I thought I should give it to you right away." He held out an envelope that had a wide, flat black ribbon wrapped around it, and Snape's sallow face turned even paler than usual, and his hand trembled a little as he reached out to take the letter.

Harry watched as Snape slowly removed the ribbon and broke the seal of red wax on the envelope. He noticed that the Slytherins, particularly Theodore and Draco, looked very concerned, except for Aric, who looked interested but not particularly worried. Harry leaned over and hissed, "Draco! What's wrong?"

Draco turned to him and said, "Don't you know anything, Potter?" But his snide tone of voice seemed only perfunctory; his gray eyes immediately flickered back to Snape, who was now reading the letter, and he said in a distracted tone, "The black ribbon means it's a death announcement."

Hermione nodded, looking equally concerned. "He's right, Harry; I read about it in The Book of Wizard Etiquette. And I only know of one person close to the Professor who was dying..."

"Then that means..." Harry's voice trailed off. Everyone in the school knew that Snape's father was dying, thanks to the Howler his mother had sent. Even though he had hated Snape at one time, and even now could not exactly say that he liked the Potions Master despite the fact that they had reached a truce of sorts, Harry couldn't help but feel sorry for Snape. He had lost his own parents, of course, and even though they had died when he was a baby, sometimes he still felt a sense of emptiness and grief, not so much because he missed them--he had never really known them, after all, and had no memories of them except for their dying screams and the glimpse he had seen of them in Snape's pensieve--but because he would never have a chance to get to know them. He knew that Snape had been estranged from his family for many years, so he probably wasn't close to his father, but Harry didn't know if that made things easier or harder. Probably harder, Harry decided. There were so many things Harry wanted to ask his own father, like why he had played such cruel pranks on Snape when he was younger, and if he had ever felt remorse about it when he got older. Maybe there were questions Snape wanted to ask his father that would now go forever unanswered; maybe he regretted not mending things with his family sooner.

Snape just stood there, staring at the letter in his hand. His face was still white, and he seemed to be in shock; his black eyes looked dazed and unfocused.

When Snape still had not moved a few minutes later, Theodore rose to his feet and said hesitantly, "F-Father...?" All the students turned and stared at him in surprise, their attention momentarily diverted away from the Professor. Even though they knew that Snape had adopted Theodore, they had never heard him address Snape as "Father" before.

***

"F-Father...?" Theodore stammered, and Snape looked up to see his son staring at him, green eyes filled with concern. It was the first time Theodore had called him "Father" outside of Snape Manor, and under other circumstances, it might have made him happy. But Snape realized that he must look pretty bad for Theodore, who usually avoided attracting attention to himself, to be calling him "Father" in front of the entire class.

"Are...are you all right?" Theodore asked, and Snape attempted to pull himself together and fix his usual arrogant mask on his face. Theodore still looked worried, so he wasn't sure if he had entirely succeeded.

"I'm fine, Theodore," Snape said briskly, shoving the letter into his pocket. "Lord Severin has died, which is of course no surprise, considering how ill he was, although I didn't expect it to happen quite this soon."

"You should go see your mother, Severus," Dumbledore said gently.

"Of course, Headmaster," Snape replied, trying for a sense of calm, but the closest he could manage was a feeling of numbness. "I'll head over to Snape Manor as soon as classes are over for the day."

"You will go now, Severus," Dumbledore said, his normally amiable voice suddenly full of steel. "You may take as much leave time as you need."

"But my classes--" Snape protested.

"It will not hurt your students to miss one day of class," Dumbledore said firmly.

"But--"

"They can make up the work when you come back," Dumbledore interrupted. "If it turns out that you will gone for more than a few days, then I'll arrange for a substitute, but we needn't worry about that now. Your mother needs you, Severus; go home. That's an order."

Hogwarts was "home," and Lupin's cottage was "home"; Snape Manor was not "home" to Snape, and it was the very last place he wanted to go right now. But still feeling numb and dazed, he couldn't seem to summon up enough energy to argue further with the meddling old man.

"Very well," he capitulated. He glanced at his students and saw that instead of looking happy that class would be canceled, for the most part they looked worried and sympathetic. That disturbed him a little, although not as much as it probably should have, due to that sense of numbness. It was the same feeling one sometimes got during a very bad cold, like being wrapped in cotton, having everything filtered through a thick haze of fog. One could carry on a rational conversation, but at the same time felt removed from it, as if it were happening to someone else. Snape shook his head, trying to clear the fog from his mind, and said in a reasonable approximation of his normal sour voice, "Read chapter ten of your textbook, and expect to be tested on it when I return." The students murmured acquiescence without their usual grumbling and resentful looks. "Theodore, you'll need to come with me, as you are now the Snape heir in truth." Which meant that Snape was now no longer the Snape heir, but Lord of the Snape estate; the thought was literally staggering, and he reached out with one hand to brace himself against his desk.

Theodore was suddenly at his side, although Snape hadn't seen him move. "Are you sure you're all right, Father?" he asked.

Snape let go of the desk and straightened up. "I'm fine," he said, trying to sound more confident than he felt. He looked at his son's face, full of love and concern, and he suddenly felt just a little bit better, and profoundly grateful that he would not have to return to his ancestral home alone.

"I'll send Remus and Dylan to your office, Severus," Dumbledore told him. "Please convey my deepest sympathies to your mother, and don't hesitate to call me if there is anything I can do."

"Thank you, Headmaster," Snape replied. "I expect I should be able to resume classes on Monday."

"Don't worry about that, Severus," Dumbledore said in a gentle but chiding tone. "I told you, take as much time as you need."

Snape didn't bother to tell him that the prospect of spending even one day at Snape Manor was very unappealing, and he didn't know what he was supposed to do there, anyway. Comfort his mother, the Headmaster would no doubt say, but Snape doubted that he would be much good at consoling Lady Selima, even if she wanted to be consoled, which was rather doubtful. He supposed that he could help her with the funeral arrangements, although knowing his very efficient and proper mother, she probably already had everything under control. But he knew that arguing with the Headmaster would be useless--he was even more stubborn than Lupin when he had his mind set on something--so Snape just nodded and headed to his office with Theodore.

Lupin and Dylan joined them a few minutes later. "I'm so sorry, Severus," Lupin said, putting his arms around Snape and holding him tightly.

"I'm fine, Lupin, don't fuss," Snape said mildly, still not quite able to shake that feeling of detachment. "We've been expecting this, and it's not as if I was close to my father."

Lupin pulled back a little and said, "I know, but still...I'm sorry." He actually looked more distressed than Snape did, and there was a glimmer of tears in his blue eyes. Were the tears really for Severin, whom Lupin had barely met, or more for Snape himself? Mostly the latter, but probably both, Snape decided; Lupin was the sort who would believe all that rubbish about how "each man's death diminishes us." Severin Snape had not been a very well-liked man, and Snape wondered how his father would have reacted to seeing that a werewolf was one of the few people--possibly the only person--in the wizarding world to sincerely mourn his death. Snape almost laughed, but restrained himself, because he was afraid that if he started laughing, he might not be able to stop; he realized that the urge was closer to hysteria than humor.

Snape took a deep breath and steadied himself, and Lupin reluctantly let go of him. Snape grabbed a handful of Floo Powder from the mantle, tossed it into the fireplace, and said, "Snape Manor!"

***

Selima was sitting in the drawing room when they arrived, looking--not sad, exactly--but very weary. She was a beautiful woman who looked younger than her nearly sixty years, but today the lines on her face seemed more pronounced, and she looked tired and drained. Vorcher stood by her side, sobbing inconsolably, and she absent-mindedly reached out and patted him on the head. Snape's jaw dropped open and he stared at his mother incredulously. Selima had never mistreated the house-elf, but neither had he ever seen her show any affection towards it before.

Selima gave her son a puzzled frown. "Why are you staring at me like that, Severus?" she asked irritably. "Do I have something on my face?" Her hand automatically reached up to brush her cheek, as if to wipe off a stray bit of dirt or an unnoticed smudge.

Snape realized that his mother was not aware of what she had just done, and decided that it would probably be better not to point it out to her. "Ah, no, Mother," he said hastily. "Sorry, I must still be in a bit of shock. I thought the Healers had expected Father to last for a couple more months."

"A few months more at best, was what they told me last month," Selima replied. "He did seem to be doing better for awhile, with the new potion you were making for him. But...he has been fading fast in the past few weeks."

"You should have told me," Snape said, although there was nothing he could have done, and there was really nothing left for he and his father to say to each other. Severin would never apologize to Snape for abusing him as a child, and Snape certainly would never apologize for falling in love with Lupin.

"There was nothing you could have done," Selima said with a shrug, echoing Snape's thoughts. "I think...there was no reason for him to hold on any longer, now that the succession is assured. I think he was only clinging to life this long because he was afraid of what would happen to the Snape name and estate after he died. He would have preferred that you sire an heir, of course--" She gave Snape a brief glare, but seemed too tired to maintain it. "--but since you have made it clear that will never happen, young Theodore is an acceptable substitute. Severin was...well, perhaps 'at peace' would be an exaggeration, but he was satisfied that the Snape line would not die out."

"Poor Master," Vorcher sobbed. "Vorcher has served the Snape family since Master was a boy, and now Master is gone! Master was in such pain these last few years, but Master always said, 'I cannot die yet, Vorcher; what will become of the Snape estate when I am gone?' Master has been too weak to work in his workshop for months, too weak even to hold a book, so Vorcher would read to Master, from the old family histories. Master's favorite was Lord Sebastian's diaries--'Those were the days, when Slytherin was great,' Master used to say. And after the Final Battle, Master wanted to hear the news from the Daily Prophet--news about Master Severus." Vorcher gave Snape an accusing look, but Snape was more startled than offended, not so much by Vorcher's glare, but by the fact that Snape's father had been keeping tabs on him. That was the sort of thing Selima would do, but when Severin cut ties to someone, he pretended that they did not exist; it would have been beneath his dignity--or so Snape had thought--to deliberately seek out news of his wayward son in the Daily Prophet. "Master would say, 'What is my good-for-nothing son up to now, Vorcher?'" Vorcher continued tearfully.

"That's enough, Vorcher," Selima said, but not as sharply as she should have spoken to a house-elf servant who had just spoken disparagingly of a member of the family. It didn't matter that he was only quoting Severin, or that Selima probably agreed with him--one simply did not let an inferior "get above himself," but apparently Selima was too tired to take offense, which worried Snape a little.

"I'm sorry, Vorcher," Lupin said in a gentle voice, kneeling beside the house-elf. "This must be hard for you, having served Lord Severin for so long. But at least he lived long enough to see a new heir appointed, and now he is no longer in pain. You must be strong now, for the Mistress's sake; I am sure she will need your help in the days to come." Vorcher sniffled and hastily wiped his eyes on the faded tea cozy he wore as a tunic. "I assume there will be a funeral, or services of some sort?" Lupin asked Selima.

"Yes," Selima said, her black eyes becoming more alert and animated as she sat up straight. "There are arrangements to be made, announcements to be sent out...it will take extra effort and expense, but I think we can be ready by Sunday. That would be ideal, as most people will be off from school and work..."

"How convenient of Father to die on a weekend," Snape muttered sarcastically.

"Severus!" Lupin snapped, glaring at him.

"I would say that you should show your father some respect in death," Selima said coldly, "but it seems pointless, since you never showed him any in life."

Snape bowed his head in a show of contriteness, letting his hair fall forward over his face to hide his smile. He felt strangely relieved to hear his mother sounding like her old self again.

Like Selima, Vorcher seemed invigorated now that he had a purpose once more. Looking determined, he declared, "Then Vorcher must get everything in order! The house must be cleaned, and enough food must be cooked to feed all the guests!"

"Guests?" Lupin asked.

"Of course many important people will come to see the Snape Lord laid to rest!" Vorcher said indignantly, then ran off, presumably to start cooking and cleaning.

"Everyone who is anyone will come," Selima assured Lupin. "It doesn't matter that Severin lost his Ministry position years ago and became a recluse; he is still the head of one of the oldest pureblood families in the wizarding world."

"It's a pureblood thing," Snape told Lupin.

Selima smiled, a little bitterly. "If nothing else, they will come to gloat--the purebloods love watching each other's misfortunes. And no doubt they will come to get a look at the new heir--and my son's werewolf lover."

"Can Vorcher handle the housecleaning and all the food preparations by himself?" Lupin asked dubiously.

"The Headmaster told me to convey his sympathies, Mother," Snape said, "and to offer any help that might be needed."

Selima looked thoughtful. "Hmm...cooking and cleaning will keep Vorcher busy." She gave Lupin a shrewd look. "Which was your intention, was it not?" Lupin just smiled at her. "Most of the food can be prepared ahead of time today and tomorrow and kept fresh with a preservation spell, and I'll have some pastries delivered from the tea shop on Sunday. But he can't serve all the guests by himself; I was going to hire someone, but..."

"I'm sure that the Headmaster would be willing to loan us some of the Hogwarts elves," Snape said, making a mental note to request that Winky and Dobby not be included among them. He could just see his mother throwing a fit because one house-elf was drunk on butterbeer, and the other would probably affront the guests with his mere presence.

But Selima smiled slyly and asked, "Doesn't Lucius Malfoy's former house-elf work there now?"

"Uh, yes, Mother, but surely you wouldn't want--"

"A reminder of Lucius's comeuppance," Selima purred. "A reminder that the Malfoys have fallen, and the order of things has changed."

Lupin blinked, looking a little startled, but Snape was not surprised that his mother was using the funeral as an opportunity to do some political maneuvering--that was the Slytherin way, after all. "Very well, Mother. I will contact the Headmaster and take him up on his offer."

"Please thank him for me, Severus," Selima said. "Although I will of course send him a formal letter of thanks later."

"Yes, Mother."

"Is there anything we can do to help, Lady Selima?" Lupin asked.

"Hmm..." Selima pursed her lips thoughtfully, then glanced at Dylan and Theodore. "Do the boys have formal black dress robes?"

Snape had no idea, so he gave his sons a questioning look. Dylan shook his head. "My dress robes are gray."

"Mine are dark green," Theodore said.

"Our Hogwarts robes are black," Dylan added.

"That's not good enough for a funeral, at least for Theodore, as he is the new heir," Selima said. "It would be acceptable for Dylan to wear his school uniform since he isn't actually a member of the Snape family, but you had might as well take both of them shopping, Severus, and buy them black dress robes. You can charge it to the Snape account."

"I can pay for their clothes myself," Snape said stiffly.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, Severus!" Selima snapped. "You don't need to be so touchy; I wasn't trying to insinuate that you couldn't afford it! But you are the Snape Lord now, and you had might as well make use of the family account--that's what it's there for, after all."

"Yes, Mother," Snape said, his face turning a little red; it seemed that being the Snape Lord didn't preclude being scolded by his mother! But she was right, he supposed; there was no reason not to use the family account to buy robes for the funeral. It was just that he had been cut off from his family for so long, and had been so determined to make his own way in the world and take nothing from them. Old habits were hard to break.

"It's too late to have the robes custom-made," Selima said, frowning. "You'll have to buy them off the rack and have them altered if necessary. Madam Malkin's will do a rush job for an extra fee."

"I'm sure we can find something suitable, Mother," Snape replied. Actually, getting out of the house was beginning to sound like a good idea. He didn't care to linger in Snape Manor at the best of times, let alone be stuck in the mansion with his father's corpse and a weepy house-elf. The boys were looking relieved as well.

"You can buy the werewolf some robes, too," Selima said, a little grudgingly. "Not that it will make your relationship any less scandalous, but he ought to at least look presentable..."

Lupin just smiled, not looking the least bit offended; the werewolf claimed that he wasn't a saint, but he certainly had the patience of one. "The black robes Sirius gave me for Christmas will do, don't you think, Severus?"

Those robes were expensive and high-quality, but still a step down from formal dress robes. "If we're going to scandalize the wizarding world, Lupin, you had might as well be properly dressed while we do it," Snape quipped, and Selima glared at him as Lupin tried to fight back a laugh. "Let us be on our way, then."

"You go ahead without me, Severus," Lupin said. "One of us ought to stay behind and help Lady Selima with the funeral arrangements."

Selima gave him a startled look. "Well, that really is the heir's job..."

Much to Snape's relief, Lupin said in a reasonable tone, "But I can't take the boys shopping, as I would not be able to charge anything to the Snape account. So it only makes sense for Severus to go, and me to stay and help."

"I can manage on my own--" Selima started to protest.

"There's the undertaker to be contacted, and the florist," Lupin said, counting off tasks on his fingers, "and the tea shop for the pastry order, and the Headmaster for the loan of the Hogwarts elves. Not to mention notices to be sent out to the Daily Prophet and, I presume, 'everyone who is anyone,' as you put it." Selima still hesitated, and Lupin added cheerfully, "No one has to know that a werewolf helped you unless you tell them."

"Oh, very well," Selima said huffily, as if she were doing him a favor instead of the other way around.

"If you're sure," Snape said hesitantly, feeling a little guilty about leaving Lupin behind.

But his lover just smiled at him cheerfully and said, "Go ahead, Severus; we'll be fine."

"Come along, then," Snape said to Theodore and Dylan, and headed back towards the fireplace.

"Just one moment, Severus!" Selima said sharply. "Shouldn't you go pay your last respects to your father first?"

"Isn't that what the funeral is for?" Snape complained.

"Severus Snape!" Selima cried in outrage.

"All right, all right, I'm going," Snape grumbled, heading upstairs to his father's room, as Lupin and the boys followed anxiously behind. "Bloody waste of time," he muttered under his breath. "It's not like he'll know if I'm there or not."

Lupin apparently saw through his bluster, because he laid a hand on Snape's arm and asked softly, "Are you all right, Severus?"

"Not really," he replied curtly. "But let's just get this over with." Since his mother was not present and his father was unable to voice any objections, Snape brought Lupin into the room with him for moral support. He stared down at his father's body, which looked even more thin and wasted than it had the last time Snape had seen him, and Severin's skin looked pale and waxy, making him seem more like a doll or a mannequin than something that had, up until an hour or two ago, been a living person. He stared down at the man he had hated for so many years, the man who had alternately tormented and neglected him, and felt...nothing, save for a feeling of emptiness.

Lupin touched Snape's arm again, and Snape looked up and said gruffly, "Well, we've paid our respects; let's go."

"May you rest in peace," Lupin murmured to Severin's body before he turned to follow Snape out of the room.

"I didn't think that you had any fond feelings for my father, Lupin," Snape said peevishly, feeling uneasy and irritable, although he knew that he shouldn't be taking it out on Lupin. "He certainly didn't have any for you."

But Lupin's patience was still intact, it seemed. "I did not like him," Lupin replied quietly, "and I cannot forgive him for the way he hurt you when you were a child, but there is little point in hating a dead man." Snape flushed a little, wondering if that was directed towards his animosity for his long-dead rival, James Potter, which Snape could not quite seem to let go of. "And besides, it's bad luck to wish ill upon the dead," Lupin continued, leaving unsaid the fact that it was especially bad luck when the dead person was a wizard, who had the power to return as a ghost and haunt the living, although there was little chance that Severin would take that route--Lord Snape had been much too proud and strong-willed to settle for the half-life of a ghost. "And," Lupin added with a gentle smile, "in a roundabout way, Lord Severin's insistence upon having an heir led to you adopting Theodore, so I am grateful to him, if only for that."

Snape managed a small smile in return; trust Lupin to find the silver lining in a raincloud! "Yes," he said softly, placing a hand on Theodore's shoulder. "For that I am grateful."

"I will be a worthy heir, Father," Theodore told him solemnly.

"I know," Snape said, squeezing his shoulder. "Well then, Lupin, we'll be going. Are you sure you want to stay here with my mother?"

"I told you before, Severus, Lady Selima and I have reached a truce. I'll be fine; I'm more worried about you." He gave Snape a concerned look, and reached up to gently caress his cheek.

"I'm fine, Lupin," Snape said. It was not entirely true, but he was feeling much better than he had been a few minutes ago. Lupin hugged him and kissed him on the cheek, and Snape felt even better, although he told Lupin in a dry voice, "Thank you, Lupin, but try not to do that at the funeral, or my mother will have a fit."

"I'll try to restrain myself," Lupin laughed, giving him one more peck on the cheek.

***

Lupin said goodbye to his lover and sons, then went looking for Lady Selima. He found her in the study, talking into a communication mirror.

"Very well, Lady Snape," the image of a wizard clad in green robes said. "We'll have your order delivered first thing Sunday morning. My deepest condolences for your loss." The wizard bowed, and the mirror went blank.

"Isn't that Gareth Greengrass?" Lupin asked.

Selima looked up, startled. "Oh, Professor Lupin, I didn't hear you come in. Yes, I was arranging for Greengrass Florists to deliver some flowers to the funeral on Sunday. Do you know the Greengrasses?"

"Their daughter Daphne is one of my students," Lupin replied. "Well, one of Severus's students to be more precise, I suppose. She's a Slytherin."

"Oh?" Selima said, raising an eyebrow. "Perhaps the rumors are untrue, then."

"What rumors?" Lupin asked.

"That their blood is not as pure as it should be," Selima replied. "Gareth's mother never married and would never say who the father of her baby was. It caused quite a scandal at the time, you know. Her parents would have disowned her, but she was their only child and there was no other heir, so they accepted a bastard grandchild rather than let the Greengrass name die out. But people whispered that perhaps the father was someone unsuitable, like a Mudblood or a half-blood."

"Or perhaps a Gryffindor," Lupin said sarcastically. "That would surely be scandalous!"

"Quite," Selima said, with a faint, ironic smile. "And I suppose you are about to tell me that I should not be indulging in malicious gossip. And you would be right, if only because there is too much work to be done right now."

"How may I help you, then?" Lupin asked politely.

"We need to get the announcements sent out as soon as possible," Selima said, taking out some blank stationary and envelopes from a desk drawer. She hesitated, then handed him a leather-bound notebook filled with the names and addresses of prominent wizarding families. "I'll need to write out the announcements personally, but you can address the envelopes, if you don't mind." Lupin pulled up a chair to the front of the desk, dipped a quill in ink, and got started. "Write neatly," Selima ordered sternly, in a tone that made her sound not unlike a schoolteacher, and Lupin smiled.

He did his best to imitate Selima's elegant calligraphy, and held up an envelope for her inspection. "Will that do, Lady Selima?"

She blinked in surprise. "You don't have to copy my handwriting, Professor, just write neatly."

"I didn't want to give away the fact that a werewolf was aiding you," Lupin replied pleasantly.

Selima gave him an uncertain look, as if not sure whether he was mocking her or not. "Unless they can recognize your handwriting, people will probably assume that Severus, Theodore, or Vorcher helped me address the envelopes. And how do you know my handwriting so well, anyway?"

Lupin smiled. "It's quite distinctive, and I saw it clearly on all the letters you sent to Severus over the summer, not to mention your last invitation to tea."

"Oh," Selima said, still gazing at him suspiciously. "You would have made a talented forger, Professor; I suppose it's just as well that you're a noble Gryffindor."

Lupin laughed, and Selima gave him a small, dry smile in return, and they worked in silence for awhile. Selima set an enchanted quill to writing out the basic form letters: the notification of Severin's death, and the day, time, and place the funeral would be held (Sunday morning at 10:30 am on the estate grounds). Then she personalized each letter by filling in the name of the recipient and signing her name on the bottom. After they were both done, they began slipping the letters into the appropriate envelopes, sealing the envelopes with melted wax and stamping them with the Snape seal, and wrapping them with black ribbons. Lupin noticed that announcements were being sent to all the prominent pureblood families, as well as Ministry officials, the Weasleys among them, although he suspected that they would not have warranted an invitation if Arthur had not been appointed Minister of Magic. But there were a few omissions that he found puzzling.

"I don't see any letters for the Averys, Crabbes, Goyles, Pierces, or Zabinis," Lupin said.

"The first three are tainted by their connection to the Death Eaters," Selima sniffed, "and the last two are not of enough importance to warrant an invitation."

"You invited the Malfoys," Lupin pointed out.

"They're still wealthy enough that it would be wise not to snub them," Selima replied coolly. "But the others do not have enough wealth or influence left to be worth bothering with."

Lupin frowned disapprovingly. "Whatever you think of those families, their children are Severus's students. I'm sure they would like to pay their respects and show their support for--"

"Professor Lupin!" Selima shouted angrily. "Have you not meddled enough in the Snape family affairs?! You have everything you wanted--Severus remains your lover, and Theodore is the Snape heir! At least allow me to conduct my husband's funeral as I see fit!"

There was a slight edge of hysteria to her voice, unlike her usual tone of cold anger and contempt. Even if she had not loved Severin, they had lived together for forty years, and his death must be hard on her. If clinging to her rigid Slytherin rules of etiquette gave her comfort, then so be it, Lupin thought; he would not argue further. He and Dylan and Theo would be there to comfort Severus, along with Albus and Branwen--Selima had seen fit to issue a general invitation to the staff at Hogwarts, as well as personal invitations to the Headmaster and "Branwen, Lady Blackmore." No doubt Theodore would have liked his friends, especially Blaise and Damien, to be there, but as he barely knew Severin and would not really mourn him, Lupin thought his foster son would be all right.

"I apologize, Lady Selima," Lupin said quietly. "You are right; it is not my place to interfere."

Selima seemed surprised that he had given in so easily, but said nothing, and they returned to work. Everyone on Selima's list was a pureblood, with one notable exception: Harry Potter. Selima saw Lupin's small smile, although he tried to hide it, and said tartly, "Well, one can hardly snub the Savior of the Wizarding World." Lupin could almost hear the capital letters being projected by Selima's sarcastic voice. "Even if he is a half-blood."

That wasn't really true, but since Harry didn't want it becoming public knowledge that Voldemort had been his mother's real father, Lupin remained silent. When the letters were all sealed, Selima bound them together with a ribbon and gave them to the family owl, Socrates, to be delivered.

Lupin eyed the large stack of letters doubtfully and said, "Can he manage all those? Perhaps we should take some of them to the post office."

"He'll be fine," Selima said, unconcerned, and the owl seemed willing enough.

Lupin patted Socrates on the head and whispered, "I'll give you a treat when you get back." Selima gave him an annoyed look, and the owl hooted affectionately, then departed with the letters.

***

The students were having lunch in the Great Hall, speaking in hushed and subdued tones, when a great horned owl flew into the room. It dropped one letter in front of Harry on the Gryffindor table, then three letters at the staff table, then departed, looking rather harried. Harry nervously removed the black ribbon from the envelope and broke the seal, and Hermione and Ron leaned over his shoulders as he read the letter.

"It says here that Snape's dad's funeral is on Sunday," Harry said. "But surely Snape won't want me there; he hates me."

"Oh, he doesn't really hate you, Harry," Hermione said impatiently.

"Well, he doesn't exactly like me, either."

"And besides," Hermione continued, "this is signed by Selima Snape, not the Professor."

"And why would Snape's mother want me to come?"

Listening to this from the Slytherin table, Draco leaned over and called out, "Because you're the savior of the wizarding world, you dolt! Lady Selima will be inviting all the most important people in the wizarding world to Lord Severin's funeral, and that includes you, as much as it galls me to admit it. I'm sure Weasley's family will be getting an invitation as well, since his dad is Minister now."

"I notice you didn't get one, Malfoy," Dean smirked.

Draco flushed and snapped, "Of course the invitation would be sent to my mother at Malfoy Manor--clearly Potter isn't the only one who needs a lesson in etiquette!" But the Gryffindor boy's words stung because he wasn't at all sure there would be an invitation for the Malfoys, considering that their family had been disgraced, and Lucius Malfoy and Severin Snape had not been friends even in the best of times.

"Knock it off, Dean," Harry said irritably, and his friend subsided, a sulky look on his face. He wasn't at all sure that he wanted to attend this funeral; he had already seen enough death to last him a lifetime, and besides, he had never even met Snape's father. "I don't see how I can go," he said hopefully. "I mean, we're not allowed to leave the school without special permission."

But Dumbledore was tapping his goblet with his fork to get everyone's attention, then he rose to his feet and began to speak. "I am sure most of you have heard by now that Professor Snape's father passed away this morning," he announced. "Potions classes will be canceled for today--" There were a few grins and softly muttered expressions of appreciation, which quickly vanished in the face of disapproving looks from most of their classmates, and a sharp look of censure from the Headmaster. "Professor Snape requests that you study your Potions texts in the meantime, and prepare for a quiz upon his return." A few muffled groans, which also quickly died down. "I am sure that all of you will join me in offering our sympathy and support to Professor Snape and his family." Low murmurs from the students, mostly sympathetic, but a few uneasy and a few hostile. "Services for Lord Snape will be held on Sunday," Dumbledore continued. "I am sure that some of your families will be attending, and your parents will no doubt be contacting me shortly. Permission is granted for students to attend the funeral if they wish. Please contact your Head of House to make arrangements; Slytherins, please see myself or Professor Blackmore. For those who are not attending the funeral but wish to express their condolences, a sympathy card will be left in the Entrance Hall for the students to sign."

Dumbledore took his seat, and lunch resumed. "Do I have to go?" Harry asked plaintively.

"Of course you do," Hermione told him sternly. "Even if you and Professor Snape don't always get along, he still did his best to protect you from Voldemort. You have to go and show your support. And Professor Lupin could probably use your support as well; Dylan said that Lady Selima isn't too fond of him, and most of those snooty purebloods coming to the funeral will probably be looking down their noses at him."

"Then you guys will come with me, right?" Harry pleaded. "If I'm gonna do this, I'll need some support myself!"

"I suppose Mum will make me and Ginny go," Ron said reluctantly. "Though I don't know what for; I never even met Snape's father!"

"It doesn't matter whether we knew him or not. We're going for Professor Snape's and Professor Lupin's sakes," Ginny told him.

"I don't think I can go," Hermione said unhappily.

"Why not?" Harry asked. "You heard Dumbledore, he said it's okay. Besides, you're the one who's so concerned about Snape!"

"I want to go," Hermione protested, "but I'm not invited."

"Do you need an invitation to attend a funeral?" Harry asked.

Draco heaved a dramatic sigh, but before he could say anything, Hermione answered, "If it's the funeral of the head of one of the oldest pureblood families in the wizarding world, yes. It's in The Book of--"

"Wizard Etiquette, I know," Harry finished. "Will they turn you away if you show up uninvited?"

"Party crashing a funeral?" Ron asked, smiling a little. "Now that's weird!"

"They won't throw you out," Draco informed them. "It would cause too much of a commotion. But it's considered to be in bad taste to show up uninvited, and people will look at you like this--" Draco gave them his best arrogant, disdainful sneer. "--and whisper insults behind your back, like, 'Of course one can't expect a Mudblood to have any manners!'" Ron glared at him, and Draco said defensively, "Hey, I'm just explaining what will happen!"

"People like that will find an excuse to look down on those of us with Muggle blood no matter what we do," Harry said with a wry smile. "So who cares what they think? Please come, Hermione. I don't want to do this alone, and besides, you're the one who likes Snape best out of all of us."

"I really want to," Hermione said, looking torn. "I don't care what anyone says about me, but I don't want to upset the Professor by causing a scene at his father's funeral."

"Why don't you send a letter to Dylan?" Ginny suggested. "He's close to Snape, so he'll know whether the Professor would mind or not."

"Of course!" Hermione said, looking relieved. "Why didn't I think of that?"

"You can borrow Hedwig," Harry offered.

"Thanks, Harry."

"No problem," Harry replied; he was eager to have some moral support at this funeral.

Part 33