Burkett continued with the class, marked the finished potions -- Severus' was one of the few to earn a passing mark -- made a few choice cutting remarks, and dismissed everyone.
Note to self: Severus thought grimly, if I ever teach potions -- not bloody likely, but if -- I shall bloody well cut the idiots out after Fifth Year....
"Not you, Snape," Burkett called over the hubub.
He halted in gathering his things, and waited as the last few students left and Burkett tidied the ancient clerk's desk at the head of the room.
"Yes, sir?"
"We've been called to Headmaster's office," Burkett said.
"What for, sir?"
Try as he might, Severus couldn't think of any mischief that could be laid at his door.
"We'll find out there," Burkett said, pursing his lips and carefully wiping his quill before rising from the desk.
Severus was certain that Burkett knew bloody well what it was about -- the man just didn't want to tell him himself: so he kept his mouth shut, gathered up his things when Burkett headed for the door, and trailed after him.
"Come along, Snape," Burkett said wearily when Severus fell too far behind. "You're not in any trouble, boy. No need to dawdle."
Well, that's a comfort.
They made their way up to the Ground Floor and to Headmaster's office.
"Ah, Severus," Headmaster said softly when they entered. "Have a seat, please. Nathaniel, if you would be so kind as to stay --?"
Burkett nodded, face tired and grave, and seated himself across the room.
"Severus," Headmaster said quietly. "I'm afraid I have some bad news for you. Lord Snape died yesterday."
Severus stared at the old man for several long moments before he found his voice.
"Bu-- but he was fine over hol," he said childishly.
"It was quite sudden and unexpected. He simply didn't wake when the House Elf brought him his afternoon tea."
"Oh."
He sat for another moment, stunned, and then pulled himself to his feet.
"I'd best get ready to go, then, there'll -- there'll be the laying out and the --"
"Sit down, please, Severus," Headmaster commanded gently, and with a surprised plop Severus did.
"I'm afraid...."
Headmaster stopped for a moment, and glanced at Burkett -- and Severus was shocked to hear the Headmaster swear softly, under his breath.
"You... your cousin has written me and said you aren't required to attend, Severus."
"What?" he blurted out when he finally found his voice: he heard Burkett shift in his chair, behind him, and the man's surprised grunt, followed by a curse to match Dumbledore's.
"In fact," Headmaster said reluctantly, "I'm afraid your cou-- the new Lord Snape has specifically requested that you not attend."
"He can't do that," he said fiercely. "I'm Lord Snape's ward --"
He refused to dignify Matthew with the title, at the moment.
"-- I'm his nephew, for Merlin's sake -- Matthew has no right at all to deny me taking part in the funeral."
"I'm afraid he does, Severus. He has taken the rather, ah, ill-considered step of disowning you, which bars you from any claim to the usual familial rights and responsibilities. Including..." the old man paused for a moment, and took a deep breath, "including ever returning to Snape Hall. He said to tell you that he has reset the wards. You will never enter the grounds again while the wards stand."
Severus felt as though every bone in his body had melted away -- and then been shoved forcibly back into his skin.
"He can't -- I've given him no cause," he yelled, spitting in his rage, "and Lord Snape -- he --"
He said it was as much my home as Matthew's, he wanted to say; to insist upon his right to honour the only family member he'd known who'd had the decency to care for him, even distantly. Instead he found himself unable to utter another word, and gripped with the need to strike out at someone or something.
Severus jumped to his feet.
"He can't do that," he snarled, and swept a stack of parchments off the corner of Headmaster's desk before beginning to pace the room. He fairly itched with the need to destroy anything in his path -- in fact, several of Headmaster's more delicate glass curiosities began to tremble with the force of Severus' rage, and a porcelain shepherdess high on one bookshelf gave a squeal of terror and hopped to a nearby stack of books to hide.
"Snape, get yourself under control," Burkett commanded, and raised his wand -- Severus wasn't sure whether to put him in a Body Bind or restrain him with ropes, and he bloody well didn't care, and started to pull his own wand.
"Stop, both of you!" Headmaster commanded. "Nathaniel, perhaps you'd best go back to your class -- I'll handle this."
"He's about to go on a rampage, sir --"
"And who can blame him? Not me. They're just things, and they've been broken more times than I can remember -- it's quite all right. Go ahead."
Burkett cautiously replaced his wand and said more calmly, "I think you'd best go back to your dormitory when Headmaster is finished with you. I'll give you an excuse for the rest of today's classes."
"Thank you, Nathaniel, I agree that that would be best," Dumbledore said.
Burkett gave Severus a warning look -- remember with whom you're dealing -- and left the room.
"It's quite all right, Severus," Headmaster said quietly. "Blast away if you like -- but do try to avoid Fawkes. His tail feathers are coming in beautifully."
Severus would have liked to do nothing more than smash everything in sight -- he probably shouldn't even need his wand, the way he could feel his anger fuelling his magic, pushing him to lash out at something -- but suddenly he couldn't, his brain racing to analyse the consequences.
No chance to say good-bye. No home. No -- what about my things? What about my books, my herbals? Where do I go? I haven't even got a chance to say good-bye to Nanny --
He was frozen to the spot, his wand trembling in his hand, until Headmaster moved to face him and quite gently took his hand, pried the wand from his stiff fingers, and lay his other hand on Severus' head in a caress. That broke the spell, such as it was.
Severus couldn't tolerate any comfort or sympathy -- he felt himself on the verge of tears, and he'd be damned if he cried in front of the old man. He jerked away, stumbling, and began pacing again, finally stopping at one of the windows and fumbling with the casement-latch until it opened and his could suck in lungfuls of burning, chilly air.
"You were very fond of him, I see," Headmaster said quitely behind him.
Severus laughed. "I hardly knew him," he said bitterly. "But he was fair to me. And he told me that the Hall was my home, every bit as much as it was Matthew's. Bloody hell, we're the only two left, now, and I thought we'd -- I'd tried," he amended, "to be decent to Matthew, the last few holidays. Obviously it didn't take."
"It's possible it's because you're the last, Severus," Headmaster said. "Some people cannot tolerate a threat to their position. Lord Snape would appear --"
"Don't call him that," Severus said sharply. "Don't call him that in my hearing. As far as I'm concerned, there is no Lord Snape -- that can go both ways."
Headmaster paused, and eventually rather than trying to reason with Severus said, "Very well, Matthew Snape would appear to be one of them. I did try to persuade him to take a more reasonable course, but I failed -- I have very little influence with him. One of the disadvantages of his attending Beauxbatons, I suppose."
"There isn't a bloody thing I can do, is there? Nothing I can do to force him to let me go to the laying-out, if not the rites?"
"I'm afraid not. Nothing that could be done in another few hours' time, at any rate. If there were another family member of the blood they could file a petition so you might accompany them, but as matters stand.... I've already checked with my own solicitor on your behalf. I hope you don't mind?"
Severus shook his head.
"Damn him," he said, voice trembling. "Damn him to Hades and back. He might have had the decency to...."
"To let you attend the laying-out, at least? I quite agree. But his mind is set."
"Bloody.... I might as well have given as good as I'd got, these last two years," Severus said.
"I wouldn't go that far," Headmaster said. "Cruelty and idiocy on his part do not justify not doing what is right on yours. You took the high moral ground: you have nothing of which to be ashamed."
"I bloody well won't make that mistake again," Severus retorted viciously.
"Oh, Severus, I hope you will," Headmaster said, quite sadly. "We can't predict how others will choose to behave, but we can at least have satisfaction in knowing our conduct is beyond reproach."
Severus refused to respond, and simply huddled further into the window-seat.
Headmaster sighed, waved a steaming pot of tea onto the side-table, and urged, "Come and sit down, Severus, and have a cup. There are some other things we need to discuss."
Severus shook his head and kept his eyes on the lake, and bit his tongue until he tasted blood to prevent himself crying. Physical pain he could tolerate: emotional pain was another matter entirely. Better a pain he could control and tolerate uppermost in his mind, than the uncontrollable and intolerable ache that plagued him now.
"What am I to do?" he asked dully, when he'd got a grasp on himself. "Where am I.... I don't turn seventeen until October. I suppose it's the orphanage in Edinburgh."
"Not necessarily," Headmaster said as he poured himself a cup of tea. "You've the best Potions marks in a very long time, and your OWL in the subject was outstanding. I think Professor Burkett might be persuaded to take you on as an apprentice over summer hol -- your room and board would be provided, though since you're still a minor there wouldn't be a stipend. I believe he's taking his children to France in August, but we could arrange for you to come back to Hogwarts a bit early. I'm sure there are plenty of research materials in the library to keep you busy for two weeks."
"But how am I to pay for next year?"
"It's unusual but not unknown for Upper Formers to be granted standing as a Merlin's Scholar," Headmaster said carefully.
Severus shot him an outraged look.
"Don't be silly, lad. Emergencies such as this are precisely what it's intended for. As an alumnus you may contribute as much back as you like, if it makes you feel better about it. To look at it another way, Aloysius Snape donated quite a large sum for its establishment in the first place -- only fitting that you might benefit from it, given the circumstances."
Headmaster stubbornly poured a cup of tea for Severus and wafted it over to the window seat: Severus glared at him again, pulled the cup out of the air, and pointedly sat it down on the window-seat, out of easy reach.
"There is another possibility, you know," Headmaster said softly. "I could ask my solicitor to locate your mother."
That was almost as great a shock as everything else: Severus stared dumbly at the man for nearly half a minute.
"My -- my mother?"
"Yes, Severus," Headmaster said with a touch of exasperation. "You have one, like the rest of us, you know."
"I don't even know if she's alive, and I don't care."
"Now, why would you say that, Severus? And I can almost certainly assure you she's alive."
"Because she left me," he said savagely. "She left me and promised she'd be back, and she never came. What kind of bloody mother do you call that?"
"Oh, sweet Merlin, boy, she --"
Headmaster stopped, scratched at his beard a moment in puzzlement, and added uncertainly, "You really don't know, do you?"
"Know what?"
Headmaster muttered an oath under his breath, and Severus caught the words "bloody to-the-letter Aloysius Snape," amongst others.
"It was rather a scandal," Headmaster said tiredly. "When your father lost his position at Salisbury -- because of his illness, through no fault of his own -- your mother apparently went back to her people to try to make arrangements for the three of you. But by the time she'd found work for herself, your father had taken you to Snape Hall and had begun divorce proceedings on grounds of abandonment. Including barring her from custody or even the right to see you -- and it was granted, as it often is in favour of the father, although given the circumstances it was granted on the condition of Lord Snape having joint custody."
"Then why -- why didn't she contact Lord Snape after my father died?" he asked in outrage.
"I don't know, Severus. Perhaps she did, and he felt he had to follow you father's instructions regardless -- magical contracts are particularly hard to get 'round or to break on points like that. Or perhaps she didn't know -- after the proceedings she seems to have disappeared. I suspect she may have changed her name, perhaps gone to the Muggle world to escape the notoriety; any official Hogwarts letters to Margaret Williamson have been returned, so that's a distinct possibility. There's still a great stigma attached to divorce, and as your father managed to place the blame on her...."
Headmaster shrugged.
"I could contact Aloysius' solicitor and see if there was any correspondence from her that passed through his hands -- that would be a good starting-point."
"There's no point," Severus said flatly. "I won't -- I won't take any charity from a stranger. And that's exactly what she is."
Headmaster sighed. "Bloody stubborn Snapes," he muttered under his breath. "Someday, Severus," he added more distinctly, "perhaps when you're a parent, you may understand that people sometimes make very difficult and painful decisions out of love and their childs' best interest, no matter how much it hurts or may appear to be uncaring."
Severus ignored him. He was busy obsessing over the rotten options presented him.
Gods, the humiliation of it all. Bad enough to be disowned -- Black and Potter will be crowing about that within a day or two -- but to have to become a Merlin's Scholar on top of that....
Headmaster watched the gangly, miserable boy -- strike that, young man -- and knew precisely what he was thinking.
"I can't guarantee you that your cousin won't publish the disowning in the Prophet -- though I doubt that he will," he said quietly, "as it doesn't reflect at all well on himself. And the court records are sealed, so there's no need for anyone to know, not unless you want to make a petition for legal emancipation before October. But I'd suggest you go the appreticeship route instead, albeit informally."
"Don't have much choice, do I?" Severus muttered. "Not unless I want to be out on the street. But the scholarship --"
"Those are only publicised after Leaving, when the plaques and memorials in the Entrance Hall are updated. There's no need for anyone to know but the Board of Governors -- and there's no current members who will tattle -- Professors Burkett and McGonagall, and myself."
Severus' shoulders slumped in relief, and Headmaster knew he'd gained ground.
"You needn't decide immediately," he said. "Take a few days. But please, Severus, don't throw it away because of pride. You've too much potential to waste it by cutting your schooling short. I'll help you any way that I can, if you'll allow me."
"Like you helped me last term?" Severus noted maliciously. "You'll only go so far, won't you?"
Headmaster sat up very, very straight, his eyes snapping with anger.
"There are circumstances which you still, obviously, refuse to comprehend," he said softly, "so let me point out to you that the person in question is in nearly the same situation in which you find yourself today. Nothing would have been served by expelling him. You were badly frightened, but not harmed, and I did explain the situation to Lord Snape -- in full -- who accepted my handling of the matter. You don't have to like the way it played out, but you are in no position to judge."
That stung. Badly. Severus could care less about the werewolf's situation, whatever it was -- except for his continued presence at Hogwarts, of course -- but everyone knew old Mrs. Black had disowned her son and left him to fend for himself. No one could ignore the Howler she'd sent, along with the formal document -- but he hadn't quite made the connection between his situation and Black's until that moment.
Severus quavered a bit under the weight of the old man's anger, but instead of backing down or apologising, he simply turned away and pressed his forehead to the casement.
"I'm sorry, my boy, but there it is" Headmaster said softly behind him. "You are not the only person of whom I have the charge and care. I must try to find a balance, and there are times when it's bloody difficult."
Severus stared out the window and finally muttered, "I really don't care, right now."
"I'm sure you don't. But, again, perhaps someday you'll understand the need to do things you don't like for the benefit of others. That's the best defence and advice I can give you."
Severus continued to stare out at the lake.
"For goodness' sake, Severus, have some tea," Headmaster finally said in exasperation. "And hate me all you like at the moment, but don't let it harm your future. There's more at stake here than holding a grudge."
"Don't like it that light," Severus muttered to avoid the real issue.
"The tea? How do you take it?"
"Dark as possible. No sugar."
"Well, why didn't you say?"
Headmaster twitched his finger in the direction of Severus' cup, and it filled instantly with a black, bitter tea -- which Severus was then obliged to sip at.
"You might like to know," Headmaster said, "that Professor McGonagall will be going to the Hall later today -- and attending the rite, as she was His Lordship's apprentice."
"Good for her," Severus mumbled.
"She'd said she'd wear her best McGonagall tartan. And a Slytherin badge," Headmaster added casually.
"Whatever for?"
"To thumb her nose at your cousin, of course. She was with me when the owl came -- I've never seen her so angry. Should you like her to take any messages to anyone? Other than your cousin, of course," Dumbledore added hastily at the calculating look that passed over Severus' face.
"No, then," Severus said gloomily. "Jordan wouldn't give a toss, and Nanny... Nanny knows how to reach me."
"Very well. Let's see, what else was there.... Oh. I've taken the liberty of sending to Gringott's for you, to get you a vault."
"What for? I don't have a bloody thing in the world besides what's left of this term's pocket-money."
"His Lordship apparently set a little aside for you. Next years' tuition, presumably."
"Why didn't you say before?" Severus said indignantly.
"Because, firstly, you can't touch it until you're seventeen. And, secondly, there's no need. You're better off hanging onto it for an after-Leaving nest-egg," Headmaster said.
"You should have said."
"Wouldn't have considered the apprenticeship nearly as seriously, would you?" Headmaster said cheerfully, and then sobered. "Besides, I'm .... I'm afraid I have an ulterior motive, Severus. I think perhaps you've noticed that Professor Burkett's been a bit at sea, lately, with losing his wife. You could be a help to him, and I'd consider it a great favour."
"Bloody...."
Headmaster had the cheek to grin at him.
"All right, fine. But it's a bloody big favour. Sir," Severus shot out.
"That it is. But it will give you good practical experience, too. You'll be a year ahead of everyone else, you know, in terms of your employment history. Year and a half, I should imagine, given how quick you are."
"I suppose," Severus grunted, and stared out the window.
Headmaster rose and joined him, perching on the edge of the windowseat.
"I know it's a great deal to take in," he said softly, "and it's hard to lose everything in one shot, I'm sure."
"Lose what?"
"His Lordship, the Hall -- after all, you are -- were -- next in line for the title."
"Never expected that," Severus said distantly. "I always assumed he'd marry -- some heiress, probably, so he shouldn't have to work. It's -- it's my books, mostly. Some His Lordship had given me. And the herbals I'd kept when I started tending the Potions Garden. I should have liked to have kept those."
"Well, I'm glad to know those and His Lordship are all, then. Although I suppose you'll miss your old nanny."
The boy shrugged listlessly.
"She's better off. She can't work any longer, and I can't support her."
"Perhaps you ought to send her a note through Professor McGonagall. Just so she knows you're squared away, so she doesn't worry."
Severus snorted. "She will anyway."
"I know she will, but she's a woman -- what can you expect? They have an annoying tendency to worry over us, whether we need or deserve it," Headmaster retorted whimsically. "Rather an endearing trait, actually, if you look at it in the right light."
Severus wasn't in the mood to.
"Let me see what I can do about getting your things. They're of no use to your cousin, after all."
"He'll keep them," Severus said decisively. "I mean, that's the whole point of this, isn't it? Humiliate me as much as possible? He'll probably say they were bought with Estate money, and belong to the Estate."
"Ah. I think you've probably hit the nail on the head, Severus, that's quite likely precisely what he intends. But that doesn't mean you should be humiliated," Headmaster said sadly, and patted Severus' knee gently before moving away to his desk -- and secretly resolving to give Matthew Snape a piece of his mind about this whole pathetic business should he ever run into him. Only after getting whatever concessions he could out of the idiot though, of course. "Why don't you have a seat over here and write that note -- Professor McGonagall will have to leave, soon."
He wrote a short, terse note to Nanny, telling her not to worry; left it in Dumbledore's hands; went directly to the dormitory, neither speaking nor responding to questions from anyone; and he did not, in fact, speak a single word for the rest of the day, even when Burkett -- stern, highly-strung Burkett, who never showed anything but the most perfunctory interest in his students' emotional well-being -- brought him a covered plate to his room and chivvied him into eating a few bites of dinner, and then left him with an abrupt and unexpected, "I'm sorry, Snape."
Professor McGonagall provided an excellent distraction when she marched into the Slytherin Common Room.
"Mr Snape?" she barked out. "If you'd come with me, please."
Severus' head shot up -- along with everyone else's -- and he stared at her.
"What --"
"Don't 'what' me, young man, you know very well what this is about," she snapped. "Come along. Or would you prefer a dressing-down in front of your Common Room? I can oblige."
Severus stumbled to his feet, with the distinct feeling that he was deep in the midst of a nightmare -- he honestly couldn't think of anything he'd done -- and followed her out into the corridor.
"My office," she rapped out, and he followed her out of the dungeons and to her office on the ground floor.
"Professor, I honestly don't understand --" he said indignantly as she herded him through the door.
"Oh, hush, Mr Snape," she said as she closed the door and brushed past him. "Sit down."
He caught a whiff of smoke -- not clean woodsmoke, but a sickeningly familiar smell of pitch and the other remnants of a ritual burning, and grabbed at the back of the side-chair as a wave of vertigo passed over him.
"Sit down, Severus," she said more kindly. "I simply didn't want to cause any difficulty for you in the Common Room. I've been up to something rather, er, illicit, and I shouldn't like it to make its way back to your cousin."
Severus collapsed into the chair and stared at her.
"Firstly," she said, "I gave Moira the note and assured her you'd be well. She's quite distraught, and doesn't know when she can write -- he's forbidden her to, the berk -- but she says she'll do so as soon as she can find a way. Secondly," she said, drawing out a wrapped bundle, "Mr Jordan, ah, procured some items for me to bring to you -- a few of your personal things."
She unwrapped the bundle and pulled out a few of Severus' more prized books -- including Medicinall Herbes of England and Their Divers Uses and two of the books His Lordship had bought for Severus.
He stared at the books, and then reached out with trembling hands to take them.
"But why --"
"Oh, Jordan and Moira are enfuriated with him, absolutely enraged, and so are Darby and Joan. They knew how your uncle felt, as does your cousin, and they see it as a betrayal of His Lordship's wishes -- and so they should. And this," she said, drawing out another package, "are documents relating to you. Jordan was working as His Lordship's secretary since you left for Hogwarts, you know, and he hid these things straightaway, before your cousin took possession of His Lordship's study. Your birth certificate, official documents, things like that -- I should have Headmaster send them on to Gringott's, if I were you."
He stared at the packet -- it was rather thick, considering what a relatively incident-free life he thought he'd had -- and let it sit on the desk.
"I didn't know he cared," he mumbled.
"Jordan? Well, he certainly cares about His Lordship's wishes, and he always appreciated your intelligence, I'm sure -- it's simply that, like some others of us, your excessive energy as a child was rather overpowering. I think, though," she said carefully, and pulled out a handkerchief-wrapped item from her reticule, "that you might appreciate this most."
She unwrapped the handkerchief and pulled out His Lordship's watch.
"Why did you.... I can't take that --"
"You most certainly can -- it's what His Lordship wanted, and I didn't go to all this trouble for you to be squeamish about it," McGonagall said defiantly. "He'd told Jordan just last week -- he'd been feeling very puirly, I take it -- that he ought to give it to you for your Leaving present. It was what he wanted, and by Merlin, Jordan saw to it."
"Look, Matthew will miss that, we both saw him check it, frequently --
"Jordan and I don't give a hippogriff's ar-- bum what your cousin thinks. If you're discreet, no one will know."
She held the watch out to Severus on the flat of her palm and he slowly picked it up, running his fingers over the well-worn gold case, and carefully popped the catch to look at the enamelled face.
Severus felt very much as though he should like to sink into the floor. It was all far, far too much: His Lordship's sudden death; Matthew's cruelty; learning of both those and, in the same hour, having had to make an important decision about his own survival. And now to learn that Jordan, Nanny, the blasted House Elves, and Professor McGonagall -- prim, upright, letter-of-the-law McGonagall -- had fought and were willing to resort to collusion and outright thievery, for him.... It was far too much to bear with any dignity.
It was just going eight o'clock and the tiny bell inside the watch mechanism began to chime the hour, just as it had for His Lordship as long as Severus had known him.
He stared up at McGonagall, said "Thank you," very softly, and nearly disgraced himself: he could feel the tears welling up into his eyes.
"Oh, Severus," he could barely hear McGonagall say through the pounding in his ears, and he felt her press the handkerchief into his free hand. "Child, I'm so sorry. I should have -- blast it, I always do this," she muttered. "I barge about all bull-and-china-shop and tread all over people's feelings -- typical Gryffindor, my mother always said.... I should have given you a few days to come to terms with everything...."
"N-- no," he finally gasped out. "I'm g-- glad you did, before it -- before everyone knows. I don't think I could have borne it, putting up with the ragging without knowing --"
He couldn't manage to express the rest of the thought, and foundered a bit before finally settling for a good long nose-blow.
"Well, as to that, the notice of His Lordship's death will appear in the Prophet tomorrow morning," she said gently, "although there will be no mention of the disowning. I made certain," she added grimly, "that that bluidy -- that your cousin understood how badly the old families would take such an idiotic step on his part, and he wouldn't be wise to let it get about."
"That didn't stop Black's mother," Severus said morosely.
"Black's mother is a -- well, she doesn't care about the opinion of others, she rates her own so highly," McGonagall said with a disapproving sniff. "Though if you say I said so, I shall deny it."
Severus managed to pull himself together, and, highly embarrassed by his lack of control, said "What happened today?"
"Rather a lot of people showed up. Jordan and I slipped away while your cousin was busy with the crowd, and then I attended the rite. Which went spectacularly poorly, I might add -- your cousin hadn't bothered to learn it properly, and old Mortimer had to coach him though it. Disgraceful."
"I suppose this should go to Gringott's too," Severus said regretfully, and placed the watch on the stack of documents.
"Really? Shouldn't you like to keep it with you?"
"I'd like to, but.... Well, it's too fine to keep with me. Someone might make off with it, or bang it about," he said, thinking of Black and Co.
"Let me think a moment," McGonagall said, and drew out her wand. "The first problem is the chime, I suppose.... But it's very useful. Suppose we charm it to go silently? You'll still feel the beat of it if you keep it in a waistcoat-pocket, I think."
Severus nodded, and she charmed the watch silent: and then, for good measure, she put a glamour on it, changing the bright damascened gold to a dull pewter, and added a protective charm as well.
"There you are," she said, placing it in his hands. "When you're ready you may perform Finite Incantatum, in reverse order on the charms -- I've set it to respond to you."
Lord Snape had been right. McGonagall was bloody good at Transfigurations, and a dab hand at Charms as well: Severus felt no trace of magic about the watch, and neither would anyone else.
"Thank you," he said softly, and slipped it into the breast-pocket of his jacket.
"I shall deny any knowledge of it, of course, if you let anything slip -- but then, you won't. One thing I can say for Slytherins is they know how to keep secrets," she said primly. "Now, you'd best get back -- don't forget the books, and I shall take the other things to Headmaster."
She led him to the door and opened it -- and he jumped a foot when she suddenly said, in her most shrill tones, " -- and if I ever catch you in such disgraceful behavior again, I shall take more points than Slytherin can make up in a year!"
Then she slammed the door in his face.
He'd only gone a few yards down the corridor when it opened again.
"And I want that essay on my desk no later than Thursday noon, young man!"
She'd shut the door again before he even had a chance to turn around.
McGonagall, he'd decided by the time he made his way back to the Common Room, was Not Too Bad for a Gryffindor.
He rather wished he hadn't accepted after his first session with Burkett, immediately after the other students had left.
"Headmaster explained the terms to you?" Burkett asked him.
"Yes, sir."
"Good. You'll have to sleep in the boys' room -- it's that or the attic."
Severus would have preferred the attic -- the Burkett boys were troublemakers, he'd noted when they'd been allowed to attend Feasts -- but Burkett's nerves had been on edge all year, and it wouldn't do to cause a fuss.
"I've no doubt the quality of your work will be acceptable, Snape," Burkett said heavily, "but frankly, it's your attitude that has me worried. While I don't believe you would ever deliberately taint a potion, I've noticed you're not above making it less palatable if you think one of that Gryffindor lot will be the test subject."
He stopped and stared at Severus a moment, daring him to deny it, and then spoke to him far more intently than he had all year, since his wife had died.
"Bewing potions," he continued, "particularly medicinal potions, carries an immense responsibility. It's a sacred trust, and you have a responsibility to both the mediwizard and the patient to ensure not only the efficacy of the potion, but to minimise any side-effects and maximise its pleasantness -- with magic, if necessary, if the addition of sweeteners will detract form effectiveness.
"You must learn almost as much about Disease as the mediwizard, and how your potion will affect it, how best to adjust it to treat any complications. You must educate yourself about interactions between potions and potential reactions stemming from them, and take steps to prevent that. In short, there is far more to medicinal potions than to purely magical, theoretical ones. Much of your work over the hol will be learning all the available literature, so you have that knowledge to hand.
"And in the meantime I'm going to set you one potion in particular on which to concentrate. It's very delicate -- in fact, it's an experimental potion that the Ministry has only just given permission to outside researchers to work on, so you should consider yourself honoured. It's for treatment of lycanthropy."
Severus did not like where this was heading.
"Surely I won't need --"
"Oh, but you shall need it, Snape," Burkett said, and rose and began to pace the office. "You shall need to master it over the summer. It is by no means a cure, but it seems to dampen the beast's enthusiasm somewhat -- although there are some significant side-effect for the human."
He suddenly rounded on Severus, and nearly pinned him to his chair.
"Did you know Remus Lupin's father was sacked because word of last year's little fiasco got out?" he hissed. "Not because he is a werewolf, oh, no, but because his son is -- the prejudice runs that deep. Remus Lupin will be living and working in Hogsmeade over the hol, to support himself, and will require the Limiting potion -- and you are going to brew it."
"I didn't -- I swear I didn't say a word, not even to Lord Snape --" Severus said indignantly.
"Immaterial," Burkett snapped, and rounded on him. "It doesn't matter who told, Snape, or why, as far as you're concerned -- it doesn't negate your responsibility to a patient. And don't think," he added pointedly, "that I've missed that you continue to take your temper out on Lupin, despite the fact that he was apparently blameless. He is not responsible for his friend's idiocy, and you have no right whatsoever to deny him aid, not if you want to consider yourself a Potions Master in future. Fail at this, or do anything at all to compromise Lupin's well-being -- or that of the community -- and I shall see to it that you can't get a job with the grottiest apothecary in Europe."
After that Burkett collapsed into his chair, exhausted, and waved his hand in dismissal.
"Go on, get your things," he muttered. "Headmaster's given us leave to take a carriage to the house."
Severus stalked from the room, very nearly determined to chuck it all.
Burkett couldn't have found a more humiliating project for Severus if he'd thought it out with both hands, for a decade.
But Severus did learn to brew the potion, straight off -- though he had two failed attempts, which convinced him it was worthwhile purely for the challenge, at least.
Once he was satisfied with Severus' competence Burkett would disappear for hours on end and return snappish and distracted: one day Severus followed him, dodging behind trees and buildings to avoid being seen, and found Burkett's destination was an ancient, crowded cemetery, and Burkett himself was crouched over his wife's grave, sobbing his heart out.
Severus slunk away, for once thoroughly ashamed of himself.
But August came as well, and Burkett took his whining brood off to his wife's family in France, and Severus was left in blissful peace with only the damned House Elf for company. He walked daily to Hogwarts to spend time in the library -- and to prise a decent lunch out of the Elves -- and returned to the cottage in the evenings to go over his notes and brew the potions Burkett had told him to complete, in his absence.
Including the experimental Lycanthropy Limiting Potion. Lupin would require it while Burkett was away.
"Master Snape," Peasecod hissed from the doorway of Burkett's dingy little brewing shed.
"What?" Severus grunted.
"Master Snape, Mr Lupin is here."
Damn and Blast.
"Then bring him out," Severus muttered.
"But Master Nathaniel is always taking it to the house --"
"Bring him out here," Severus snapped at the Elf. "I refuse to wait hand and foot on that... creature."
"Yes, Master Snape," Peasecod said faintly, and scurried off.
The door creaked open again a few minutes later, and Lupin asked tentatively, "Where's Professor Burkett?"
"Away," Severus muttered. "Potion's over there, on the back burner," he said with a jerk of his head, refusing to look at Lupin. "Help yourself -- I'm busy."
He heard Lupin shuffle over to the burners and search vainly for the appropriate goblet.
"How long's he been gone?"
"Two weeks," Severus said tersely, and felt considerable satisfaction when Lupin hissed in alarm.
"Then who --?"
Severus swivelled around on the stool and stared at him. "I did," he said smugly. "In fact, I brewed the last two doses."
Lupin stared back, eyes apprehensive.
"But he supervised, surely."
"The other batches, yes. But not this one."
Lupin continued to stare disbelievingly, and Severus had plenty of time to observe him: the thin frame that never seemed to fill out as the others' -- even Severus' -- had; the badly-mended clothes, dirty -- whatever Lupin was doing to survive, it was rough work; the dark circles under his eyes, and a nervous twitching of his fingers, symptomatic of the approaching full moon.
Severus' mouth twisted up at the corners, and he made no move to conceal his approval of Lupin's condition.
"Severus, you wouldn't.... You know this is very important --"
"Are you implying I'd taint a potion?" Severus interrupted him. "Any potion, much less one that could prevent half of Hogsmeade being ripped to shreds?"
Lupin winced at that, and looked doubtful.
"No," he finally said. "No, I don't think you would. Not," he added distinctly, "when you of all people know what's at stake."
"Quite right," Severus retorted, and threw in a sneer for good measure. "Rest assured, Lupin, it was brewed properly. Now take it and get out -- I'm busy."
He turned back to his current project.
"I can't find the goblet," Lupin said softly, "and Professor Burkett said it had to be that particular one...."
Severus sighed in exasperation (secretly delighted to have Lupin grovelling, of course), moved to the storage cabinet, and rooted amongst the jumbled contents before pulling the battered vessel out.
"I suppose you don't know the dosage, either," he grumbled as he strode over to the cauldron.
"'Course not. You know it's not in the books yet," Lupin said.
"You of all people should already know, you've downed enough of it."
"You know it wouldn't matter -- I don't have the skill to brew it. I knew you were good, Severus, but not this good. Congratulations."
That mollified Severus somewhat, though he'd be damned if he let Lupin know.
Lupin watched intently as Severus carefully ladled the potion into a graduated flask, and then transferred it to the goblet.
"I really appreciate this, you know --"
"Don't," Severus said. "Just -- don't. I'm not doing it for you, personally. It's just a brewer's responsibility, pure and simple. I don't want your bloody thanks."
He thrust the goblet at Lupin, who took it, and watched as Lupin gritted his teeth, held his breath, and downed the putrid stuff.
"Merlin's --" he gasped, and then had to stop for a moment and fight to keep it down, shuddering. "I swear tastes worse every time," he finally managed when he could breathe again.
Severus glanced at him sharply, distracted from cleaning the goblet.
"Have you told Burkett that?" he demanded.
"No -- I know it can't be altered, so what's the point?"
"Because your body may be building up a resistance, that's why -- it happens with some Limiting potions. You may need to go off it for a month or two until your metabolism resets itself.
"Oh, bloody -- I didn't know that could happen."
Severus mentally cursed Burkett for not warning Lupin.
Lupin gave another shudder.
"I can't.... Well, let's put it this way -- what you must've seen was with the potion. It's, ah, rather worse without, they tell me."
"They? Your dear, murderous friends?"
Lupin glared at him.
"James and Sirius."
"Precisely."
"Look, I don't like what happened any more than you do, but you've got to admit that James saved your life."
"Spare me Potter's virtues, please. He shouldn't have had to."
"If you hadn't been --" Lupin started to retort, and then froze and relaxed, shoulders slumping.
"You're right, he shouldn't have. I only...."
Lupin gripped the counter-edge and took a deep breath.
"I didn't know about that part of it, you see. S-- the dog keeping you in. Sirius told me you'd been snooping and he'd caught you, and that was all. I didn't get the whole story until Peter let something slip and I asked James about it."
"Covered for Black even to you, did he?"
"No, I don't think he.... Headmaster'd made him promise not to talk about it. He finally wrote me and told me, just after they left. Probably hoped I'd calm down over summer. If it's any consolation, I'm going to have it out with Sirius when they get back."
Severus stared him down for a long moment, and then muttered, "At least one of you has a sense of decency."
But Lupin wasn't listening: he was staring off into the middle distance.
"He has no idea what it's like," he said suddenly. "It's all a game to him, a big adventure. He's never felt the pain of the transformation, or seen the horror on peoples' faces when they find out, and he can't seem to imagine it, either. He's actually wanted to loose the wolf and... and watch it hunt in the Forest -- can you believe that?" he asked Severus earnestly, honestly puzzled. "As if ripping apart an animal is something I'd like to do, even if it was necessary."
Severus stared down at him -- granted, he'd shot up over the past year, but Lupin had hardly changed as yet, stunted -- and beat back his growing discomfort with Lupin's sudden confidences to him. It might, after all, be useful to let him talk: but it was difficult to meet Lupin's sincere, pain-filled eyes.
"He's my friend and I care about him, but there's something missing in him. He doesn't always understand the consequences of his fun, and after this I'm ready to give up hoping that he'll ever learn."
"Well, he'd better bloody well figure it out," Severus said maliciously. "Although if you ask me, it's wasted hope. He's barking mad."
"No, he's not, it's just...."
Lupin stopped, bit his lip, and tried again.
"I would never willingly risk infecting someone with this, Severus. I thought he understood that, and I could trust him."
"That makes it worse, then."
"You're right, it does. Much worse, in a way, because the potion leaves a tiny bit of me in here that understands what's going on -- but not enough to keep the beast from doing what it wants. I'd have ripped you apart that night -- if you were lucky," Lupin admitted bitterly, "and if you weren't I'd have only managed to wound you, maybe bite you, before James got you out, and then you'd... well, you'd be like me, and I'd have to live with knowing I'd harmed someone. James and Peter understand all that, but I don't think it's quite got through to Sirius."
"Oh, I think it has," Severus said softly. "He left a bloody parchment on the table, twitting me. He wanted me to go further into that room, wanted that dog to keep me there. He knew exactly what he was doing, and he didn't care. He still doesn't care."
Lupin looked even sicker at that, if that were possible -- stunned, as though it had never occurred to him, the foolish, trusting Gryffindor, that his friend might betray him: that Black's hatred of Severus Snape could make that betrayal worthwhile. (Severus supposed it never had crossed Lupin's mind -- such minute appraisals of motivations were alien to Gryffindors though, needless to say, commonplace in Slytherins. Including toward ones' best friends, if not especially, and assuming one had any.)
"For what it's worth, Severus, I'm sorry."
Severus snorted again and moved back to the other worktable.
"I know it doesn't help much, not when it doesn't come from him --"
"Bloody right," Severus said. "The only thing that would help at the moment is having you out of my sight"
There was shocked silence behind him, and then Lupin finally said, "Fine. That I can do. It's gone late, anyway, and I need to go lock myself up."
Severus ignored him.
"But thanks anyway, Severus, whether you want it or not," Lupin said from the doorway, and disappeared.
Severus breathed a sigh of relief, and relaxed enough to let the tremor in his hands register.
He'd bloody well better have it out with Black, he thought, and was cheered with Maybe this will break up Potter's little gang for good.
Though Black will find a way to blame me for that, too.
When he'd calmed enough and his hands were steady he went back to chopping slugs, until something Lupin had said came back to him.
'Peter let something slip and I asked James about it.'
His knife stilled on the cutting-board -- leaving one unfortunate bi-sected slug writhing in agony -- as he mulled over the ramifications of that.
Pettigrew wasn't at the Shack that night, or outside. In fact, Potter said he'd gone to bed.
So how did he know anything at all to 'let slip?'
A grin creased his face.
Either
1. Potter told Pettigrew in defiance of Dumbledore's orders, and without telling Lupin,
or
2. Pettigrew was in on the plot with Black, against Potter and Lupin. Assuming Potter's not a damned good liar, which is a possibility.
or even
3. That bastard Black wasn't lying, and he didn't leave the map. Pettigrew did...... and who in bloody blazes told the world about Lupin? How did it get back to his father's employer?
It couldn't have been Black, surely. He'd been estranged from his family for over a year, and Severus doubted Headmaster would have sent notice to Mrs Black. And Potter had seemed so concerned about protecting Lupin that he wasn't the likely blabbermouth.
Which leaves... Pettigrew.
It didn't much matter, at whichever angle one looked at it. Potter's gang wasn't nearly as tight as they liked to make out.
And if Lupin followed through on his promise to confront Black, next term might well see the gang blow itself to bits. The cracks were already there: some judicious prying at them might be all it took, if Lupin's anger wasn't enough.
Next term might actually be tolerable. If Black's mates chuck him, I can handle him alone...
Severus resolved to keep an eye on Pettigrew, the potential Slytherin cuckoo in the Gryffindor nest. Perhaps a few rumours sent Potter's way would flush him out.
Or perhaps he'd be more useful intact. For misinformation purposes, of course -- there was no possible way Severus could trust the slimey little toad. Anyone who would stab their own friends in the back for a bit of mischief (at best) or a deliberate attempt to set them up for murder (at worst) was no one you could put any trust in whatsoever.
Devious little bastard. I wonder how he's got away with it, as thick as he's always seemed?
Suddenly much happier, Severus returned to his slug-chopping, whistling unconsciously.
Lupin did have it out with Black -- not publicly, Severus hadn't expected that given the subject, but there was a distinct chill between them: Lupin tended to absent himself from Black's presence whenever possible. Severus assumed the git hadn't apologised, for his usual arrogance was intact, and he blatantly ignored Lupin's coolness.
Potter was a different matter, though. He'd been named Head Boy (damn and blast it -- the Limiting Potion made Lupin so ill he couldn't keep up with studies and Head Boy), and there was a curious change in his attitude: more serious, less mischeivous, no pranks that Severus got wind of -- and no overt, regular harassment toward himself or the other Slytherins. He was actually civil to Severus on several occasions, though Severus was at pains to give him no such reciprocal courtesy. He rather suspected that the end of Spring term would see a spectacular, final parting gesture, and he was not about to lower his guard.
Black didn't care for the change in Potter at all. He sulked rather publicly when Potter would intervene, and after a bit he pulled away, keeping to himself most of the time. Pettigrew continued to trot at the heels of them all, sucking up and apparently trying to play peacemaker. And this continued until well after the Yule hol, when they seemed to come to some kind of internal truce amongst themselves and could tolerate each others' company again.
It was too late, though. Potter was well-established as an authority figure by then, and had caught on that the approval of the faculty and respect of all the students, not just Gryffindors, gave him far more satisfaction than any pranking could.
Severus, despite his continuing conviction and rage that Black had never been properly punished, was intensely satisfied, and continued to brew the Limiting potion for Lupin with a rather more professional attitude than he had over the summer.