Valkyrie Kat

Snacks And Letters - Part 92

Sun, 08 Apr 2012 14:42:58 GMT

Authors: sionna_raven and valkyriekat
Title: Snacks and Letters- Part 92
Word Count: 3016

~Sirius~

About ten minutes later we can hear the splashing sound of swimmers emerging from the water, followed by muttered drying spells. Harry, Ron and Percy Weasley enter the cave first and walk up to us.

Caradoc hovers in front of Harry.

“Just like your father. I'm very pleased to meet you, Harry Potter. Kingsley has informed me about your defeat of Voldemort. Congratulations! James would have been very, very proud. I'm sure Sirius is.”

Harry still gets embarrassed about such greetings and mutters a thank you. The ghost carries on.

“You were so little when I last saw you and James and Sirius were completely mad about you. Lily said she should put protection spells around you to make them leave you alone for a minute. Do you remember, Sirius? When you....”

“Harry has grown to big for me to carry him around all the time.” I don't think Harry wants to hear any baby stories right now. Not here, not now and not when he actually looks a bit annoyed at the situation.

Percy is talking to the Minister.

“Yes, I've informed the Muggle authorities as you wished. Officially we're undertaking an archaeological dig. Henderson is roping-off the beach and Watkins is building a bridge to the Apparition rock. We should be able to start removing...,” he swallows as he looks around. “the remains …. in half an hour.”

“I have no doubt that you arrange all to perfection, Percy. Caradoc has offered to help us with a list of the names and where possible dates and causes of death. Some of the dead Muggles were very confused and some were as Sirius already presumed stolen from their graves. They just want to return without upsetting their relatives. The wizard relatives however will want to know what happened. Please write down the information Caradoc can give you. There are also a handful of Goblins and two Merpeople. When you're finished with the list return to the office and arrange appointments with their leaders to discuss how to return them to their people.”

Percy bows to the Minister and gets out a piece of parchment to take notes. Caradoc gestures him to a corner where they can talk in relative peace and away from the bodies.

Harry and Ron have used the time to take a look around. The look on their faces is very solemn. Have they thought I was exaggerating?

“You have been right. Something should have been done about this.” Harry says at last. “That doesn't excuse you from walking into a trap without taking any precautions. I've warned you, Kingsley, you should have taken an Auror.”

Harry may be talking to Kingsley, but he's glaring at us reproachfully. As if one Auror would have made a difference. I suppose he's thinking of one specific Auror. Offended that he hasn't been invited to the party? No, that would have been James' reaction. Harry is probably really worried about the Minister's safety.

Kingsley smiles at his pouting Head of Aurors Office, but his tone leaves no doubt that he is not willing to discuss this matter any further. “Harry, I appreciate your concern, but I don't need a flock of Aurors following me wherever I go. I can fend for myself and Sirius and Severus here also have a bit of experiencing in duelling.”

“Mostly in duelling each other,” Harry snaps.

“Precisely Mr Potter, lots of experience from an early age,” Severus mocks slightly.

Harry obviously doesn't appreciate Severus' kind of humour as much as I do and rolls his eyes. I can't help grinning.

At this moment a wizard comes in to report that the bridge is built and they are ready to take away the prisoners. Harry glares at us and follows the wizard to do his duty. Other Ministry staff have started sorting the body parts and packing them into boxes. Harry and Ron have left with the prisoners. All people present have some job to do and I have to admit they work much more efficiently than I remember it from the past. The new rule has changed a few things in the Ministry. I start feeling a bit out of place. A look at Sev confirms that he feels the same. We should say goodbye to Kingsley who has joined Caradoc again. They are talking in a remote corner.

“Snape... Severus, Kingsley has told me briefly what happened since my demise. I can't say I understand everything, but I want to apologize for my harsh words at our first meeting. I would shake your hand, but my form of existence doesn't allow it. Let me say I'm glad you're.... one of us.”

Severus tries to appear unmoved by these words of acknowledgement from a man he saw dying so many years ago. He inclines his head slightly to the ghost. There is no need for more words.

Kingsley looks very satisfied with the outcome.

“You want to leave? Perhaps we all should go. There isn't anything left for us to do here. Caradoc will accompany me and stay at my house until his funeral. The organisation and talking to the relatives will take some time. I'll keep you informed.”

People make way as the four of us walk over the magic bridge to the Apparition rock. We say good bye and a moment Later Severus and I stand in front of the Hogwarts gates. I wonder if the feeling of dizziness from Apparition will ever go away again. I don't feel like returning to the castle at once.

“Anything planned for the rest of this lovely afternoon, Sev? I've promised Rosmerta to drop in as soon as possible. We've missed lunch at Hogwarts anyway and I could do with one of her pies and a butterbeer.”

“I don't want to disturb your date with Rosmerta. “

“Date? Oh c'mon, she's just a friend and her pies are still excellent. I always took a detour to rob her bins the year of the Triwizard Tournament. I tried not to make a mess in her backyard though.”

“She'll be delighted to hear that.”

“We don't need to tell her, do we? I'm not sure Padfoot didn't overturn them once or twice. He's just a dog.”

Severus smirks. “I'm curious how you'll talk yourself out of that. Everyone has heard by now that you can turn into a large black dog. Rosmerta can count two and two together.”

That was an agreement, wasn't it?

~Severus~

Sirius grins at me and starts walking to the village. He's pretty much alone in that, no one has really grinned at me since the time of Regulus – and Lily and Evan. Most often Regulus. Regulus whose body was so pristine among the other dead, who was kept suspended in that bleeding cave, deep in that blasted cavern, hidden amongst rock and cliff. All down to the slit-nostril red-eyed bastard I called the Dark Lord.

The wind is skinning and I see Sirius putting up the collar of his outer cloak. I copy him. We are wearing black cloaks with silver fastenings, both of us, as if we were still students. No one could have predicted the present from those days. That gets me thinking of Regulus, Evan and Lily again. I keep my mind working on these scenes all the way into the village proper from the top of the High Street.

Snow spatters us, but turns to a drizzle of rain by the time we reach the door of the Three Broomsticks. Sirius breaks the silence. I assume he had scenes of the cave and the past, we think in oddly similar ways at times, and we know when to be silent with each other. Then Sirius gets this mischievous look on his face that would never appear on mine and that breaks my line of thought.

“Did I say Butterbeer and pie? What about Oak Matured Mead and a Cornish pasty?” Sirius raises his eyebrows twice. What does that mean? I go on the defensive, as usual.

“You've obviously done a lot of deep and reflective thinking while walking here.” I push open the door into the clean and shining Three Broomsticks. Sirius and I pretend to eye the curvy and attractive lady in her 50s who works behind the bar and put on an act as if to compete for her attention. She smiles and ushers us with shooing noises to a corner where we won't make a huge scene.

We each carry a Butterbeer each back to the table. Neither of us really wanted mead. I'm sure our thinking is impaired by over-analysing already. That and we are already attracting stares.

Sirius' face becomes impossibly serious. He says, “Yes, I did some thinking. About Regulus and our days so long ago when we were inseparable. About James and Harry. About you. And especially that cave, and why we found it in the first place.”

“Uncanny. I had similar thoughts. Regulus in my student days. The cave.”

“Care to elaborate?” Sirius cocks his head to one side as he so often does, like a dog listening intently.

“Not now. Let me think.” I growl it. I don't want to make myself vulnerable no matter how the trust level has increased, the friendship accepted. Besides, we're in public.

“Because you're never lost in thought.” He mocks me a little. I take his words as an accusation.

“Do you want to open your mind so easily today? If so then you're not a mutt. You're a mongrel with mange.”

The mutt shakes his head. “Well sorry, it's just you said how uncanny it is, our thought. I talked and you talked so I assumed we were talking.” He's being so sarcastic I have to smile.

“We're surrounded by people who want to know what we think. We have a not so small audience here,” I inform him. We must be an odd sight.

“Curiosity isn't a sin. Thank you, Rosmerta.” Sirius tells the landlady for the Cornish Pasty and Chicken and Ham Pie – with a wink. She giggles, then marches away, clacking her heels. Soon we only hear our knives and forks and muttering about us slowly ceases. We're both so hungry we scarcely look at each other in the flashing of cutlery. The smell of the bodies is very faint but it's there in our clothes. Halfway through I can't touch another bite.

Sirius notices I'm not eating and finishes his pasty in a hurry. Even mutts can be considerate. Just like his brother, arrogant but decent. Not nice, perhaps, but who needs nice when you have character?

We watch Madam Rosmerta wend her way between her patrons, shooting us smiling glances and I try to discard the smell of death. It disappears into the mingled scents of tobacco and spirits that surrounds us. I look at Sirius as he lays down his knife and fork.

Rosmerta's level-headed reason tinged with warmth is much more attractive than the reasons most pub-goers like her. I will even resort to chitchat if it comes to it. I catch her eye and beckon without a word.

~Sirius~

Rosmerta has been busy serving lunch to the patrons, but she noticed we have stopped eating.

“I'm used to the headmaster eating like a bird. He's always been like that, no matter how much your brother tried. You used to have a healthy appetite, Sirius Black. I've got some of yesterday's meat pies left. I can put them on the lid of the bin, if that's more to your liking.”

She knows; Severus has been right. I try to look guilty.

“I'm sorry about that, Rosmerta... Rosie dear? I tried not to make a mess, but sometimes I was so....”

“Hungry? You looked like it. Why didn't you scratch at the back door like any clever dog? I'd have given you a bowl. I'd given you something decent in the kitchen, if you trusted me. I've never believed the rubbish Fudge said about you.”

Rosmerta looks around to make sure all her other customers are well served and content and sits down between us. I notice Severus casting a Muffliato under the table.

“You betraying James Potter and joining You-Know-Who? I've never heard so much bloody nonsense, except perhaps that Severus Snape has murdered Professor Dumbledore in cold blood as some people said. Being a landlady you get to know your guests and you two have always been good lads. A bit wild perhaps,” she says giving me a wink. “and desperately trying to look like a dangerous wizard, “ looking pointedly at Severus. “but good lads none the less.”

I guess we both look rather dumbstruck, Severus certainly does. Not used to being called 'good lad'. Rosmerta continues,

“And now I want to hear how you managed to come back. The real version, please. I know the Prophet story and then tell me what brought you here, together and obviously coming from a fight in times of peace.”

Coming from a fight? We both look at each other and only now we notice that our robes are torn at places and there are a few singe marks from the Death Eaters curses. That explains why people have been staring at us when we entered.

It's my turn first and I tell her about the veil as matter-of-factly as possible. Rosmerta smiles when she hears about us exchanging letters after my return.

Severus explains very shortly about this morning.

“Will this madness never end? Haven't there been enough deaths and people sent to Azkaban?” Rosmerta shakes her head sadly. “You've really found the place where You-Know-Who kept his victims? One of my cousins disappeared during the first war. Do you think...?”

“The Ministry has a list of names. Shacklebolt will contact the relatives.” Severus tries to sound unmoved, a sure sign he isn't. There are tears in Rosmerta's eyes. I put my hand on her arms and she leans against my shoulder for a moment.

Only for a moment, then she rises abruptly.

“I've got to care for the other guests again. “

We take our leave soon afterwards.

~Severus~

We walk to the bar and Sirius tosses a few too many Galleons on the bar and winks at Rosmerta again.

“I was her favourite,” I inform Sirius as we leave into that same drizzling rain. Sirius gives me a cocky look. I rephrase. “Fine. I was her favourite when I was with Regulus. Either way you can't dazzle her with your bombast. Or perhaps you can – she just waved.”

Sirius laughs and throws out his chest and walks with a strut, ruffling his hair with one hand. “Remind you of anyone?”

“I'd rather not talk about James Potter when I can talk about the dead in the cave. Much more delectable topic.” I smirk at him.

“You'll have to get used to James and Harry when it comes to me, sooner or later.”

“I understand that. You are going out on the town with the Chosen Potter after all.” I can tell we're going to bicker all the way back to Hogwarts, and it will mostly be my fault. Then I think to talk about Rosmerta, but I'm interrupted.

Rosmerta shouts from the door of the Three Broomsticks, “Did you leave this?” She waves Padfoot's leash and Sirius runs back to....fetch it. She hands him something else. My sketchbook I carry at all times has come out of my inner cloak and I can tell I've turned a horrible brick red. I don't often lose things but when I do it's stellar.

“Is this yours?” Sirius says, waving the book after thanking Rosmerta and returning to the road.

“Yes. Hand it over.” I'm snarling.

“When I've had a look. A sketchbook!” His face splits in an evil grin and I take back what I thought about him being considerate. He opens it to see a picture of someone reading and I'm just good enough to tell that it is a picture of him, my considerate friend, my reformed Marauder.

“You haven't changed one jot, Black. Accio sketchbook!” It flicks out of his grasp and then I'm holding it. “Do I look at your private belongings?”

“You make comments about Azidirachta Indica.”

“You remembered the proper name.”

“Neem shampoo aren't words I'd use around the esteemed Headmaster of Hogwarts.” Sirius uses a delicate tone.

I look at him, wondering how deeply layered the sarcasm is.

Rosmerta saved my sketchbook. And the leash that saved my skin. She was always open-minded and even-keeled when everyone around us – and including us – were dancing on Dumbledore's red hot coals and told it was the only road to take. His road, Dumbledores'. I don't have that much regret at his death any more, but I wish I'd seen through him, I blame not being observant enough though I was as observant as it is possible to be.

“Brainwashed, the Order, weren't we?” I ask after a walk for a mile in silence.

“So brainwashed. Two powerful wizards and two forms of controlling their minions. Were you ever more than a minion to either of them? I wouldn't know about your 'Dark Lord' but with Dumbledore, that's just the truth. He did honour Harry's purity. He did believe in something. But we all had to see his way or else we were dishonourable, rejected, despicable minions following unreasonable orders.”

I think my own thoughts and he thinks his and soon we're walking through the grounds of Hogwarts and parting at the Entrance Hall. Sirius rattles Padfoot's leash as he wanders down the corridor away from me.

He still has the strange, sheepish look he wore when he saw the sketch.

Snacks And Letters - Part 91

Fri, 30 Mar 2012 10:51:03 GMT

Authors: valkyriekat and sionna_raven
Title: Snacks and Letters - Part 91
Word Count: 4948

~Severus~

“Sirius,” I say, “You bump into the strangest people in the corridors.” We collided.

“I was looking at my notes but you bumped into me first,” growls the tall hound.

“I'm so very sorry then,” I sneer. I continue in a businesslike tone. “About tomorrow. We'll meet at half past ten sharp in the Entrance Hall. We have to get out of the grounds. I know you dislike Apparition unless absolutely necessary, but it's necessary. Like Percy Weasley said, we meet the Minister at eleven.”

“Fine.” Sirius seems tired.

“Get some early rest, you need it. Go!” I shove him in the small of the back. “We meet well after breakfast, I won't be there. I will busy with other matters.”

“What other matters?” Sirius enquires.

“Preparation for tomorrow, mutt, what else? Surely you are doing the same when not lost in student records?” My tone of voice indicates scepticism. Is he planning or is he going to just make it up as he goes along? I do both. Does he?

“You had me lost in notes for Defence, and I want to finish. I'll think about Caradoc later.” Sirius shrugs his broad shoulders stubbornly.

“You think of Dearborn but not the strategy of how to even arrive?” I ask incredulously.

“That will be decided with the Minister. And we've been there before.” Sirius shrugs yet again.

“Yes, and various former Death Eaters and their kin know that. What better way to get back at the current regime than jinx and entrap or curse the traitorous Headmaster of Hogwarts, Shacklebolt as Minister and you who they know you have never ...openly... been a Dark wizard? They know where Regulus came from, Slughorn having told every fool he meets. I was fool enough to tell him where Regulus' body came from and not all former Death Eaters are stupid.” I speak every sentence with a clipped tone.

“I hadn't considered that,” Sirius admits. It's hard not to sneer at that fact but I don't. Never antagonize a Black without due caution. He has goblin lawyers and the Black family incisors, I think with a smirk.

“What?” Sirius asks impatiently. Inscrutability takes over.

“My expression is nothing. See you tomorrow at ten thirty. And don't be late.” I snap, but I give him a small smile that makes his own face grin. He veers around me and continues on his parchment-heaped way up to the seventh floor.

I wake up from a most vile dream. I was in the cave with Regulus and Kreacher, watching Regulus plead for me to help him as half-decayed Inferi pull him beneath the surface, into the black waters... the Black lake, they should call it, in memoriam.

Drenched in cold sweat, I stand and splash water on my face and strip down, laying in cold and clammy sheets. Distracted, I get up and sit by the fire drinking tea. Just thinking.

I'm going to strap my wand to my arm. Easy access from strange angles, just in case there are true Dark Wizards aiming to get at us. I'll bring a phial of blood – my own – among other things. I think that the hidden entrance arch has resealed itself, it did so after the former Headmaster was there. I know we don't need to enter the cave but in case of the impossible, water.

An hour later I have made my preparations, the blood, the wand strap, water and a few Galleons, and double checked my inventory of useful spells. I leave the dungeon office and walk to the Entrance Hall, keeping an eye on Sayla's watch. Ten minutes. I was so purposeful in my tread that I didn't keep an eye on the few students still here; I barely noticed half of them shrinking against the corridor walls.

Sirius arrives with two minutes to spare. We stand side by side, watching for a sign of Kingsley from inside the open oak front doors. He knows how to access Hogwarts if he wishes. He could floo but I think he'd like to stretch his legs in that job. I've given him access to the castle should he need it.

I am about to ask Sirius what he has prepared for but he is saved by the coming of the Minister for Magic, the tall dark man with the golden hoop earring. He appears to be carrying his wand. No Aurors, good man. Some Gryffindors actually command real respect and he has mine. That doesn't mean I let him in on that fact.

He reaches us and we're shaking hands, and Kingsley says, “Good of you to come, Severus. You were instrumental in this. You know I hold nothing against you. You've ...”

“Yes, yes. Shall we go down to the entrance and down onto the High Street?” I don't want people hearing about how terribly cooperative I have been. Especially students. But the students have made themselves scarce.

“Where is this cavern containing the lake again? I have the rough location but not a specific name.” Kingsley turns his deep brown eyes on me.

“Crescent Cliff. I suggest we approach with caution.” I speak the word 'caution' softly.

“I think so, yes. There are still renegades here and there. What about you, Sirius?”

Sirius seems to be thinking back, from the look on his face. “Like an old friend said, constant vigilance.”

A good sentiment. Not at all paranoid as they used to say, Alastor Moody, even if we never saw ... eye to eye.

We have left the castle behind. The grounds are still snowy, but just a dusting compared to other years. We walk in silence though the gates adorned with winged boars. Kingsley is lost in thought, we all are.

Kingsley gives me a significant look, and Sirius too, as we close the gates of Hogwarts behind us. “Ready, you two?” he asks in his deep, measured voice and Sirius nods. I jerk my head. “Now!” the Minister says quietly, and we Disapparate.

I am wrenched through space in compression until I smell salty air and see the sign Crescent Cliff, 2 miles, and stare at an outcropping of rock, a cliff....a cavern....a cave. I know this though I can not see the cave from here. It seems to draw me. Kingsley appeared next moment beside me with a pop, panting as I was from the bands that squeezed during Apparition. Sirius appeared with an undignified crack right afterwards. He looks put out about Apparating, but he also looks very, very aware of his surroundings, as if his hearing has the quality of a hound's.

We walk from the sign, toward the cliff in silence, trying to get a good vantage point to see from. We seem to have a tactic of sheer silence, and I cast Muffliato over the three of us as well. There were a lot of heaps of hay a former Death Eater could hide behind, an abandoned barn, a wall with slippery cold chain hanging from it, and a place to descend to get to the fissure in the rock. All three of us are silent as we grab bits of rock and move on, climbing down the landward side of the rock.

I feel around, clutching the walls of a cliff next to that fissure in the rock, my footsteps unsteady on the slippery sea-sprayed outcropping. My heart thunders in my ears.

We edge along the cliff to the mouth of the cave, a narrow fissure, Sirius in the wary lead. Niches, jagged, full of edges, are good footholds. I have my wand strapped to my arm and wrist so I will not lose it, could cast spells from precarious positions. Every step was calculated. I was in no rush after all, and have no use for falling to my death.

The entrance was definitely there. Now for the part I hate, getting wet and swimming. I am a decent swimmer, but I feel queasy when looking down onto the ocean from my narrow protection. There is water funnelling in from the ocean, into the crag or crevice or whatever. The water doesn't scare me.

The knowledge of those calling me a traitor ... they made me feel both sick with venom and very awake, and they never seem to notice it is I and the Minister, sliding on the rock behind me, that shorten their stay in Azkaban or keep them out altogether, as much as we can work around Granger. As if I did not know and understand what it was to be branded with the Mark. I pay attention and make eye contact with Kingsley and Sirius. None of us speak, we listen intently to the gurgling, whooshing water.

Sirius drops as Padfoot to the water silently, a slight splash following. Kingsley follows. I bring up the wary rear. The waves press us against the jutting rocks, and we swim with the stream. There are a lot of good places to curse us from. My clothes billow around me, sopping, and I go in the lead past the paddling Padfoot. I'm a better swimmer and I can spot the unusual very quickly. But Kingsley knocks me on the back and takes the lead from there. He's a strong swimmer, much more so than I am. Our sopping garments impede our progress and the tunnel we enter went on and on. The air is still and much darker now. We slipped up to a semi path and a rock wall. There are two steps leading in, one more than last time.

Kingsley climbs up first, then me, and finally Padfoot shakes on us but as we're already sopping it makes no difference. Sirius resumes his usual form and points his wand at me. Instantly my robes are dry.

This is a stronghold of powerful magic. You can sense it. The Dark Lord's methods were clever - very clever and without regret. Even after we've penetrated the entrance, there are still many ways to attack us.

I look at Kingsley who gives me a nod. I defer to his expert judgement and I know Sirius will too. I lay a finger on my icy lip and cast the spell I know to be of some use. “Homenum Revelio” I say to myself silently.

I hear the echo, four brief echoes, around me. The cavern seems to hide many secrets. Flinging out my left arm, I hold Sirius back with it, and give him a significant look. I hold up four fingers. Four Death Eaters. Shacklebolt nods, and then Sirius cottons on. I see the knowledge in his eyes.

“Declare yourselves!” the Minister says in that eternally deep calming voice.

And then we hear the sound of footsteps, and robes slithering over wet stone. We have truly met resistance at last. Sirius jumps out and begins firing hexes at our assailants, who I can't see well as my eyes have not yet become accustomed to the light. Hound's eyes as well? To work.

Instantly there are a shower of spells aimed at us and they mean business. Two of them use spells aloud and we can hear Avada Kedavara used twice, green jets, an orange one, two red stunning spells are aimed at them by Kingsley and Sirius. The Death Eaters are all wearing the traditional black, melting into the niches around them. A masked male aims an unspoken hex at Sirius and I actually shout Protego to watch Sirius move safely to the other more raised side of the cavern, where the entrance to the cave is concealed. These spells are going to make the cavern collapse if we continue much longer.

The walls glisten wetly but for the dry glowing arch leading to the cave. Kingsley dashes ahead and lets loose an Impediment Jinx. I snarl silently my Confringo while aiming low at a masked figure, female to judge by the slightness and form, completely avoiding the cavern wall. A risk, that one. I am going to be party to slaughter if I continue such physically forceful spells.

I leap back and slip on slick wet rock, losing my balance, just as the shortest Death Eater aims their wand at me. Looks like one of the nasty spells I invented and I raise my wand arm to block the spell.

A surge of purple light is too fast for me.

But it's too slow for Sirius' own Shield Charm. I take the opportunity to aim Sectumsempra at the arm of the short one, the female who seems to be doing the worst damage. She drops her wand and shrieks, then snatches her little stick up and pulls her mask off. Her left arm is a bloody mass spreading to her shoulder and that's the chance you take, girl, when you try to use such a spell on me. She wrenches off her mask in agony. Brown hair and grey eyes, thin, middle aged, robes the wrong cut and size. Her husband's old robes. It is Briony Wilkes' mother. This adds interest, not pity.

Kingsley shouts and I can't hear him. Sirius is running into the centre of the cavern, dodging behind large boulders. Then I see Kingsley is bleeding or covered in someone's blood. “Caradoc, Severus, Caradoc!” he booms and I understand at once, I run spitting through a sea of spells, aiming for the archway that seems to gleam for me, my own raw and bloody shoulder not enough for the price it wants. I whisk the large phial of blood and spatter it where is indicated by memory.

The wall dissolves. I know Caradoc Dearborn will protect his unburied kin.

The smell makes me retch, the sick sweet decay nearly brings me to my knees but I master myself. “Caradoc Dearborn! Just imagine, Death Eaters on your watch!” I can't help irony and sarcasm even at moments of peril. The Inferius-turned-ghost is revealed, glides through the archway and the mere sight of his rage make all but the Wilkes stand as if paralysed – and she aims an utterly useless Killing Curse at Dearborn. It causes no damage, it goes right through him. What did she expect? The other Death Eaters back away with great caution. They don't take the ghost of an Inferius lightly.

“You shall never leave this place!” Dearborn cries impressively, and suddenly I am in a shroud of darkness, a blast of cold, and something worse than Dementors comes, the sucking souls of a thousand decaying bodiless souls, something that will trap us in limbo, hanging in space, unable to move except for the eyes.

My wand is still attached to the arm and wrist, and I think Expecto Patronum and my doe appears bright and proud only to die out and become lifeless by my side, instead of charging she fades to black, wretched and lifeless. What terrible power can do this to a Patronus?

Dearborn!

The Death Eaters and I are locked in a dark mist, bound by an invisible form of the Incarcerous Jinx.

I can see Kingsley and Sirius move to me. Sirius is paler than death but not bound. And you thought Caradoc understood my position, Sirius. Your blasted admirable friend finds me to be a snake and no more. He saw me fight... but he didn't. But why would I call him if I did not want help? Perhaps the dry humour irritated him. My doe! At her most dazzling I saw her for who she is and now am I forced to watch my guardian spirit of a deer become an eternal nothing?

~Sirius~

“Caradoc, can't you tell friend from foe?” I growl to hide my worry and Kingsley adds, “Release Severus at once!”

The ghost hesitates and looks from one of us to the other. Kingsley move towards him his hand outstretched.

“Caradoc, old friend....” he starts trying to convince the ghost to release our friend.

I watch Severus' Patronus crumble. He stares at the fading doe and at his useless wand. Caradoc still refuses to let him go. Severus raises his wand again to try another spell and suddenly I do understand.

“Don't use magic, Sev!” I shout. “It feeds on the spells cast by the living. Use Muggle means!”

Severus reacts immediately. He lowers his wand and.... pulls something out of his pocket. Padfoot's leash! It's definitely more fun to be with a wizard who uses his common sense. I move as close to the mist as I dare. Is the leash long enough?

“Don't touch it, Sirius,” comes a warning from Kingsley.

“Don't give me orders, Minister. Talk some sense into your friend.” I'm not that much of an idiot. This mist is Dark Magic gone substantial. It is similar to the horror we faced in Azkaban, darkness, pain , torture and death, but this is controlled by a friend of mine. A friend who should see reason at last.

“Caradoc, please let him go.”

“I can't, Sirius,” the ghost replies. “If I let Snape go, the others will be released, too.”

Severus has heard the judgement. He moves the leash between his fingers. The mist inhibits all movement. Can he throw it? He can and it's just long enough. I can reach for the metal snap at the edge of the mist. Severus holds the loop at the other end. I try to pull, but the mist is too thick. Severus' face is determined. We look in each other's eyes. I won't let go, my friend. He gropes his way along the thin leather strap. It's like a silent dance in slow motion. Two yards only, but it seems a thousand miles. I can't do much. If I pull, the mist sucks me in. Finger tips stick out first and then slowly a hand emerges. I grab it. It's cold as ice. As soon as I really get a hold of it I pull. The mist gives way too suddenly and we both fall over backwards.

I don't let go of Sev's hand immediately. His whole body is freezing cold and he is even paler than usual.

“Even as ghosts typical Gryffindors! Shoot first, think later.” mutters Severus struggling to get on his feet and wrestle his hand from mine.

I laugh happily when I see that he's perfectly fine.

“I'm sorry, Snape. You got in the way. Are you really one of us?”

Severus glares at the ghost. “One of you? Not in a thousand years.”

The Dark mist wavers as the cave is filled with Gryffindor laughter. We get serious again soon enough. The Death Eaters or more likely Death Eaters wannabes, because I don't recognize any of them, lie crumbled on the ground. They didn't get the warning about not trying to use magic and the darkness around them has thickened.

Kingsley observes them carefully.

“You've got to release them, Caradoc. The woman is bleeding to death, if you don't.”

Severus' face turns stubbornly defensive trying to figure out, if that was a slight reproach of his use of Sectumsempra. I give him an encouraging half-smile. People get hurt in fights. This wasn't hexing in Hogwarts corridors.

“Drop your wands and surrender! “ Kingsley is facing our enemies who don't have another choice than obeying the Minister of Magic.

We stand at his side our wands pointing at them.

“Full Body Bind as soon as the mist dissolves,” Kingsley commands. We're not taking chances.

We nod in agreement each aiming at the male nearest to us. The woman seems to be unconscious. The mist wavers and fades. The three men are bound in an instant by three simultaneous spells.

I turn to Sev. “Can you...?” but he has already knelt down at the woman's side and started to look after her injury. She is not unconscious and stirs and moans in agony. The blood is gushing out of her severed shoulder. Severus passes his wand over her body.

“Treacherous bastard,” she hisses through gritted teeth. Severus ignores her. He calms himself and concentrates. I hardly believe what follows next. This is magic, magic not taught at Hogwarts, magic which couldn't be found in even the oldest family libraries. I can identify the structure of the incantation, it's rhythm. The language seems to be an old Welsh dialect. I am not sure, because I only have mastered the very basics of those ancient languages, barely enough to learn some spells by heart. From what I can understand Severus sings healing. He makes the blood vessels connect, the flesh cut by his spell grows back together. The wound closes. He renews the world as it was meant to be. The tune fills the air and makes it quiver. Time stands still.

We watch and listen in awe. We all have heard or read about this kind of magic, but we've never witnessed it. Severus has stopped singing. He takes a small phial out of his pocket and applies what I suppose is dittany. The woman has stopped her muttering when he started the incantation. Severus takes her wand and binds her, too. Not letting her die is one thing; foolish pity another.

Kingsley is the first to speak again. “The Aurors can take care of them later. I have come here to meet a friend and see about the situation with the bodies.”

We leave the prisoners in the small passage and enter the cave. The air has been cleared a bit by the draft from the tunnel and we don't need Bubblehead Charms. The sight is still disgusting. Kingsley avoids Caradoc's eyes.

“We should have taken care of this earlier, “ he whispers to himself.

Caradoc smiles at his friend. “I knew you'd come as soon as possible.”

Kingsley shakes his head in embarrassment. “No, we forgot about this. I forgot about this. Too busy with everyday politics. If Severus and Sirius hadn't insisted....”

“You are here now and you will arrange for us to get decent funerals, won't you?”

“Yes, of course. A team from the Aurors Office will arrive to recover your bodies as soon as I call for them.”

“We'll be checking for possible traps again, Shacklebolt. Come on Sirius, show me your skills in Detection of Dark Arts.”

I follow Severus. Kingsley and Caradoc need some time on their own. I wonder what it feels like to talk to your best friend again after all those years. Strangely I'm glad that I don't need to talk to James' ghost right now. It took some time to convince Caradoc, telling James that Severus and I have become friends would be nearly impossible. I smile bitterly at the sheer idea.

“What are you smirking at?”

“Nothing, just a bizarre thought.”

Severus jerks his head and looks at me intensely. Then he smirks, too.

“Could you please stop looking at my thoughts, Sev?” I grunt.

“There's no need to use Legilimency to guess your thoughts right now. You're amused by the idea of talking reason with Potter's ghost.”

“Do you think you know me so well by now? All right, I was thinking of having to talk to James.”

“Hey Prongs, you see, now that ...,” Sev starts in a mocking tone. “everyone and I mean everyone is dead I may as well hang out with Snivelly. I hope you don't mind...”

“Don't be such a prat, Sev.” I interrupt him. “I would tell him right away and certainly not ask for his approval. …. I may have started the letters because everyone else is dead, but I want your friendship because... You're damn good company and I like spending time with you. By the way you're pretty good at throwing sticks and don't pull on the leash too harshly.”

Having said that I turn away and start casting detection spells at the cave walls. If he can't tell by now that I'm serious about friendship, I can't help it.

~Severus~

I don't know what to think of Sirius' statements but recognition has been a while in coming. And it's about time I take his words at face value. He did agree he started it for the wrong reason... and he really values my company this much? I want to sneer but find myself up against my own wall. The one that says be a man, accept your friend and start learning to trust him. Augh! I wanted this ever since Regulus died. Not Sirius, in particular. Someone who doesn't slip in my venom. I too am firing off spells of detection, and I swallow the bad smell that is lessened but stubbornly still there. Like Sirius is stubbornly still there. We work side by side in silence.

“Ah!” Sirius starts and I hold an arm in front of him, seeing a ghostly glowing green boat emerge from the water. This wants looking at. Careful how we look. The water ripples at the edge when I tread in it.

Sirius skips up to it. “Use caution, mutt!” I snarl at him. “You're not endangering the life of my friend.”

Sirius stares at me, a small grin appears on his face, and his features and form suddenly relax. How long has he held the tension?

“After you,” he says gallantly.

I walk cautiously from bow to stern. It has a chain attached. This is what Harry thought of. A chill passes over me as I cast more revealing charms and mutter the obvious counter-jinxes and -curses. Sirius hears mine and mimics me but using his own variations. Regulus and Dumbledore met their death and this boat was part of the means. I want to hex it to pieces. Two people reduced to portraits, Regulus a mere sketch.

“Think it's safe to decimate? To attack?” I ask the Defence master. I could not have picked a better teacher, I think.

“Attack?” Sirius inquires with both eyebrows raised.

“This boat bore your brother to his ending. And Dumbledore, for all his faults a noble enough man. I wish to decimate this ill-fated creation of the Dark Lord's. It has one purpose: to lead a victim and a perpetrator. An altogether Dark object, I think.”

“I think it's safe to destroy. Together?” For once he's solemn.

“Together. Or do you think Kingsley will find us rash? I ask you about taking chances. We live in strange times, mutt. Three. Two. One.” We pause, then: “Confringo!” We both blast it to burning detritus, leaving a flaming wreck at the water's edge. Water doesn't halt these flames. Hermione would be pleased.

“More.” Sirius says slit eyed. “More. Anything that led to...Regulus!”

I agree, could not agree more. But I hold up my hand. “Much more will bring this place down. If we disturb the centre no one will be able to recover the bodies.”

Sirius kicks at the ground. He sits on a rock and I stand beside him, one hand on his shoulder. Sirius doesn't flinch like I thought he would, but leans against my hand. I read him wrong for a long time. Sirius regains himself and asks, “That spell. The counter-curse to Sectumsempra. What was that spell? Where did you learn it?”

“When I created the curse, the counter-curse came out of a spell I learned earlier. Healing magic of the type few wizards know and even fewer wandless witchcraft-users. I learned it from my Prince grandfather, your relative. I use it different ways. You have to know the spell, focus on it, no interruptions, be very aware of time and space. Muggles think it's their form of magic but they are wrong. Wandless users must be real witches and talented ones for it to work. My grandfather taught me the song from the time it was a soothing lullaby. I was meant to know this magic. It is rare to have this control, and I can't teach you. A wand is essential for me. The true Prince, Livius, could perform it without a wand.”

“I don't know much of your background.”

“I don't expect you to. I use it for different spells and counter-jinxes, hexes and curses, all healing. It is the only spell that is the best of magic, that it cannot be used in any way for wrong.”

We are staring at each other. We stand and look about for more signs of magical tampering. There are not many revelations and I can't help feeling let down by the Dark Lord's lack of creativity.

We return to hailing distance of Kingsley. Caradoc floats nearer to the bodies. I think that he might pass through me just to be a prat, but that's not what comes from him.

“Sorry to incapacitate you back there, Snape. Truly. I couldn't be sure you were not a foe. But I do not think you have fooled two such powerful friends.” I'm taken aback.

“The Aurors are on their way,” Kingsley informs us. That saves me from responding – but I do. “Do not take away any more opportunities for me using my rapier wit,” I smirk at Dearborn. He rolls his ghostly eyes and mimics Kingsley, saying “At last the Aurors are on their way.”

Sun, 11 Mar 2012 23:43:54 GMT

Authors: sionna_raven and valkyriekat
Title: Snacks and Letters - Part 90
Word Count: 3960

~Sirius~

Ten minutes later I trot towards the entrance door, leash and collar between my teeth. I can hardly put on the collar myself after I've transformed and it's quite uncomfortable to wear it during transformation. Snape emerges from the dungeon stairs and snarls at two students who torment a salamander. I do my duty as the Headmaster's hound and round them up for him to tell them off.

Snape seems to like that kind of discipline.

He puts the collar around my neck. Good, he remembers to check that it's not too tight. He's obviously not used to holding a leash, much too short and tense. I shake my head and look up to his face. Give me a bit more room and we're not stumbling over eachother's feet.

“Heel.” , he orders me. Sure, whatever you say. You don't pull; I don't pull. Deal?

On the stairs he notices that a short leash doesn't give him more control. That's better. You don't need the leash anyway, I'm not going to run away. Not yet. Sirius wants me to be a good boy. I hope he doesn't intend to leave the strap on for the whole walk. I'm looking forward to stretch my legs.

There's a light snowfall. I like it. It doesn't penetrate my fur. Snape pulls his scarf closer around his neck. I rub my head against him to warm him. He doesn't seem to know what to do, but reluctantly pats my head. Not bad, with a bit of practise he'll be a decent human.

We pass some rocks and I stop for sniffing. Fang has been here recently and some other dog I don't know. I lift my leg. Snape looks consternated. What does he think we're doing? I need to inform the locals that I'm back. Why don't you remove the leash? You could put your hand in your warm pockets and I could do my sniffing.

At the edge of the forest there's a hare. Snape doesn't notice. I stand still, watch and listen. Now Snape has seen it, too.

“No hunting, Padfoot. I've already told Sirius.”

All right, all right, I got the point. No hunting. It's fine with me. I don't hate hares. I don't enjoy killing. I'm not hungry, but I'd like to run, to chase. Run free on the Hogwarts grounds, just for the fun of it.

I do calming signals again, look down, yawn, slightly wagging my tail and then I look at him. Do away with the leash. If you let me go, I'll stay. I can smell Snape's insecurity. He doesn't trust me. He needs the leash to feel safe and in control. I lower my head in resignation. It takes patience to train a man. After all he's been through, he has to learn again to trust his dog. His dog? Snape's dog? I used to be James' dog or was James my boy? He played with me, shared his food and let me run wherever I wanted and I protected him. I'd like to have a human who can look after me. Not that I need looking after, but it's nice to know that someone can, should I need it. I press my nose into Snape's hand. He twitches and growls about slobbering mutts. All right, let's try something more advanced.

There's a stick on the side of the path. I pick it up and carry it a while. We have reached the lake. Snape stops and looks over the glittering surface. He loosens the leash a bit. Just enough for me to move in front and sit. I wag my tail expectantly.

“You want me to unleash you and throw the stick, don't you?” I stand and jump up and down on my front legs, wagging. “Why should I do that? Most likely you'll run after the hare and be gone for hours.”

I stop jumping and sit again. I won't, trust me, trust me.

“Let's see how much you can control yourself. Will you obey my orders, Padfoot?”

I wag my tail. He opens the spring catch and takes the stick. I want to jump again, but I know he won't like that. I wait. My eyes follow every movement of the stick. Throw! Do it! Now! Stop teasing!

“Stay!”, he says and throws the stick. I watch it fly and land behind a bush of gorse. “Fetch!”

I run and fall into a snow-filled ditch beside the path. No reason to halt. I shake the snow off, sneeze and run around the bush sniffing. There are several sticks, but I can find the one smelling of me and Snape. Running back, jump the ditch this time and I sit at Snape's feet, holding the stick, wagging.

Snape takes the stick and I wait again for his order to fetch it. This time it has landed on plain ground. I find it within seconds. When I try to pick it up, it jumps. I bark in joy. I like this game and jump after the stick which flies through the air, makes loops and evades me. Snape is standing on the path making it jump with his wand. I hardly remember when someone played with me like that. James knew the trick, but nobody else did. A few more jumps and I catch it in the air.

Snape walks along the lakeside the lake throwing the stick for me to fetch and I bring it back every time. The stick hits a rock, bounces off and falls on the ice. I hesitate. The ice won't carry my weight. Tapping with a paw I hear it cracking. I look at Snape to do something. He smirks.

“You know as a dog you're a good deal more reasonable than as a man.”

I doubt Sirius would jump into ice-cold water without good reason, but you never know what men consider good reason. Snape seems to agree that a stick is not. He calls me.

“What do you think, Padfoot, enough running for today? Show that you can be a well behaved walking companion.”

Does he still doubt I am? I move to his left side and rub my nose against his thigh. I'm starting to get used to his smell. He smells like Alexi of peppermint, chocolate and pickled toads. What I like most about him is that he's not talking all the time. He says what is necessary and that's all. Some humans talk and talk and talk and say nothing. No wonder that they usually don't get what's going on around them.

Another hare is running in the distance. Snape sees it, too. His hand goes down to my collar. I watch the hare, but I've promised to stay with Snape. The hare is gone. I turn my head and lick at his fingers in my collar. He moves one finger through my fur.

We have reached the edge of Hagrid's garden. It's bare of plants except a few kales. One of the now brown stalks is moving suspiciously. I hear a thin and all too familiar piping. I don't care about Snape's hand on my neck and run. One jump and a squeal! I throw the dead rat over the garden wall.

Snape orders me back. He's angry, grabs my collar and puts the leash back on.

“So much about listening to what I say and obeying orders.”

I pull him over and show him. He must understand. Not hunting; killing rats! No fun, necessity!

He looks at the dead animal and at me. I look at him pleadingly. He returns my look thoughtfully. It reminds me of Remus. No, not exactly like Remus, Snape's eyes show understanding rather than that annoying look of pity.

I walk over to the water barrel at the corner of Hagrid's hut and turn human. I crash the ice and put my head into the water. Get rid of the horrible taste and smell of rat!

~Severus~

While Sirius is demeaning himself with water – though I imagine that rat tasted so very pleasant – I ready myself to knock on Hagrid's door. Then I remember the collar. The chain. I snort and walk over and undo the collar. I hold the chain, and smirk at him. “Hagrid would just love to see me walking you. He actually trusts me with your well-being. Unless he thinks I am driving you mad. I hope he's right on that last count.”

I drop the collar and chain over Sirius' outstretched hands. He's looking at me with a half-smile. That's worse than a glare. He knows it, the bastard, and he keeps smiling and he knocks on Hagrid's door before I get the chance.

“Thanks for the walk,” he says as Hagrid booms “C'min.”

He's sitting at the scrubbed wooden table in colossal work shirt, shelling peas as he so likes to do. His new boarhound is also called Fang, it seems he likes the name. I can't tell the difference but I'm sure Sirius can. Well, even I can see it's a younger and thinner dog. Boarhounds are not the most aesthetically pleasing dogs. I like that this one's nature is the same as the other. As Hagrid beckons us to sit down he puts his head in Sirius' lap and drools.

“Your new mate Fang has the same name as his predecessor then?” Sirius asks abruptly. Hagrid waves a huge hand and dabs his streaming eyes with the same spotted handkerchief he has been using for years. At least it's clean.

While Hagrid tells Sirius about where he purchased Fang and that he came from a student, Sirius smiles. Apparently it's one of the Slytherins, Briony Wilkes, that has been causing trouble. Sirius' head creases for a second, then he says, “She got that part right, then. Was it at her suggestion?”

“If I agreed to buy my dog food from her.” Hagrid smiles his whiskery smile.

“Figures,” Sirius smiles again. I see. If I want that reaction from Sirius I should be ten feet tall and hulking, with an sixteen foot half-brother living in the forest with a nineteen foot giantess.

I muse as my eyes rove as ever over the cabin, seeking automatically the place I'd find certain roots, herbs, the odd unicorn hair and sometimes dropped Knarl quills. Hagrid follows my eye, it seems.

“I remember yeh – gatherin' – roots an' berries an' herbs an' bits o' rare plant and animal stuff. Nickin', you'd call it. Thievin' even. You and young Regulus creepin' about when yeh'd find me not at all. I'm not blamin' yeh. Nah. No more'n I'd blame Harry for knowin' more than he ought. Him- an' Hermione an' Ron of course. What a handful. Now look at them! Aurors and Hermione Head of Department at her age. Bright one. Even brighter than Lily, and that's saying some...”

“Something quite unnecessary. Drop Lily Evans. Now.” I just bark at him. My teeth are bared. Hagrid, to my consternation seems surprised but still rather amused. “Thought you might like to...”

“I have other things on my mind these days. Switch topics.” I snarl.

“All right. Remember in your Third year I showed yeh the Thestrals?” Hagrid looks weepy.

“I can scarcely forget.” One bothersome topic to another.

“Could you see them in Third year?” Sirius asks inquisitively, almost accusatory I think.

“Yes,” I say through gritted teeth. “If you must know, then I'll tell you in some detail.”

“You tried to pretend not to see them, I remember, Headmaster.” Hagrid is less boisterous and a lot more thoughtful. Thank Salazar.

“I will tell you if I am not interrupted.”

“I won't say...” Hagrid begins.

“Now that I have been interrupted, there will be quiet. Fine. I was six years old, playing in a sandbox when I first saw her. Some older kids were bothering me and some younger kids pitched in too. Four on one. I am sure that sounds familiar, but these were Muggle children in my neighbourhood. And old woman feeding the pigeons put a stop to it. I looked at her and remember she seemed to know this had happened before. Whenever I played, she would look out her window and come and stop the other kids calling me names and throwing sand in my face. Calmed the other kids when I levitated things. One day, after about three weeks, I looked up and she was slumped sideways, and she seemed to be trying to lift her arm but couldn't. She looked scared. I went and put my hand on her hand...and she went calm, and then just died, right there. I know now it was a stroke. She had known I was magic, and had accepted me. I had known she was a Muggle, and had accepted her.” My stupid sappy side seeps out.

Hagrid had massive tears in his eyes and when I looked up at Sirius he looked very odd. He keeps his mouth shut on the topic. He looks troubled. I think he thinks I must be anti-Muggle simply by virtue of being a Slytherin. Has he not noticed the Weasleys? Hagrid's sobbing makes things easier. Someone to snipe at.

“Pull yourself together, you're too easily swayed. Just like last time.” I stand. “I think it's time to leave. I must get to the office and have some time to think without interruptions.”

I almost say, “and tears” but Hagrid is not wise to turn against us.

Sirius stands too. I notice a pungent smell coming from his hand, what looks like a strip of dried honeycomb. It's the terror treat of cow rumen. Fang takes it eagerly from his hand.

Just an excuse to leave. Sirius is thanking Hagrid for the visit. “See yeh, Headmaster, always welcome y'know,” Hagrid sniffs at me.

“You are welcome at the Headmaster's office at any time, Hagrid.” It's the closest I'll come to an apology. Then I remember.

“Could you heal a Salamander for me? It's been burned on the stomach by irresponsible students and looks like it has scale rot too.”

I bring the salamander out of my pocket and place it in Hagrid's outstretched hand. He brings out his other hand, and though I hate shaking the wrong hand, I shake.

“Buckbeak out back?” Sirius asks, “I'd love to see him.”

“Beaky! He's right at the pumpkin patch. Don't call him Witherwings. Just Buckbeak.” I smile slightly as Sirius tears off around the end of the cabin, happier than I've seen him recently, even the bike ride. I'm not going near Hagrid's creatures. The talon may be in the next bangers and mash.

~Sirius~

Severus looks less than enthusiastic about meeting Buckbeak. I remember Harry said something about an attack after Dumbledore's death.

I grab the dead rat by the tail and walk over to the pumpkin patch. Buckbeak blinks and jerks his head. Then he makes a clucking sound with his beak and purrs deep down in his throat. I bow slightly and give him the rat which he swallows immediately.

Beaky lowers his head and pecks at my shoulders. I ruffle his feathers.

“All right, old boy, it's all right. You still remember me, do you?”

Buckbeak spreads his wings and bows low inviting me to climb on his back.

“No, not today, Beaky. The headmaster doesn't like spontaneous flights. I live here now and we'll be seeing each other as much as possible. Maybe he gives us permission to fly another day.”

Severus doesn't look like it and Beaky turns his head sideways to muster him carefully with one of his beady eyes..

“Oh c'mon, say hello to each other and make friends. Severus, I assume you know how to introduce yourself to a hippogriff? Once we're done with the formalities, Buckbeak is a very loyal and polite pet.”

Severus reluctantly bows to the hippogriff and Buckbeak returns the greeting. They should get along pretty well from now on, both being quite similar in their need to be treated with respect.

“Are we done with Care of Magical Creatures now?”

“Not quite, scratch him at this spot right above his beak. He really likes that. See, he is clucking his beak.”

Severus rolls his eyes as Buckbeak starts pecking at the buttons of his coat.

We take our leave from Buckbeak a few minutes later. Severus holds up the collar and I obediently turn into Padfoot again. I shake my head as he tries to attach the leash. We don't need it. I walk at his side like a good dog.

Back at the castle I shake off the snow in the middle of the entrance hall and turn human again. The students really enjoy it. Especially as Filch storms in and rants over professors giving a bad example to the students, making his work even harder and all that. I remove the water with a flick of my wand. No need to make such a fuss about it.

“Any plans for the afternoon, Severus?”

“I think you should get on with prepare your lessons. You've got much to do. I'll be meeting Minerva for tea. I'll expect this month's lessons outlined by Thursday, if you want a night out.”

“All right Headmaster, I'll be doing my homework.” I've actually intended to work on that anyway.

~Severus~

After taking the hound for his trip to Hagrid's and Sirius insistence on me overcoming my dislike of Buckbeak. Sirius just climbed on and took flight the moment he met Buckbeak. Dumbledore told me about how he escaped the Dementors I would have let suck his soul dry. Bloody show-off Gryffindor. Always has to do things the grand way. I'd like him to see that beast rearing at him, talons ready to dig deeply and slash – as friendly as a Blast-Ended Skrewt and I hope Sirius remembers Hagrid trying to procure a Manticore in our Second year. It took Professor Kettleburn to sort that out.

My mind is on Minerva now. She said to meet for tea at her office. Stiff wooden chairs and tartan everywhere. Her fire is always well tended, and the ginger newts don't exactly taste terrible. I can deal with her because she always speaks her mind. One of the few.

I drop off my cloak in the dungeon office and pick up the student register and a file of complains about Emil Jugson and Briony Wilkes, all penned by her and other irritated staff members. And about five notes about three other students. One of them is a Flint in Gryffindor. A relative of Sirius and myself, perhaps? I put in a note about the Ravenclaw boys myself, regarding Fawcett and Peakes. It's good to play relativity when to comes to miscreants from other houses.

I keep thinking of the malicious smile the boy torturing the salamander. That isn't something you'd find me doing at that age. Not Sirius, not even James Potter. More of a Pettigrew style. Or the departed Bellatrix.

I am thinking so internally I offshoot Minerva's office door by several yards. I double back, grinding my teeth, and feel humiliated to discover my face has flushed at not paying attention, something I always tell the students.

An impatient foot set an inch hight is tapping at McGonagall's door. I flush even more horribly. One would expect it at fourteen...not now.

“Tell me Severus, are you going to walk past again? You're late.”

“Four minutes, the world will not expire because I was not here earlier to listen to you vent your spleen,” I come back at her.

“That's not the point.” Her words are like knives cutting. Sharp.

“Then skip the diatribe.” I'm a bit short with her today.

Minerva considers me. “Do sit, I shall fetch the tea- if it has not gone stone cold.” But she's smiling.

I sit in one of the wooden chairs and feel like I'm sitting on two points. The chair is hard and unforgiving on my bony rear. I shift.

“Would you like a pillow?”

“I'm quite fine, thank you. What is your complaint today? The moon run out of shine?” I refer to her home made Firewhiskey. She rarely touches it. But when she does, she actually lets down her hair for what seems .028 of a minute.

“I won't bother with asinine...” she begins.

“You must bother with asinine comments or you couldn't ever have been Headmistress or Head of Gryffindor.”

“Severus...” she tries to stay stern but her lips twitch. She brings out the tartan tin and offers me a ginger newt. One must take a ginger newt. If you don't she summarily ejects you from her office.

“What is the problem this time? You should be telling the Deputy Headmaster, but he's got company at the moment. Sirius. Enjoying books and papers...he's not a complete loss so far. He seems able to adapt.”

“Of course he does. Clever, he always was, but never a knowledge for it's own sake Ravenclaw.” Minerva's gaze is misted as she thinks back. She seems to like those days. She always shooed us apart, Sirius and I. Once with a broomstick, another time with a large swishing ruler, and countless times with her wand.

“It's Sirius I wish to discuss. You can put down your register and your lists of current offences. They don't mean the same as a simple ride on a motorbike.” She pours out some tea, I can't remember which it is by smell. I take a sip and think of motorbikes. I wince inside but remain inscrutable. She's going to tell me off for overreacting to the motorbike trip, or wax ecstatic over her small part in the adventure.

“You never saw eye to eye. But at breakfast you did more. You didn't watch Sirius at all during breakfast. You showed more than antipathy, you even showed trust in not watching. Much as you may hate to hear it – you welcomed Sirius to the school. You even took part in decorating his office along with that aged elf of his.”

“Am I allowed to vomit yet, Minerva?” I can tell my eyes have that glitter they get when either I or those around me should feel fear. She should watch it.

“Your point is?” I snap.

“You have a friend. Accept him.”

“I've done that! How many owls did he send over the past months!” I snarl it.

“Then congratulations.”

“You try taking the lousy mutt for a walk, see how he tries to convince you foot-long talons are friendly.”

Minerva actually giggles. I glare at her. “Having fun?” I snap.

She comes to her senses. “Not at all, Headmaster.”

She grips me with her talon-like grip on the shoulder. I still feel like I'm sitting on sharp edges. It just enhances my oh so happy mood.

“I'll just act on my own about the miscreants then.”

“As you must, Severus, as you do anyway.” She winks, letting go of her pincer grip, and I want to bellow in frustration. Instead I decide to frustrate her.

“Thank you for your input Minerva. Always appreciated.” I set down my tepid tea.

“The same.”

I retreat from her office, thinking about Sirius, and Sirius himself bumps into me with an armful of paperwork.

Snacks And Letters - Part 89

Wed, 07 Mar 2012 06:48:16 GMT

Aurhor: sionna_raven and valkyriekat
Title: Snacks And Letters - Part 89
Word Count: 1729

~Sirius~

I've stayed in my own office until dinner time. Kreacher couldn't be stopped from getting me a few sandwiches, when he found out. He tells me that Severus also missed lunch.

Regulus doesn't blame me for what happened. He knows that I tried to show Severus I respect him for himself. Regulus didn't like Lily anyway. I agreed with him until I realised that she truly loved James and tried to change him for his own good. These Occlumency lessons are a stupid idea. Severus calls me reckless? Our memories are of a kind that should be treated with caution.

I don't mind what he saw, not even the glimpses of Azkaban. He hasn't seen anything I want to forget, what I need to forget to be able to carry on. I wonder why I haven't seen one single truly happy memory in his mind. There must have been a few.

If he'd wanted to accuse me, he'd shown me more of the things we did to him, but there was only one. Regulus says he overheard that we had left Severus in the forest and went to free him. I'm glad he did. It took Remus and me a while to return ourselves. We had not noticed at first that James used a binding spell which would not fade. It wasn't the only time we went too far.

Minerva watches me at dinner, but she doesn't ask. Neville has put together his DADA notes as he has promised. I'm very grateful. Going through them will keep me busy tonight.

Monday morning, breakfast in the Great Hall, Severus is back. He acts his cheerful self, scowling at everyone. This is not the time or place to deal with it.

An eagle owl carrying two letters arrives at the high table. The expected letters from the Ministry. Percy tells us formally that we are expected to meet the Minister for an inspection of the cave tomorrow. Kingsley has added a personal note to mine telling me that the official rescue will only start after he has spoken to Caradoc. Severus has looked at his and folded it immediately.

~Severus~

I take the letter from Kingsley and stand. A few staff members rise too, Septima and Neville, then sit down again. Sirius catches my eye just as I go to catch his. We'll have to discuss the letters, decide on the best modus operandi for Tuesday. And I want to see if Sirius got the same message, curiosity has me as if I were Potter nosing in.

The meeting regarding the cave. I shake my head slowly and stare the ground as I walk to meet Sirius. All of the dead in that cave, all Regulus suffered, and Sirius and I escape death by Minerva's wording “sheer dumb luck” - everything else feels so petty.

Life is lived by the living not the dead.. even portraits and ghosts... and I think of that and try not to feel resentful that I never got to see Lily's doe. Sirius, the doe. I resolved not to mention it. I won't.

“Sirius,” I say as I approach his just abandoned chair, casting Muffliato as I go, “I see you've had an owl from Kingsley. Mine says 11am. The time we meet the Minister for the inspection of the cave. I have no problems with the schedule. I have had to shuffle my immense number of social ventures.”

Sirius raises an eyebrow then laughs that bark of his. It was once so unwelcome. I dreaded it. Instead I offer him a dog biscuit. Sirius rolls his eyes. “Ever pleasant, Sev, Yes I got the same note. Mine has an addition from Kingsley, about Caradoc.”

“Of course you had an addition. Special Gryffindor edition.” I take a hint of an ironic bow.

“Sour grapes, Severus.” Sirius says with a hint of the mischief he eternally manages.

“Actually I prefer sweet wine.” I smirk slightly to myself.

“We'd better plan what we are going to do.”

“I have already done so. You interact, I skulk.” I know it's not a real plan. “I hope Kingsley doesn't send Percy instead. The Weasleys aren't defined by much stoicism.”

“We RSVP, tell Percy the date is fine.”

“Yes.”

We don't talk for a few minutes as we make it through the Great Hall and into the corridors.

“Weasleys aside, don't be stoic to the point of foolishness at the cave, Severus. One can only take so much.”

“I say the same for you. I think we know each others limits quite well by now – we warn each other to allow some feeling.” I mock slightly but he doesn't notice.

“Severus Snape....use the word 'feeling'? And it's not sarcastic?” Sirius looks as if he's caught a scent.

“You must have fleas bothering you after all. Kreacher's Azidirachta Indica is of some use?” I ask.

I mockingly whisk my fist though the air, my knuckles a hair away from his nose. He's laughing with his hand suspended in the air. He catches my fist and twists my wrist away. I scowl. He has limits? Yes. Boundaries? No. Trust? Yes.

Another misunderstanding? My undercurrent of Occlumency doesn't help matters.

He looks me straight in the eye, slate-grey eyes so like and so unlike Regulus'. I look back at him. I think the nasty thought that I try to avoid. Why did Regulus die and not Sirius? I smile a strained smile and I can see his tail wagging, if invisibly. This is the way it had to be.

~Sirius~

Severus is trying to be social and definitely wants to avoid any awkward topics. That's fine with me. Our friendship is too precious to risk it by rushing things.

“Back on the matters at hand, Kingsley won't take Percy. He wants to talk to Caradoc. Do you remember that they have been very close friends at school? He thinks that your involvement in Caradoc's ….. capture should stay between the three of us. No need to stir up further resentment.”

“I don't think it will take too long, after that Harry and his men will probably be called for. I'm afraid the whole affair won't get us in the Aurors good books. They won't like cleaning up the mess.” I add chuckling.

Severus throws me an unreadable glance which might mean either slight consternation about getting in trouble with the Aurors Office or sharing my malicious joy. I decide it means the latter.

“Could you be bothered to think about your own tasks incidentally, since you had a whole afternoon free?” The headmaster changes the subject to something more serious.

“I have indeed. Neville has provided me with his course notes and I went through them yesterday. You have been right with your warnings. He has had a bit of trouble with certain Slytherins.”

Severus raises his brows. I shrug.

“I intend to deal with them in my own way. I've already told you that I am not willing to cut your favourites any slack.”

Severus seems to remember that I can use sarcasm, too.

“I don't mind my staff enforcing the necessary amount of discipline.”

“I had hoped we could agree on that,” I reply with a wink. “Today I have other plans, though. I need a bit of fresh air. Care to take the dog for a walk? I'd like to have a stroll over the ground and visit Hagrid afterwards. Beaky is waiting for me and I have a bag of dried cow rumen for Fang.”

Severus' face as I say cow rumen is priceless.

“I don't think I'd like to watch your share delicacies with your canine friend, but I don't mind a walk over the grounds.”

“I said it's for Fang. Padfoot prefers his rumen fresh and juicy.” I burst out in laughter as Severus turns a faint shade of green. “Just kidding, Padfoot has had enough fresh meat for a life-time. He's rather spoiled and likes well-cooked human food much better. But if you'd like a nice tasty rabbit or a piece of fowl for supper, he's at your service.”

“No thanks, “ Severus replies determinedly. “I suppose you could do with a bit of obedience training. Entrance door in ten minutes, bring a leash and a muzzle.”

“A leash, all right. No muzzle! See you in ten minutes, Sev.” I do have my limits or Padfoot has a few.

~Severus~

I wonder how well Padfoot can fetch and return anything other than a rabbit or squirrel. Sirius seems determined that I spend time with Padfoot.

What is this, Defence Against the Dog Arts?

I'll be interested to see how Sirius deals with his serpentine students. I have no doubt he can handle them 'in his own way'. Perhaps a detention involving feeding Fang dried cow rumen? Snort.

Sirius knows I don't eat much meat, and I do this out of respect for animals. I will treat Padfoot with more care than a mere human and though we haven't really discussed it I believe he understands that. I walk down to my lower office, and retrieve my cloak. I didn't check the ceiling at breakfast. I have no idea if it's snowing.

The Entrance Hall is occupied by a few Ravenclaw boys who will get detention if they continue to experiment on a salamander with a Muggle butane lighter. I thought Ravenclaws were clever.

“Fawcett! Peakes!” I begin but a large and ranging hound lopes over and bares his teeth, growling.

“The Headmaster's got a dog! Run for it!” Silly little popinjays reacting without thought. Don't they know better than to run from a sighthound? Or me?

I snarl out two detentions to be set by Terry Boot and pick up the salamander they left on the bannister. Padfoot knows better than to chase humans, I suppose, because he's here to nuzzle me with his nose.

“We'll have to take this salamander to Hagrid's for healing.” Padfoot runs in circles around me, barking. It's very nice to have a dog. I put the salamander in my pocket, reminding myself to keep it in mind when- if- I ever reach Hagrid's door.

Snacks And Letters - Part 88

Thu, 16 Feb 2012 08:14:57 GMT

Authors: sionna_raven and valkyriekat
Title: Snacks and Letters - part 88
Word Count: 4379

~Sirius~

Regulus has left his canvas to explore the castle. What did I expect from a teenager? I'm alone in a sea of green. All right, let's make this room inhabitable for a sane person. Kreacher won't be back any time soon. Away with silver and gold, serpents and lions! Sigh! That's better. I keep the green, changing it to a light mint, white ceiling. Now that's a place to think clearly. A bit of grey here and there. Grey, not silver! I grab my bags and unpack the books Kreacher forgot.

Open the window. The view over the grounds is still familiar. Hogwarts once meant freedom to me. Does it still?

Why is Severus so interested that I learn Occlumency? I will tell him what he asks for. I'll try. Lily. I wish I could tell him what she said. I've tried in my letter. She told us off, when we bullied him. She always told us off about any of our pranks. I thought her an annoying nag for most part of six years. If I'd been asked to say anything positive about Lily Evans before 6^th year, it had been she's pretty and quite clever and she's very kind to Remus. When I try to envision her during our first years, I see her surrounded by her friends, talking to Remus, screaming at James and me. I hardly remember seeing her with Sev outside class. I knew she was friends with him, but not because she acted like it. Regulus told me about it. Regulus talked a good deal more about Sev than Lily. ' He's not as bad as you think' she said to me, when she told me how to conjure real roses end of 2^nd year. I can't tell him that, can I?Maybe he's right I should learn to close my mind. I think I know how, not the way he suggests. He can't fool me; just closing is not what he did with Voldemort. He must have done what I did to keep the Dementors at bay, give them things they can't feed on, memories they can't use against you.

***

Severus is not in the Great Hall for dinner, headmaster's privilege. I only stay for a few bites. There aren't many students who stay during the holiday break. They stare and whisper. Minerva and Neville make friendly conversation. Minerva seems a bit worried that my stunt made Severus angry.

“He'll come round, don't worry. I apologized to him. He even added to the decoration of my rooms, before he left.”

Minerva isn't fully convinced, but she tries to share my optimism.

“Your rooms? There have been rumours your elf has been very busy for the last few days.”

I snigger. “Nicely put, Minerva. Kreacher has been a bit overenthusiastic recently. I've put it back to a normal level. He decorated everything in Gryffindor colours. I mean everything! Walls, ceiling, carpets!”

“Good Godric! That explains Severus' mood.”

“Not quite, he seemed to think it funny. He doesn't need to try and sleep under golden lions and silver snakes. Do want to have a look after dinner? For a glass of sherry and advice to a horribly nervous new teacher?”

“Maybe you should ask the Deputy Headmaster and Head of Gryffindor?”

Neville blushes and stares down at his plate. I remember Slughorn's question. Does he really think I want his job?

“Of course, would you like to join us, Neville? I need any advice I can get. I think these students scare me more than the headmaster.”

Neville smiles shyly.

“They already adore you. I don't think they talked about anything else than your bike this afternoon and I've seen a few old Witch Weekly passed around.”

“Please, no! I do need your advice desperately.”

We agree to meet in about half an hour and I return to my rooms to sort out a few more things. Kreacher arrives a few minutes later. He looks a bit disappointed about my alterations. I explain to him that I need something more neutral and lighter. The red might have scared the Slytherin students and made the headmaster nervous. Regulus is back and he agrees. That settles it. Kreacher only wanted to do me a favour. I guess I have to leave most of the bedroom unchanged for the moment. I ask him, if he had brought some liquor for the guests I'm expecting. He presents me with a well-sorted bar behind a door in the bookshelves.

When Minerva and Neville arrive I give them a tour. They show tremendous self-control. Minerva addresses Kreacher.

“You worked a miracle. Your master can really be proud of you.”

Kreacher beams happily.

“It's just.... don't you think that the red and the gold would look even brighter and more regal with a white ceiling? We do it like that in Gryffindor Tower. Allow me. I can change it back, if it doesn't work.”

Minerva takes out her wand and the ceiling turns white. Kreacher looks at me. I smile and pray that he believes her. He does.

“You've saved my life.” I whisper while we return to the office.

We spend a pleasant evening together. Kreacher's sherry is excellent. They give me a short overview on the teachers I don't know, yet and a rather sad account on my predecessor. Neville took over as much of his lessons as he could squeeze in. He'll give me his notes.

“They know how to do spells, but they lack any kind of theory.”

“I expected as much from what Ginny told me. I guess they will hate me in a few weeks.”

Minerva throws me a very stern look.

“You don't take this lightly, do you?”

“Do you think Severus had hired me, if I did? I really wanted this job and I want to do it properly.”

“Sirius, I know you can do it, if you really want to. I'm so glad that you and Severus have become friends. He needs a friend, someone he can trust. And so do you.”

“I think he has more friends than he knows, Minerva.” I reply. “Now give me a bit of practical advice how to deal with dangerous, under-age beings.”

“Don't accept chocolate from a female student, especially not in the first week after there was an article about you in the papers.” Neville mutters and Minerva bursts out laughing.

“I think Sirius has known that rule since his 3^rd year.”

I have, but I'm interested in Neville's story. We laugh a lot about various pranks and mishaps in a young teacher's life until the depart around midnight.

~Severus~

I wait for Sirius to enter my office at nine in the morning. I spent some time discussing his case with Regulus. He makes a good go-between, interpreting each others' madness to us both. But he can't take away my my scorn about the bike trip, not that he hasn't tried. There are giggling girls in the halls discussing how they'd love to “ride his motorbike” and boys muttering about “I need to get sirius about how I handle my bike.” Petty student nonsense. Even Regulus seems impressed. I am not.

But I push this from my mind. I have to teach him to close his mind to me. I know two Slytherin students, Sixth year Emil Jugson and Seventh year Briony Wilkes, both with parents in Azkaban, want to rid the school of blood traitors, especially a Gryffindor Black with a Dark reputation he never earned. They seek to find his weaknesses and give him a nervous breakdown.

This is my excuse to teach the lessons that I am sure he likely knows are meant to block myself. I want him to take the skill and hone it until I am no longer able to penetrate his mind's defences. I am so tempted.

He needs to learn the next stage, the planting of images. I suspect from the first attempt he already knows how to do something like this. I'd like to dig into his neurons. I stop myself. What I really want is to look at his mind and see his lies, not his truth.

Jugson and Wilkes. Nearly harmless. What about the Muddleborns of the new era? And their blessed Muddleborn parents? They want to see Darkness and they will search for it ad infinitum. Sirius may have fiddled with Dark magic but Death Eater? He never showed the slightest interest or inclination.

I glare at the door Sirius is to enter through. I have decorated my own office. It is a muted grey with a touch of silver and shelves everywhere. There is not as much dark wood and no black. There are all the samples and solution, but on teak wood. Kreacher begged to help. He wants to help Sirius and me. I want to help Sirius, if I can needle him from time to time about his rash choices. He never made as stupid a decision as I did in becoming a Death Eater. He gets my old reputation. The one that never goes away, just fades a bit like the Mark itself.

I don't want to receive the letters that are bound to come. The angry ones and worse, the congratulations on having assigned a sensible member of staff who will teach the children the Dark Arts they so need to learn.

I need to realize that Sirius is tarred with the same brush I am, to an almost equal degree. The door opens and Sirius comes in. He's usually punctual.

“Severus,” he says, nodding his head. “I got your note. We're going to have another go?” He looks a little defiant. What else is new?

“Sirius. You're late.”

“Three minutes...” he protests.

“Four minutes and thirty-six seconds.” I snap. “Have a seat, a little further from the fire than last time. We don't need you singed as nearly happened before.”

“You noticed?” A small embarrassed grin appears on Sirius' face.

“I watch. I listen. And I can think as well.” My answer needle-sharp.

“Sev, why are you teaching me Occlumency? There is a purpose. You are a Slytherin after all.”

“It is precisely because I am a Slytherin that you need Occlumency. That and there two students, also Slytherins, planning to use it to drive you away from the school using Legilimency. Wilkes and Jugson. They are capable. But they are not the danger. I am.” It costs me a lot to tell him so.

“Why?” Sirius has his head to one side.

“I like to watch. I like to listen. And I can think as well.” I wave a hand to silence him, but there is no need. He is watching me with an expression of shrewdness. Good.

“How? Though I think I can guess parts of it.”

“Sit down.” It's an order and Sirius looks fed up and obedient in one glance. That's talent. He sits. I look at the left hand of my desk, where there is a bottle of elf-made wine and a flagon of firewhiskey and say, “I'd offer you a drink if I didn't think it would lower your defences.” Fall for it. Fall for it.

“You think one drink would damage my chances? Is that....a bet?” Sirius has both brows raised and that shrewd look did not disappear.

“I'm not Ludovic Bagman. You want all your faculties...” False front. This may be the last day I can enter his thoughts in this way. I have a wager with myself that I stay out once he is able to fool me.

“I'm one of the faculty. I had better have all my faculties,” Sirius jokes.

“Very funny. Judging by your entrance I'd say not.” I must have my headlights on, beyond the typical glare. But behind the cutting is amusement on my part, waiting for the catch...

“I'll take your dare. It is a dare...?” He quips, head on an angle as it so often is, like he's trying tor rid himself of fleas.

“Of course it is a dare, and I won't be able to needle you much if you prove adept tonight. I will be trying to gain access to your worst thoughts, what I see of them, and make a character assessment judging by the results. Are you worth me toying with your mind?”

“Stop, you're doing it already. I take the dare, and here's betting you don't get what you want.”

“It is a dare, not a bet.” I summon the firewhiskey and two shot glasses, and pour out a measured ounce in each glass. “To being a tough nut to crack,” I say. I want resistance.

“To not cracking at all,” Sirius replies, with a triumphant bark. We drink, or I appear to.

“To work. Defences. You can block me using any spell, up to a medium strength curse. But I want you to use any strategy to empty your mind and refill it with false, mediocre memories, those that seem the most related, because utter harmlessness isn't a strategy. You need to fill the image in my mind with a false front. Imagine. Breathe slowly, inhaling through the nose for the count of ten, hold for the count of twelve, exhale for the count of eight. Or any permutation you find useful. Lie to me and make me believe it. Repel the 'feel' of me in your head. I suggest jinxes. Keep all of this in mind.”

“Information overload. Let me think. I'll take another firewhiskey.” Sirius looks...well, sirius. Recklessness and danger and he loves it.

“I dare, I don't pry you off the floor.” I smirk horribly at him.

“I'm ready to give it a first go.” We both stand, mirroring raising our separate wands.

I concentrate, breathing in, as I count down “Three – two – one – Legilimens!”

Pettigrew in the middle of a Muggle street. Flash of an explosion.

Sirius cowered in the corner of a dungeon. Darkness! No way out! Padfoot lying on a dungeon floor. Dead rats! Bartemius Crouch.

I withdraw. Sirius is kneeling with his eyes closed, but they flash open. I speak before he has gained his breath. “Make at least some attempt. Or I will draw my conclusions about your strength of character that will truly disappoint.”

He stands in his dark blue robes and looks at me, concentrating this time, I can tell. “Three – two – one – Legilimens!”

A dog lying on a pebbled beach. An old Muggle woman kneeling at its side. Padfoot in front of a fireplace. The old woman is feeding him toast dipped in chicken broth. Padfoot is shivering in feverish dreams, shaking, trembling, turns into a man. The woman stares at him in shock.

That is a lie I can begin to believe. Or was it truth? I sense some truth and some fabrication. Then I see a wreck of a man up against a wall, smelling salt and decay and listening to seagulls. His hair is matted and filthy. I am blocked by memory after memory of hearing seagulls... his way of tedious surrender is not surrender. It drives me back....with each seagull cry I am pushed into my own mind...

The Hogwarts Express. A boy wearing plain black robes with a white shirt and black tie. He tells the red-haired girl that he'll be in Slytherin for sure. There's nowhere better. She giggles and …

That never happened.

I push back to Sirius, with the endless sea salt and terrible lonely cries... and pull out, leaving us both breathless.

“You're not shabby. Very few use that defence. It works better for some than others. Were they memories made false by how they are presented?.....That Muggle...who was she?"

Sirius smiles reminiscently. "That woman, Annie Fraser, saved my life after Azkaban. She took Padfoot in and nursed me back to health."

"Despite your alarming change. Did she not call the police?"

"She isn't the kind to call the coppers. Or so she said. She recovered pretty fast, asked if I was a selkie."

"Selkies usually are seals not dogs. And how long did you stay with the Muggle? Had she heard stories of the gaol of Azkaban?" He had my curiosity piqued.

"A few days. She wouldn't let me go, until I was halfway well again. I've told her everything. I didn't care for Ministry laws. She deserved an explanation. She has kept my secrets."

"I would like to meet this elderly Muggle some time. I am not one to spread stories."

Sirius laughs. "She always says I should bring a friend, when I see her. You'll like her. Her herbal potions are really good.”

“Harry and this Annie must get along famously.” For once I'm not sarcastic.

“Harry has never asked, nobody has. Wizards don't get in a situation to depend on a Muggle's mercy. That simply doesn't happen.”

I let Sirius pause, and then I pause for him to go on to the next sentence.

“I used my real memories to defend me. Better than trying to use a false image.” He smiles wryly.

“Unless you are trying to feed false information.” I am reminded that he was never a spy. We're both sitting now.

“Firewhiskey?” Sirius asks, his head once more cocked to the side.

I actually laugh.

“What do I win as a prize?” Sirius puts down the bottle of Firewhiskey and pours us both a glass of elf-made wine.

“Knowledge that you can beat Severus Snape in a mind game. I was hoping to prove to you that even with a handicap, Occlumency can be achieved. I acted the part of villain once again. I didn't touch the Firewhiskey beforehand.”

“You'll touch it now.” Sirius is amusing when he growls. But I don't want to see the teeth. I drink.

“One last time,” I breathe, a twisted grin on my face. “More evenly matched. Are you prepared? Try your best to think of nothingness, of nothing at all, clear your mind.”

Sirius nods. His hair reflects the torches and the frolicking flames of the fireplace. I bare my teeth. He does the same. “Three – two- one – Legilimens!”

~Sirius~

“Rictusempra!” Blocked and backfiring at me …. Laughter, Lily's crystal clear laughter, sending brooms after us to chase us from the kitchen. I can feel him in my mind, the fury, the despair.

It's like keeping Dementors at bay. The more you cling to hope and happiness, the more they can take from you. I feel the cold of the Dementors again and see him move his wand. Cold and darkness, no way out! Dead rats! Torches........Coldness, seagulls, water....

I try to concentrate on nothing.... Nothingness, cold, silvery, misty nothingness! Padfoot running nowhere. NO! Something...warm, cosy something.... kitchen fire. Remus scolding me for watching the fire. Yellow sparks, red tongues licking at wooden logs. Dancing flames, blue flames, blue eyes penetrating my mind..... a wall of fire!

I'm hit by a gush of cold water. Severus is swearing. The rug at our feet has turned to ashes. I must have concentrated too much on fire while holding my wand

“You're worse than your godson. I've told you to empty your mind and calm it, not to set the room on fire,” he snarls.

“It has worked, hasn't it?"

At the next attempt I'm trying to think of what really matters. I think of Severus. Severus as I see him, as I saw him without recognizing him.

….“How did you figure that out? I mean it sounds like you've given it a lot of thought.”

Lily giggles. “I didn't. Severus explained it to me.“.....

…..An empty corridor, only the two of us, leaning against opposite walls, panting from the fight. I stretch out my hand to a worthy opponent.....

…. Remus and I returned to the forest. Severus was gone only the robes remained.....

…..The lake shore, dark and cold. The stag has disappeared. The Dementors are returning. Severus wrestles his wand from my hand. I await the Kiss to finish it. It's over.

The Patronus is back. The four-legged silver creature drives away the Dementors. A stretcher, a blanket. The doe holds off the Dementors...............

Severus withdraws from my mind. He looks pale.

“You saw it? You knew?”

I shake my head. “I saw the doe Patronus, but I didn't recognize it. I still can't make the connection. It didn't look like Lily's at all.”

Severus stares at me completely baffled. I try to explain, try to make sense of what I've never understood since Harry claimed that Severus' Patronus was the same as Lily's. It wasn't!

“Hers was a doe and yours is a doe, yes, but that's all. It's like saying Padfoot and Fang are the same, because they are both dogs. Harry has made the same mistake with Dora's Patronus. It was a large canine, but it was a wolf not a dog. Have you ever seen Lily's Patronus?”

Severus shakes his head.

“Dumbledore said it was a doe.”

“When did you say you learned to cast the spell? From Regulus in 6^th year, if I remember correctly. We only learned it in 7^th year, private lessons with Dumbledore for the new Order recruits. Your Patronus was a doe before Lily even had one. Wait, I think I know a picture of the doe I saw at the lake. You can tell me, if it's correct.”

I let my eyes wander over the bookshelves. I think I've seen one of Regulus' books on them. Tales about knightly wizards, warriors from a time before time, before the Muggles ruled. Kreacher read from them, when we were little and Regulus loved it. I loved it, too.

I've found the one I've been looking for.

“Look at this picture. This is the Patronus I saw.”

The illustration shows a young warrior wizard and his familiar. The knight goes an a quest. The next pages show the doe leading the knight through dark forests and over bare mountains. The wizard fights evil and Dark creatures. He discovers magic secrets and treasures.

“Is this your Patronus?”

“Yes, it looks like mine, but....”

“You don't get it, do you? This is your doe, your guardian, your guide on your quest. Lily's Patronus had nothing to do with this. This represents your inner self, your strive for knowledge and great deeds, your ambition..... your own goodness.”

“You show your true nature again. Merciless hound tearing your game apart. You've got to take away the last bit I could rely on.”

Severus still doesn't understand. He can be such a bloody idiot. I call for one of his ugly portraits.

“Go find my brother. Tell him he's needed here immediately!”

Severus has lowered his face into his hands. I want to give him my support, put my hand on his shoulder, but I know that he needs to hear it from someone he trusts. Regulus arrives within minutes. He pushes the healer out of his frame and looks around. He sees the open book.

“By Salazar! Sirius, you didn't try to tell him the truth about his Patronus, did you?”

Severus raises his head. “Regulus!” he cries out.

“Sev, I recognized it immediately the moment it took shape. It was so right for you, so perfect. And you started blabbing about Evans. I knew there was no point to tell you the truth. You were deaf and blind when it came to her. I gave you the book in hope you figured it out yourself.”

“Get out!” Severus doesn't shout which makes it even worse. Reggie disappears immediately and I think he's right.

~Severus~

I cannot be around them, put up with their or anyone's company. Regulus is gone in a flash and Sirius moves in haste to my office door. They're attempting to drive me insane? The thistle in the soul, the way they twist it? The Blacks have always been given to sadism. Perhaps not but I feel some need to accuse them. They can't mean it. It's like a wound, and they have the salt. A wound I wasn't aware of, but to my even greater chagrin something I have considered before. That we weren't the same doe, each the selfsame Patronus.

But this book! I pick it up and hurtle it after Sirius. He just let me see some pretty shaky memories. I should trust him. I asked him here. He is not trying to torture me, he thinks he is giving me a compliment, that's strange. My honour-bound familiar? I think not. Me a knightly wizard on some quest? A symbol perhaps, nothing more.

Zara is rustling on his perch. I feel insane as I do this. I pick up the book, crumpled at the door Sirius disappeared through. I carefully flick through the pages to the image so like my Patronus. The knight looks noble of course. She, the true doe, leads but she isn't Lily. If I could only see Lily's doe. “Is this my Patronus?” I ask Zara like a blithering idiot. He clicks his beak several times and hoots as if annoyed.

A little bird told me.. I may as well ask Alexi as well., but she's off hunting.

Regulus' involvement confirms for me that they are not attempting to cut me down. Something Regulus has hidden for so long....but wait, he's a portrait of a teenager that knew my teenage self, and at the age of sixteen I would never have accepted that the does could be different.

Some compliment. Though perhaps it is. As if to say, “You aren't honourable in the way you thought you were, but in some way more in keeping with your Slytherin nature.” That's not so bad then. But...

It's like losing her and gaining myself all over again. There was grief and acceptance and work to do the first time around, and all I can see now is grief. I cannot mirror her. It is about time I leave her, she didn't want me to pine after her. She … was never my doe. I was my own doe. How many times do I have to repeat it until I can feel it?

The clock chimes twelve. I think the school can do without their Headmaster's presence at lunch.

Snacks And Letters - Part 87

Wed, 15 Feb 2012 18:38:09 GMT

Authors: sionna_raven and valkyriekat
Title: Snacks and Letters - Part 87
Word Count: 4619

~Severus~

Sirius is strutting behind me like a minor god. Or he thinks he's Icarus perhaps, flying with his pureblood prat wings. I have to correct him of that impression. If he thinks he has ever been in worse trouble with me since letter number one, he is mistaken.

“Black!” I snarl at him without bothering to look at him, addressing his left shoulder. I hope he knows he is unworthy of my attention. This is Sirius Black, should I expect better? “Perhaps we should return outside and tell Filch to park that contraption under the gutter or open drain? Along with what sense I thought you had? Well? What in Salazar's name were you thinking? You may have avoided the Muggles, unlike little Potter, but you thought you'd play irresponsible Godfather and fly around Hogwarts? You needed to make a grand entrance like Harry once did?”

I'm pressing him. I don't want him to fight me, I want him to listen for one blessed moment in his life.

There is excited, cheery talk around us, and sniggering. I could kill him. Students and faculty murmur the fantastic story to one another and leave us room to walk only so that they have a better vantage point from which to stare at us.

My eyes find Regulus' portrait. Sirius has a half-smile on his lips, even still.

“Explain,” I ask Regulus. “Your brother is obviously incapable of simple reason.”

Regulus winces. “I think Sirius wanted to show off his bike Gryffindor style, is all. No need to add to that. We both know Gryffindors are morons.”

“Do you know mythology, Regulus? I think Sirius here is Icarus. Icarus had waxen wings built by his father. His father told him to fly at low elevations because the wax could be melted by the sun. But noooo, Icarus became exhilarated by flight. Ignoring his father's warning, he flew higher and higher. The sun melted the wax holding his wings together, and the boy fell into the water and drowned.”

I glare at Sirius. He looks unnerved, though he has seen me glare at him many times.

“It was a violation of my trust for you to melt your wings, Sirius. A lie that you would do what I asked of you, that you would try hard to win my confidence.” I snarl and fume.

“A violation of your trust? You had some?” Sirius looks at me oddly. I could kill myself for lack of forethought in the wording in that sentence. “Come on...”

“I'm coming nowhere. I should tell you and your accursed elf to get out of my sight and off the grounds of my school. But I have no other person signed for the Defence post.” My voice is getting quieter as Sirius follows me down the stone steps to my rooms.

“I want to hex you for lack of real loyalty. You should know what position it puts me in to have a member of staff, a friend no less, behaving like an utter imbecile.” The throng of Sirius-followers – and I can tell that there will be many – are no longer following. No sensible student wishes to disturb me. The adults should think likewise. I should let Minerva know what I think of her playing along.

Sirius barely defends himself, first time on a bike with Regulus, got a bit carried away. What's the big deal?

We reach my office door, and I use a form of Alohomora unknown to students and staff alike. And I use it non-verbally, for Sirius will have access to my rooms only when he learns that friendship, loyalty, and trust are not to be meddled with. Even a Gryffindor can understand that. I turn as the door opens.

“Severus, I wish... I admit I'm a brat... sorry...”

I slip inside and spit, “Too late for that. If you should need me, please feel free to stay away.” And I slam the door in his face.

~Sirius~

I stare at the closed door, the door of his old office, not the Headmaster's office. What does that bloody idiot think? I haven't endangered the Statute of Secrecy! My bike is legal! Don't know how Arthur and Kingsley did that, but it is.

If he just let me explain. It's not all that simple. All right I enjoyed it, but that's not all.

“You've put your foot right in it.” Regulus states needlessly.

“Oh thanks, I wouldn't have noticed without you. Are you going to help me out? I suppose he will listen to you.”

I've taken him out of my pocket to face him while we discuss the matter.

“If I push you under the door, will you remind him that my reputation with the public is nearly as bad as his? There's more than one wizard who still believes that I've been a Death Eater and the Ministry hasn't made a mistake when they locked me up. Now they've seen that I am a reckless Gryffindor and on good terms with Minerva McGonagall. They will tell their parents. That will make life a lot easier for both of us.”

“You are you trying to fool? You wanted to go by bike and you enjoyed the flight with Professor McGonagall.”

“And you didn't? C'mon, you know what I mean. I haven't planned the flight. It was just a spontaneous idea and it worked. Will you try to explain it to Sev and tell him I'm sorry that I haven't warned him?”

“I'll try. There's no guarantee with Severus. It was just the thing we hated about you and Potter, making a show of everything and getting away with it. You always got away with everything.”

“We didn't! I think we still hold the all time record with detentions and that's saying something after seven Weasleys.”

“That's nothing to be proud of.”

“Spoil sport! You would have loved to do the same.”

“We wouldn't. We preferred not to get caught. If we'd done some of the things you did, we'd have been expelled.”

“That depends on the headmaster. Tell him I won't fly my bike again without his permission. He can have the keys. Next time I'll take him for a round over the castle.”

“I certainly won't tell him that.”

“Tell him what you want, but please make him open that door and talk to me again, will you? Please Reggie.”

“You owe me. Keep that in mind.”

“I know. I always did, didn't I?”

I shove the picture under the door. I can hear them whisper, Reggie trying to explain things and pleading my case and Sev growling.

~Severus~

I can stand the bike trip, I agree with Regulus that I can even stand the little jaunt with Minerva as I listened to the brothers speaking outside the door. I wonder if Sirius wanted to be overheard, be was speaking so loudly and clearly.

It does make a good impression, him being friends with Minerva and not a real Dark Arts teacher who might teach Defence on the side. Not the Dark hound of Azkaban. Reg says so the minute he passes under the door.

But Sirius could have warned me. He does everything by the seat of his pants. I, at least, fly by the seat of my pants when I have a specific destination in mind. He's infuriating.

Regulus sits in my palm. The portrait is so small, it seems horrible to rage against a defenceless thing. And this is Regulus my old friend, and a fellow Slytherin. He's always had more going on in his head than the intellectual nonsense Sirius and I have. What did he say?

“Severus, he's your friend, and when friends make mistakes you teach them the right way and back them up against their enemies. If you come out as Headmaster showing all this derision, it will tarnish your reputation as much as his.”

I glare at the tube-worms and the ocelot spleens. No matter how much I'd like to hex Sirius, I see some truth in that argument. “I don't wish to divide the staff.” I mutter these words to a flask of formaldehyde. Then I look at Reg, in my palm. “We will disagree privately about the manner of his arrival.” I pause before continuing.

“Anything Sirius accomplished, he did so by mistake. Except sending the first letter.” I'm murmuring low, speaking so that no prying ears, Extendible or not, can hear me, just Regulus. “That action I don't wish reversed. That's why I'm so angry. He betrayed me.”

“Not in his mind,” Regulus says.”Your trust means everything to him.” He shrugs his narrow sketched shoulders. “He's a nutter but he's my brother and I ask you to give him a little free space. He'll be tortured enough by his thoughts of your anger for you to add extra helpings.”

“Argh!” I say vehemently, “Sweet Salazar, why does he never think ahead?”

“He does. You know it. He just goes off kilter sometimes. With you it's rationalizing, sarcasm and sneering. With him, it's all in good fun, edginess and devotion.”

“I thought you didn't spout nonsense.” I smirk at the portrait.

“I'm a teenager! I have to spout nonsense! Come out into the hall. You have to see what Kreacher has done to Sirius' quarters. Kreacher's been telling me. A Gryffindor four poster, piled high with extra crimson sheets, silk pillowcases with room for three, there's even a Muggle picture of a motorbike. He really wants to surprise him. Of course there's about fifty types of lotions and balms for corns and cracked heels that survived Azkaban. And the robes... the best robes that never go out of fashion, simple and of supple, elegant material. There are carpets and area rugs, an Axminster, a lifetime supply of Floo powder in an ornate Chinese box. Then there's the ones meant to show Sirius that he comes from the Black Family...”

“The last I can witness.” I suppress a smile.

“Come on, Sev. Let bygones be bygones. You two have let go of so much crap I would hate to see you fail over something as trivial as this. Come on, won't you see the Black family crest on the Gryffindor headboard?”

I try to keep frowning but find it very hard. Sirius is lucky to have Regulus. The picture I made. If Sirius doesn't kill me the irony will.

“Very well.” I open the door, and Sirius stands on the other side, so near to the door he must have heard some of the conversation.

“Ask for Kreacher to give us a tour of your quarters, Professor Black.” I say, disarming him with politeness. “We have more to discuss than the trivial exploits of your arrival,” I add. I hand Regulus back to him. Regulus winks.

~Sirius~

“Thank you,” I whisper to the portrait as I put it back to my pocket.

Instinctively I avoid eye contact with Severus until I remember that with humans this means trying to hide something and not respect and peaceful intentions. Reason is what is called for.

“I'm sorry I haven't informed you about my travelling arrangements, Headmaster. It's not like I've just been relying on my luck to get here unseen. We only took to the air north of Manchester. My bike is legal. I have a Ministry permit to fly it and a valid Muggle driving license.“

“Always good to have connections with the Ministry, isn't it?” Sometimes it's hard to tell whether his sarcasm is just sarcasm or he's really angry. I drop the topic.

“My quarters then? I hope Kreacher hasn't given you too much trouble. He was unstoppable. I thought I'd better let him have his way and undo the worst later.”

“He's outdone himself as far as I know. You're rooms are certainly worthy of the last of the Blacks.”

Severus smirks at my look of despair. In my mind I see masses of green velvet and snake-shaped handles at every door and drawer.

I follow Severus through the ever-changing staircases of Hogwarts. I'm sure the Defence classroom wasn't on the 7^th floor when we were students.

“Kreacher?” I knock at the door.

Kreacher opens immediately. Whatever he has accomplished it has made him happy. I intend to yield to the headmaster, but she smirks again and shakes his head.

“Your rooms, you should have the first look.”

His politeness and suddenly improved mood is not a good sign. I enter hesitantly and sigh in relief. The office is rather decent, a bit on the red side. There's plenty space for books and a nice desk to work at. He has really outdone himself with the poster of the bike, though I feel a little bit too old for the bikini girl.

I smile at Kreacher who takes my hand to lead me to the bedroom.

It is red! Crimson red! Curtains, bed linen, everything!The family crest on the headboard looks a bit out off place. Kreacher looks at me expectantly. He really tried please me.

“Padfoot will love the carpets and the bed. Kreacher, it's really nice. Thank you very much.”

Stop grinning, Sev. I know this room is fit for – it starts with the same letters, but it's not professor.

“Nice setting to turn a trick.”

“Severus, please.”

Kreacher luckily doesn't get the point; Regulus giggles, though. I guess it's the right moment to take him out of here.

Unfortunately the tour is not over, yet. Bathroom? Can it get worse? It can. He must have gotten his inspiration from the prefects' bathroom. James and Remus shared the password with me. The friendly mosaic of a merman waves at me from the wall over the tub. There's a shelf with potions or lotions and soaps. Severus is chuckling. He has taken up one bottle.

“Your elf is very thoughtful. Azidirachta Indica.”

“Bless you.”

“Indian lilac, neem? Ever heard of it?”

I take the bottle out of his hand. Neem shampoo?

“Kreacher! I haven't had fleas for years!”

Kreacher smiles sheepishly. I can't be really angry with him. He has managed to cheer Severus up.

We can return to the study at last. I praise Kreacher again for his efforts. Severus keeps a straight face. He has understood that I don't want to hurt the elf's feelings. This is what he thinks Gryffindors like. Talking about unfortunate prejudice.

“Let's find a place for Regulus.”

I take the postcard off my pocket and undo the Shrinking Charm. Regulus stretches his joints.

“I'd like a nice place in your study. I don't want to disturb you, when I come home at night.”

I look at the headmaster for support. He shrugs.

“He's a portrait not a boy.”

I give up. To me he is my brother frozen in time at the age of fifteen, but in fact he is a twenty-four years old portrait of a fifteen year old boy who died twenty-one years ago. Does that make him of age somehow? Arithmancy has never been my favourite subject.

I have a good look around the office.

“There's a perfect spot over the fireplace, but...”

Kreacher jumps up and rips the picture of the bike off the wall and with it that ridiculous half-naked girl. Hasn't it occurred to anyone that even at sixteen I wanted the bikes on my wall and the girls were only a bonus to upset my mother? It's nearly impossible to get a bike without the girl.

“Best place for Master Regulus! Nice and warm and he can see everything.” Kreacher squeals. I'm glad we agree and put Regulus on the wall.

“You wanted to talk, Severus? Would you accept my hospitality for now?”

I point at the two armchairs in front of the fire. Severus follows my invitation and sits down.

“One more thing. Kreacher, I have a task for you. Mistress Ginny expects guests on Thursday night, the girls from her Quidditch team. She hopes you can help her with the preparations. Why don't you go to Godric's Hollow and discuss it with her?”

Kreacher nods with his eyes gleaming and Disapparates on the spot. I drop on the other chair and sigh.

“I need to keep him busy, before he gets even more creative. Severus, about Thursday... Harry would rather avoid a house full of Harpies. We'd like to spend a few hours in town, just the two of us together. Is this all right with you? I'll take the floo of course.”

~Severus~

“Of course, fine by me,” I echo with a hint of a sneer. Sirius looks at me and shakes his head. “Sev...”

“Run off to Potter if you have to, only you know where your loyalties lie,” I snarl softly, giving him a hard look.

He stares, and then rolls his eyes at the crimson ceiling embedded with gold flakes. I glance up too, then fix my stare on Sirius. One minute he's irresponsible, I try to get over it. Then he ducks out to run to Harry. If he speaks the words “get over it” I will express my extreme displeasure.

“Can't you of all people believe that more than one allegiance is possible? Family, friends, it used to be the Order, you too, and you being my friend after our history? I don't question your loyalty. And Harry is my godchild. Harry. Wake up, Severus.”

Close enough. I raise an eyebrow full of irony and say, “Just one little thing. I wanted to see if you have a predisposition toward Occlumency.”

Sirius gives me a challenging look. He shrugs and stands, withdrawing his wand. “I have a good idea of how it works,” Sirius says. He's silhouetted by the dancing red flames. I think of red hair and the Dark Lord's eyes and my temper doesn't improve.

“Do you really?” My wand is in my hand quicker than a snitch in Potter's. I goad myself if he won't do it, just to add some interest to the ... informal training.

His wand and mine raise at the same moment. He waits. He knows. “I will attempt to breach your defences using Legilimency. Empty your mind, make it calm, make it blank. You may block me, using any means but a curse.”

I can see the barking dog in his grey eyes, now that I'm used to light. It's a chase and toy with him, isn't it? A shadow crosses his face. Is this real, my so-loyal mutt? It is.

“Three, two, one - Legilimens!” I hiss and I encounter more immediate resistance than any other. But he lets me in, I bowl over his inner dog. I see flashes....

A small boy being read to in bed by a house-elf, Potter and Sirius vanishing dead snakes all over what must be his dormitory, even eels in the toilet. Regulus and Sirius chasing a snitch. The same boys running hand in hand through Muggle streets. A stag and Padfoot chasing along either side of a werewolf...nothing damaging...

Suddenly I am myself and he has used a Hurling Hex to knock me back, and for a moment, I'm seeing my memories, and I'm curious how far he can get in. My curiosity cost me.

I'm eight, fishing through a bin for scraps of food to take home. A Muggle woman comes out of the pub and silently hands me fish and chips....I'm leaping off a swing at the same time as Lily. She floats up and lands lightly. I float higher. I land in a sprawl beside her, ankle twisted. She laughs and....

I block Sirius. I can see him staring at me with his hand raised. “Expelliarmus!” I use it silently. Sirius has lost his wand. “Not bad for the first attempt.” It's hard to stay angry with him. As long as he doesn't ask about Lily's laugh. She was not herself. Or at least didn't live up to my expectations of her. We're both still standing upright, both panting. I steady myself first.

“This is a baseline to operate from. The harder you resist, the more I see. The calmer the mind, the better.” I straighten my robes. “I allowed you easy access. You kept yourself quite controlled but I can easily use your reckless challenge-hungry nature against you.”

“I know you're mad at me again,” Sirius says, no longer panting so hard. Quick recovery for a first attempt. I'm not as mad but...

“I am not full of puppy snuggles.” I state it like any other statement. This makes Sirius snort and laugh, and it looks like he can't stop.

~Sirius~

I can't help laughing. Puppy snuggles, I'm thinking of the furry, fringed crotched cushion Lily made. Padfoot spread it all over the living room, feathers and threads and all. Padfoot looked like the cushion himself afterwards and Lily screamed like hell, until James had sorted it out. Severus raises his wand again for another attempt.

I have to get James out of my mind. And Lily! All this may destroy the fragile trust we have built up in the last two weeks. There are memories I don't want to share, only a few and mostly because I don't want to remember myself. There are also plenty of memories he won't like to find, good memories for my part, bad for him. I think of James, ruffling his hair, playing with a snitch, about to hex.... He doesn't want me to see 'his' Lily. I doubt he wants to see mine, James' Lily.

Empty your mind, easier said than done. The moment I try to hide a memory by not thinking of it, I do think it. I see James' head popping out of a compartment door. He stretches his hand out in greeting and I take it. James' arm around my shoulders. James laughing, pointing at....Snivellus. Lily telling us off, turning her back to smile. She smiled a lot watching James making a fool of himself to impress her. She smiled when he raised the Quidditch Cup. She even smiled when she picked the last bits of wool and feathers out of Padfoot's fur. She didn't smile when I cut off her pig tails with Zonko scissors.

Lily pleading with me while I shake my head. Lily with tears in her eyes. An old spell book....

“.... the secret which is subject of the Fidelius Charm will not be buried with the Secret Keeper..... will become Secret Keeper in his own right, after the death of the original Secret Keeper.” …. “To protect the secret eternally ….decide to transfer it into the living soul of another wizard. …. The original Secret keeper can die in peace knowing that the secret will remain untouched by his death.”

~Severus~

I pull out of Sirius' mind, violently. I break the connection with all my force of will. He does not get the opportunity to see into my mind because this is not a trivial nonsense game going on here. I know he tried not to think of her – the hidden always appears first.

So that is how Lily was in his books.

And James. I never wanted Potter dead until today. He changed my Lily into a foul..and Sirius!

This is the man I want teaching here? To do what, snipe at the most obvious target? Children can be very cruel. Witness Ronald Weasley and the damned godchild hoping I was sick or sacked or dead... and teenagers as well. They will always go for the open provocation whether it's intentional or not.

I don't care that Sirius is on his back on the floor. I feel like spitting...hexing...cursing. But I am not yet as cruel as a child. I'll let him get to his feet before I start on him. I reach out a hand and Sirius reaches toward it, but I swiftly pull my hand away.

I'm incredibly socially mature.

The images pierce me like white-hot daggers. Lily of the treacherous smile, the smile I thought was so mysterious has meaning and images of her eyes, of Padfoot – she loved that hangdog hound better than she did me! The tenderness of her hands removing feathers and wool.

Sirius is on his feet. “Happy, Black? Your putrid mind tells no lies, except perhaps to itself.” I've got a stitch in my side from restraining my body from shaking and my wand arm striking. “You offered me too much opportunity to see if you can block me without resisting me! To perhaps set up a false image. And don't try to tell me you lied,” my voice is getting very waspish,

Sirius looks angry. He'll send me down my end of the castle, down seven floors and more beneath. Do I care?“That's your truth.”

A pause.

“Did Lily ever mention me as an adult?” The question I wanted to ask since the beginning of our correspondence eats me like corrosive battery acid or perhaps Bubotuber pus.

Sirius sighs. “You have to understand, Lily was in love with James. She never talked about anyone or anything but him and their little world of planets with Harry as the Sun. She spoke about you in her letters. Never in front of James. The letters are lost. I'm sorry.”

This is so inadequate compared to what I feel, have felt, almost my entire lifespan. Everything for her. Nothing else mattered, but her and her unfortunate child. And he only mattered in saving what she loved most. He's grown. He and Sirius will be meeting on Thursday. Sirius slaps me on the back a little harder than necessary. We're both irate.

“I don't mind your visiting Harry. Just keep clear of me and spare me the details.” This is far out in left field for Sirius, who can't possibly know where my mind is tumbling. But-

“I'll take care of Harry from here, shall I? Give you some peace. Before you try any more Legilimency, I think we should split for the time being. Too much, too raw, we both need time to think.”

I jerk my head to indicate assent while staring at my shoes. I can tell my eyes have the haunted cold tunnel look the minute I raise my head and our eyes meet. He is equally haunted, likely more than I. My mind is formulating cutting remarks but I rethink them.

“You show some small aptitude. On the first attempt. Tonight, deep breathing, centre yourself and empty your mind, not that it holds a lot.” I have to add that, I was born to snark.

I stand and Sirius walks me to the door. “If you wish I can alter the house colours,” I add, smirking.

“Kreacher...” He foresees danger.

“Can enjoy changing it back when he returns. I have a certain skill at interior design.”

Every scarlet inch turns emerald green, silver serpents streak the ceiling instead of gold leaf and I have a nasty grin. It's only the office, but still. “Enjoy yourself, Professor.” How many times in one day can I snap a door behind me, leaving behind a no doubt consternated Black?

Snacks and Letters - Part 86

Sat, 04 Feb 2012 07:22:23 GMT

Snacks and Letters - Part 86

Author: </a></b></a>sionna_raven
Title: Snacks And Letters - Part 86
Word Count: 1812

~Sirius~

Kreacher has been in and out of the house since Thursday. I've heard him shifting furniture and rummaging through the cupboards. I don't even dare to ask. There hasn't been a howler from the headmaster, so I hope the elf hasn't gone completely over the top with his ideas what I will need at Hogwarts.
I've won the fight over my wardrobe. I need some jeans and other Muggle stuff. When I reminded him that I still don't appreciate snakes in my bedroom, he looked offended and started muttering under his breath.
Yesterday I went to Andromeda's place. Kreacher has been too busy to make me lunch anyway. She has been very interested in hearing the outcome of my meeting with Kingsley. I didn't tell her every detail. I know she would have understood, but Kingsley is right three people and a ghost are more than enough to know. It was an enjoyable afternoon. Teddy is much like his father. I hope to see him grow up to be the man Remus could have been without the curse. He already shows signs that he has inherited Dora's rare gift. Andromeda has to be on guard permanently, but she's been through it before and knows how to handle the situation. She wants him to get in contact with Muggle children as soon as possible, but it's difficult, when his hair suddenly changes colour or other strange things happen. She often visits Fleur at Shell Cottage to let him play with Victoire.

I've decided to take my bike to Hogwarts. I could have sent it by magic which would have been reasonable in this weather, but I don't want to be reasonable about that. A bit of rain for most part of the journey won't do me any harm. I'll fly as soon as I've reached the less populated regions.
There's one issue that I've given a lot of thought since I began to prepare. Regulus' portrait, of course he coming with me, but I wish to really take him for the ride. I've not forgotten that I broke the promise about the first ride on my motorbike. I took James not Reggie. I doubt he'd come, but I should have asked. Perhaps he doesn't remember. He was just about five when I made the promise.
How to take a piece of parchment on a ride on a motorbike in rain and snow? Protective spells, Impervius, but I can't possibly pin it on the back of my jacket.

“Do you mind, if I shrink you to the size of a postcard, Reggie? Just for the journey?”

“What for? Just furl me and put me into your bag. “ He watches the biker gear I'm already wearing in wonder. Then he seems to understand. “You've gotten one of those bike things, two wheeled Muggle vehicle like a broom, but unable to fly. Does yours fly?”

I grin in a way Severus would surely call arrogant. “Of course, it flies. I've said I'll make it fly.”

“Since when....? Have you …?” He doesn't need to spell it out. I knew he remembers.

“The summer after you were drawn. No, I didn't keep my promise. How could I? Would you've come, if I called for you in front of this house I couldn't enter any more? Would you've been at home at all or already with....”

Regulus bites his lips. He thinks about his answer. His reply is barely audible.

“I don't know. You could have tried....”

“Yes, I should have tried. …..... Are you coming now?”

“Of course! Though I don't believe it's as much fun as riding a broom.”

“Judge for yourself, after you've seen it. It even more fun, if you don't get sick.”

“I never get sick. I'm a better flier than you are. “

“If you say so.... Come on, I've got to shrink you and put the protection spells on your canvas.”

I put him behind the plastic front of my breast pocket. Clever Muggle invention, I think they use it for tickets and name plates.

We take the Muggle roads north. I remember Kingsley's warning about not wanting to read reports on me. My baby can go pretty high above the clouds, but the weather is even worse up there.
At Wigan I leave the M6. From now on it doesn't matter too much, if we are seen. Who'd believe a single farmer who claims to have seen a flying motorbike? I even take off the stupid helmet. Now I can hear Reggie squeal for joy, when we soar through the clouds. The rain splashing in our faces. I was only teasing when I said he could get sick. I knew he would love it. After a while the rain turns into snow. I go slower. The soft flakes float around us. The ground below is white. Only a few roads are cleared. I can vaguely recognise the track of the Hogwarts Express.

“You were right! This is fun!” ,Regulus shouts. “Only a bit loud! Can you go lower? I want to see more of the grounds.”

I go down, following the tracks. They are covered with snow. The next train will go in a week. There aren't any Muggles around this time of year. Far away I can see the peaks of the mountains surrounding Hogwarts. It will still take us an hour or two to get there.
There's a snow drift on the track.

“Hold on, Reggie!”

We race through it one foot above the ground. The snow swirls all around us. Regulus screams. I slow down and hovering on the spot I brush the flakes off. My old girl is still up to a bit of fun.

“That was bloody brilliant! I wish I could try this on a broomstick.”

“We'll look for a snowy landscape at Hogwarts and somewhere we should find a painted racing broom.”

I don't do any more stunts until we reach the first houses of Hogsmeade. I drive down the main road at moderate speed. People stick their heads out of windows and doors to see the source of the unusual noise. The door of The Three Broomsticks opens. Rosmerta runs out waving her hands. I stop in front of her.

“Sirius Black! About time you show your face. I had to read about your return in the papers.”

“Don't tell me you believed one single word.”

She winks and laughs.

“Now get off that mechanical monster and give us a hug.”

I lift her up and swirl her around. Regulus protests as she throws her arms around my neck and gives me a kiss on the cheek.

“What's that, Sirius?”

“My little brother Regulus. Remember him?” I point at his portrait in my pocket.

“Of course I remember young Regulus Black. Always a perfect gentleman unlike his brother.”

Rosmerta puts one finger to her lips and sends a kiss to the portrait. Regulus blushes.

“Hey careful! The boy is just fifteen.”

She giggles and Regulus turns a deeper shade of pink.

“Now Sirius, what brings you here? I don't dare to hope that you just drop by to say hello to your favourite landlady.”

“I'm afraid not. I'm on my way to the castle. Starting a new job.”

“Merlin! You are the new Defence teacher? The headmaster must be desperate.”

“He will be, if I don't get on my way. I want to be there before dusk.”

“I expect you to be back soon. You've got to tell me all about your return. Or I have to believe the papers.”

“Don't you dare! I'll see you as soon as the headmaster lets me off the leash.”

“Since when do you need for the headmaster's permission to come and see me?”

“I'd better with the current one.”

The road from Hogsmeade to the castle is magically kept free of snow and ice. The ride is quite pleasant. It's a bit like coming home. On the grounds near the castle a group of students is having a snowball fight. I have to swerve to avoid being hit. The students turn their heads. I dismount at the great oak doors. More students gather trying to get a look at my baby and there is an old acquaintance of mine. Shooing the kids out off the way Filch storms out and plants himself in front of me.

“Black!” , he barks.

“Mr. Filch.” I say trying to be polite. I had almost forgotten about him still working at Hogwarts. It is reassuring that one personal enmity hasn't changed. He gasps for breath.

“What does this mean? What are you doing with this.... on the school grounds?”

“I was hoping that you could show me a dry place to keep my girl safe, Filch.”

“You....”

Another voice much more cheerful and friendly interrupts him.
“Argus, I think we can put Professor Black's motorbike in the back of the carriage shed.” Filch looks like he's going to explode as Minerva calls me Professor. “Sirius, we've been expecting you via the Floo network. Anyway, it's good to see you.”

She has taken my hand in greeting. I raise hers to my lips. “Good to see you too, Minerva. Still my guardian protecting me from the wrath of the caretaker?” I add in a lower voice.

“I hope there's no need to protect you from anyone nowadays. Just behave yourself, Sirius Black. Or you'll feel my wrath.”

“I wouldn't risk that.” I suddenly have an idea. “May I invite my favourite teacher and former Head of House to a round on my bike?”

“Oh Sirius, no, that's impossible. You're crazy. I can't....no....” , she protests, but I know her. I can see the gleam in her eyes. She can't possibly resist the temptation to fly. I ignore her protest and place her on the saddle.
“Put your arms around my waist.”
She does, giggling like a young girl and we rise slowly off the ground, hover a bit over the students' heads and soar up to circle Gryffindor tower. We fly a round over the roofs of the rebuilt castle and land smoothly at the entrance again. I help her off and she starts sorting her slightly ruffled skirts. “Sirius, you are impossible,” but she laughs.

A dark figure stands on top of the entrance stairs. Severus' face is unreadable as ever. I grab the saddle bags and hand my bike to Filch who pushes her towards the stables, swearing under his breath. I walk up the stairs trying to look serious.

“Headmaster.” I greet him inclining my head.

“My office, now!” Severus turns on his heels and leaves me no choice than to follow him like an unruly students awaiting his punishment. I have a certain routine in doing that I can't deny. Before the doors close behind us I turn my head and twinkle at Minerva.

Snacks and Letters - Part 85

Thu, 19 Jan 2012 23:33:51 GMT

Authors: sionna_raven and valkyriekat
Title: Snacks and Letters - Part 85
Word Count: 694

~Sirius~

'Off to Hogwarts', not yet. I need to pack and not just books. I'd better let Kreacher do the packing and remove anything that looks like borrowed from Phineas' wardrobe afterwards. I remember 4^th year I did the packing all on my own and my trunk was filled with Quidditch gear, chocolate frogs and Zonko products. Over the first week three owls a day arrived with unimportant things like socks, pants, handkerchiefs and even more chocolate. How could I be expected to think of such trivial necessities?

Peter got sick from all the chocolate and Remus accused me of having done it on purpose. Perhaps, though I haven't forced him to eat it all at once. James and I were only interested in the cards and Peter eagerly volunteered to take care of the frogs. Remus still had most of his share untouched on the first Hogsmeade weekend. I got 6 Salazar Slytherins and James insinuated that my mother knew a spell to identify the wizards on the cards and saw to it that I got the right ones. I doubt it, because Regulus was very delighted when I gave him the cards.

Regulus! My 4^Th year was his first on the team. I didn't even see him play in his first match. Strange coincidence that I never had the chance to play against him. That year it was the detention I took in James' place, the next I was banned from the remaining matches because of the prank I played on Severus. 6^Th year I spent the Gryffindor - Slytherin match in the hospital wing and 7^th year James wanted to give a younger seeker a chance, fine with me of course. It happened to be for that one match.

“Master Sirius, has the headmaster said anything about your rooms?”

My rooms? Hogwarts accommodations are equipped with all things necessary. I shake my head.

Kreacher frowns at my thoughtlessness.

“Kreacher will see to it that everything is prepared and comfortable. Kreacher looks after his master. Kreacher knows what you need.”

I surrender to his expertise and determination. With a pop he's gone. The mental image of him discussing curtain fabric and wallpaper patterns with poor Severus runs through my mind.

I search the pantry for something edible. Merlin bless that elf! He left a plate with sandwiches.

I send it to the drawing room and follow with the pile of new schoolbooks under my arm.

~Severus~

I am just getting settled and my packages put away when the unmistakable loud CRACK of a house-elf announces Kreacher's arrival in my dungeon office. He's muttering to himself, as strangely as ever. “Still doesn't know what it means to be a Black,” Kreacher mutters. “Doesn't know the respect due his station. The pristine order, the exuberant, yet still the serenity...”

“I wasn't aware you wrote poetry, Kreacher,” I say with a snap as loud as his CRACK but without the volume.

“Kreacher has come to prepare Master's rooms,” Kreacher says. He jumped a mile when I address him. He just hugged me days ago and wept on my feet. Irksome little...but he's an elf.

“Do you know where the rooms are?” I snap again, leaning down over him.

“Yes, Master Severus. I needed to discuss the needs of my master. In the bath chamber, certain essential oils...”

“I am not aware that I showed the slightest interest in discussing it. Tell Sirius from me that he disgusts me, sending a house-elf to please his pampered pureblood. Really, Slughorn is the only staff member I thought capable of such arrogance.”

I feel like ranting but I hate it when elves cringe. Surely Phineas Nigellus hadn't been the same?

“Kreacher will do it despite Master, for Master's sake, Master Sirius wanted nothing to do with it.”

“Even so, do an excellent job, Kreacher. So excellent that all your ancestors would give you praise.” I sneer but it's still an order from the Master's best friend.

“Yes, Master, sir.”

I can imagine some of the pleasant additions and I think he just may want to kill me.

Snacks And Letters - Part 84

Sun, 15 Jan 2012 18:21:04 GMT

Author: valkyriekat
Title: Snacks and Letters - Part 84
Word Count: 3556

~Severus~

Finally I see Sirius arrive, and he's not as late as I expected but I give him an annoyed look, a glare that I hope gives some indication of an employer-employee relationship that is not strained by friendship. I am barking up the wrong tree or perhaps at the wrong hound. I can be as cold as I wish and he will still like me. How irritating.

My lip doesn't curl despite my annoyance. Care for a house elf on the Minister's orders? I raise a brow, as if to see if he is having one on me. But he sees my face and skips the elf joke for now.

“The matters with Kingsley took slightly longer than anticipated. That and Harry grabbed me for a quick visit.”

I sound colder still at the mention of Harry. “Will you tell me the basics? What is to happen with Dearborn and the departed? And when?”

“Relax. I'll tell you in order.” Sirius tries to steer me back to my seat but I've had quite enough of sitting.

“Enough,” I snarl at him with foul intent. “We're going to tread where we can both walk between the raindrops so as not to get wet.”

“Are you calling me a skinny weakling?” Sirius says with a bark-like laugh as I lead him out into the alleyway, and tap the appropriate brick.

“Why would you think that I would insinuate such a thing? That would be the pot calling the kettle Black.”

“Ha, ha. Your sarcasm and pithy humour are lost on the initiated.” We step though the magical boundary, Sirius looking up at the sky and frowning at the lack of rain.

We barely notice where we are going and are soon in the middle of Diagon Alley, and I want to go to Eeylops Owl Emporium for Zara's treats. He hasn't had any in quite a while. But first things first. “Back to my question. What of Kingsley?” I press Sirius lightly in the chest and he doesn't back away into the display of cauldrons heaped high next to a door. Bloody Gryffindors are not easily intimidated. I smile. He knows me and backs up very slightly.

Sirius looks twice at me, and decides to start speaking again.

“Fine, as I said before you started on raindrops, I told them you'd checked the cave, that it is safe to enter. I mentioned Caradoc's accusation against you in hope that Kingsley would understand. I said Caradoc was impatient, and Kingsley was in Gryffindor with him. Kingsley understands that you had no choice but to act as you did, and Kingsley seems to approve of you.

He'll look at the cave with us likely on Monday or Tuesday. Percy will send an owl,” Sirius finishes.

“I am very grateful Weasley did not land in Slytherin house on sheer ambition. What a self-serving pompous prat.”

“Are you sure you didn't want him in Slytherin? Self-serving prat sounds like an accurate...”

I push Sirius into a puddle that is showcasing the spitting rain. He sprays me with his foot. We're no better than small misbehaving children.

“Anything else?” I say as I inspect the mud damage. Gryffindors have a talent with mud. I do recall Harry mudslinging most literally at Draco. They didn't splatter at the Black Christmas party. Things change, more than they should. I would die of self-loathing if I knew at sixteen who I walk with and in what manner. Sirius reminds me that I asked a question. He frowns with a hint of mischief not yet managed.

“I had to get a license to keep Kreacher. House elf owner's license. Pass a test.” The rain is coming down harder on the cobblestones. We're nearly at out destination but we're back at this nonsense.

“Excuse me? You're pulling my leg. Or Hermione Weasley is pulling the Ministry's leg. The elves – does she really think of Elfish welfare? Just her own self-righteous...”

“She means well. She's a Muddleborn, one has to expect muddled thought.”

“So Regulus taught you something,” I smirk as we enter Flourish and Blotts.

Someone whistles. People stare at us, silence, and then more silence among the bookshelves and the book laden tables. I smile, hoping Sirius thinks I cause this kind of reaction wherever I go. But this nice image gets stomped into dirt by a teenage girl squealing, “Merlin's beard, it's Black with Snape! Did the Headmaster lose his mind?” I recognize the girl, she's in my house. Her friend giggles hysterically. I do not approve of this dimwitted behaviour, but how to stop it?

I grab Sirius' arm in a friendly way. I would never do this but I loathe squealing. I lead him to the counter and ask for assistance with our purchases.

“That's not necessary,” Sirius says, straightening his shoulders and letting them fall back in pride. Evident pride that he is with me? I think not. I narrow my eyes.

“You prefer to enter the arena without a shield? Even lions will eat you for being with me just because I exist if you know what I mean.” I recall the words of James Potter so long ago.

“I'd call you paranoid but considering the surroundings...” He lets his voice trail away. I won't bite at him, he wants to be the brave Gryffindor that knows no caution? We both know better.

The attendant takes the list I prepared and Sirius' list and says, “We have the teachers manual for each subject. This is the second year since they've been introduced. However, I have never heard about them actually being used. Bloody busybodies.” She stops short and says, “Blimey. I didn't mean...” No skin off my nose but I won't tell her so.

“Blunder on by all means. It's just yet more meaningless noise.” I snap at her. Perhaps I have a bit of a short temper. Perhaps.

“We don't mind hearing what you have to say at all.” Sirius glowers at me. “I hear the Standard Book of Spells years one through seven have been reissued with a lot of serious revisions.”

“No doubt,” I say with a grimace. The assistant giggles. Being a bookshop employee she understands why I smile so ironically.

“They were rewritten with the knowledge of the Ministry, but luckily the Headmaster here took things in hand and reminded them that other Headmasters had not needed the Ministry to tell him how to run his school. A good thing, the changes. A few of the Defence teachers have been...very shady.” She looks at me again and I wish she'd stop eyeing me. I regret being with her. I remember her being a Ravenclaw. Chang.

“Which people wrote the revisions? Were they decent?” Sirius asks, grinning at my displeasure.

“Ask the Headmaster!” Chang says.“He wrote all of them.”

I smile tersely and turn away from Chang and look at Sirius, speaking in a barely audible tone, “What else does one expect of the Half Blood Prince? My hushed-up pen name?”

“Arrogant berk.” But I can tell he's impressed.

“You'll note the texts don't contain Sectumsempra or Levicorpus,” I say with a smirk.

We wander the shelves as a pair, feeling the eyes following us.

Sirius buys his set books for the year, and buys a number of other volumes, mostly obscure spell books and a tattered old book on magical creatures. I want to shop separately but the giggling, staring or hissing customers vex me to the point I know I'll need to use the spell I created last night in the Leaky Cauldron.

“Sirius,” I whisper at his side, “I'm going to cast a newly developed spell on us. It only works if there are two or more people. Put your foot on mine. This spell has no name but the Dunderhead Repelling Charm.”

Sirius looks a little alarmed, but hides it well. “We appear to others as together but disconnected, not together, which of course is the truth. It is a mind control spell that overcomes distance, and works on the weak-minded in particular. We have likely no cause to worry.”

“Older magic in a new way. I like it. What's the incantation?”

I draw my wand and aim it at our feet. Sirius obligingly puts one foot on my shoe. I aim, and chant slightly, “Celate Maxima, Celate Maxima...” I murmur it softly watching the interest wane but not disappear. Those who had looked curious or intrigued now lose their focus, and they turn to other things. There are a lot of weak-minded people on this planet

“Will it work at Hogwarts?” Sirius enquires, watching the clueless customers.

“We shall have to wait and see.” My tone is clipped.

“I hope we can use it.” Sirius has his head to one side like an inquisitive hound.

“We can send letters.” I say shortly. “I'm going to select some books for myself, excuse me. I will see you at the check-out.” That spell isn't the only mind control going on. I look at the books I bring to the check-out, and see Sirius looking disgruntled. He's buying other books as well and damned if half of them aren't the same as mine, and not schoolbooks. But I still have to pick up at least one book in Knockturn Alley.

I have a small number of items for sale there as well, whose profit goes to the Spellman's Literacy Fund. Items confiscated from last term. A Ravenclaw had a jinxed textbook that ate one's hand. A Slytherin had several cursed Dark Detectors and and a wand that had been altered until it produced nothing but hexes. A badger actually had a wasting watch, a watch that burned away the flesh of the wrist and was nearly impossible to remove.

Every term there were more.

One Dark Detector I have put aside as not for sale. It was affected by a complex curse – but that is it, that it was a complex curse. It took hours of using deviations on counter-curses known and unknown that I managed to make it workable. A miniature Foe-Glass the size of a paperback book. I'm distracted by my thought, that I told Sirius we can send letters. I obviously fear friendship.

I don't want to just send letters, I want there to be an open partnership between us, as educators and a friends. He would say I'm insecure and he'd be right, but where have I ever been provided the stability to nurture security? Sirius stands next to me with two overladen bookshop bags.

“The apothecary and Eeylops next?” I suggest. “And then a quick turn down Knockturn Alley?”

In reply he puts his foot on mine. He's determined to pursue our friendship, and I did him a nasty disservice in telling him we'd exchange letters. I scowl at our feet. I cast the Dunderhead Repelling Charm again, and I smile at him. “Better than if it were not necessary,” I say, and Sirius' eyes widen. He looks away. I haven't any idea what he's thinking. That will change when we're practising Occlumency. Has he taken the hint yet? I want to see “eye to eye” on this.

We are quiet in Eeylops with all the hooting in the otherwise silent shop, and distracted in the Apothecary. Sirius buys a few potion ingredients. As I remember he wasn't half bad in classes as a student. When he tried. Sometimes when he didn't try. The strings of fangs in his hand have a dull sheen. These particular fangs should be more luminescent and I tell Sirius so. He ends up buying some Gingko Biloba an antidepressant herb and a jar of St John's Wort. Am I that depressing? He has his reasons, after years in Azkaban, and being shut away and then presumed dead.

“I hope that really was an offer to teach me Occlumency,” Sirius says as we leave the Apothecary. “I know that's what you meant. And Legilimency?”

“Of course not. No one treads the paths of my synapses. But if you are willing I will tread yours. And teach you to block the forays I or others make in your neural pathways.” I smile grimly. This should be interesting, now that he has mentioned it.

I pause.

“Step one is to calm yourself. Empty yourself of emotion, learn discipline of your mind. I assume you know this much from your term in...”

“Azkaban, yes. And I really hope you don't mean to visit it in my mind. I may surprise you.” Sirius looks both haunted and smug. How does he manage that?

I ignore him, but not really. I'm taking note of his strengths and his weaknesses.

“You need even more aptitude. It requires practise. For instance, listen to your heartbeat, it focuses you, and no need to worry, because if it stops you're dead anyway.” It was how I started when I learned.

Sirius chortles.

I stop near Knockturn Alley and ask Sirius to hold a paperback in his hand. He does so, looking amused.

“Do you control your heartbeat? Do you think you have control over the book falling to the ground?”I ask, waiting for a millisecond for him to think and then...

WHAP! I knock the book out of Sirius hand and the book flops on the wet cobblestones. I duck and pick it up, slightly damp in my fingers.

“I thought not,” I sneer. Sirius blinks, then recovers almost immediately.

“I had a suspicion...when you asked...” Sirius says.

“Suspicion is not control...but it helps.” I smirk.

“Why would it help with me? I'm not your antagonist, I want to learn, and I trust you. I'm not hiding anything, so you probably find it works differently on me. But you're the expert.” Sirius shrugs.

“I am not teaching an adversary...that is true. But ask yourself how much you want me in the interior of your mind.”

“I had my mind made up the moment you offered,” he says immediately. I wonder if he planned this response.

“We'll see, later. For now, let's just skulk down Knockturn Alley.”

“You're on,” Sirius says, nodding his shaggy head and we slip into the grey alley where so much has been done, taught, sold, bought, concealed and conceived. No one has spotted us entering, and no one here wants to be caught looking. Not at the Dark Headmaster and his controversial staff appointment companion, who they don't really connect with me.

The weak-minded, anyways.

Before we go, however, I point to the robe shop, the one my mother worked part-time in, Twilfitt and Tattings. “I hate to interrupt the fun bit, but I do need to go in here before we go into Knockturn Alley proper.”

So the next stop is Twilfitt and Tattings, where I always buy my robes. They're the only seamstresses who have enough sense to make robes with wand pockets that are very easily accessible. That and they know me. Sirius is feeling fabrics flow over and between his long fingers.

He makes no comment as I am measured and pinned, and the robes will be sent to the Headmaster's office. Sirius buys some existing dress robes that are easily altered, and I note the breadth of his shoulders. He's rather small in the waist. He has narrow hips too. Same build as me, only broader in the shoulder. He takes the Prussian blue robes in their fitted casing, and folds them over one arm. All those books. If he buys anything in Borgin and Burkes he'll tip over from overload.

Down into the alley through the small knots of people and the longer deserted stretches, past shops selling artifacts from raids, artifacts from fires, artifacts that had their origin right there. Past a filthy pub – why does the Dark Arts attract such places? - and into a seedy second-hand bookshop. In the showcase is a black velvet hand holding a copy of “Disguises for the Disgruntled.”

More bookshelves, more books, and though I spent every cent of the gift certificate for Andromeda, I buy two more books. The text from Sirius' library, Possession and Reanimation and another copy of The Occluded Mind, which is at home in the other obscure volumes. So few people use it. They say too soon old, too late smart. Too soon a fool, too late concealed, I think. I have been in training not to trust for at least twenty-five years. Perhaps that is its own foolishness.

Sirius keeps to his business. Due to the nature of the establishment and our purchases, we do not look to see what each other has bought. We exit and walk up the cold grey stone with large, grimy windows and wilted hands, collarbones, and cursed and jinxed who-knows-what. I want to know what, my curiosity is piqued before we even enter Borgin and Burkes.

There is a tinkling of a bell as we open the front door of the ancient establishment. Young Burke and elderly, stooping Borgin look around from their Prophet-gazing. Newspaper reading. I've never met the granddaughter of Caractacus Burke, but I'm told she has blazing red hair and hazel eyes. Belinda is her name. But she is not a dead ringer for Lily, would that she were for her sake. She has the stature and build and all the looks of Dolores Umbridge.

Sirius walks over to her first. They seem to know each other. Sirius makes some enquiry while I look at the display items. A deck of playing cards black as soot that gleams like opals. A sign before it reads: 'Cursed'. No doubt, but I would like to know how. Beside it are two other items. One is a pair of white kid gloves with a strong Attachment Jinx. It will bring what the seeker needs. Cost? Only three thousand Galleons. Not really dark at first thought but then... I look at the last object. A dog's skull. I wince. I dislike animal remains being used for such purchases. The sign: Hound's Head. Train your pet using a low-level set of jinxes activated by touching the skull. Price...I turn away with a grimace.

Borgin is right beside me now. “Very pleasant to see you, Headmaster.”

I bring out my box of Dark artifacts and he says, “For sale?”

“For trade, and perhaps a small profit as well.” I smile coldly at him, and his manner is slippery as Mundungus Fletcher's armpit.

“What would you wish to purchase, Headmaster?” We start to haggle immediately. We throw a few questions each other about the items for sale. And the card deck- what did it do?

“Nothing like Divination. I'll give you a thousand for the Dark Detectors, I remember them well. Still carrying the same curses I see, but we're down the Foe-Glass.”'

“I tamed the Foe-Glass.” I say this very softly. Sirius isn't staring, nor is Belinda Burke. They're still caught up in conversation.

“Very gooood,” Borgin says in his none-too-pleased tone, equally softly. “How did you manage..”

I strum my fingers on the counter. “Can we get back to the card deck?”I snap.

“Of course, Headmaster. It forces whoever touches it to produce a curse, not an Unforgivable but a curse of moderate strength and which they have no idea how to work. Perhaps you can tame this as well.”

Shrewd man, Borgin. He knows I enjoy making things simple where there is complexity and thing complex where there is simplicity. “I'd say the wasting watch and the Dark Detectors cover it. The hand-eating textbook and cursed wand I'll take store credit.”

“Very well,” he says in that slick voice. He scratches his quill on parchment, and hands me a slip of parchment with the store credit and his initials. I read it and then slip it into my box, along with the deck of cards carefully wrapped in black fabric. All that is left of my Death Eater robes.

Sirius appears beside me holding his many packages. I have many but my load is lighter. He doesn't appear to have bought anything, but Blacks are not as innocent as they seem. Ever.

“Ready to go?” I ask.

“Yes,” I say. We walk together, seemingly apart, back to the mouth of Diagon Alley. There is still the occasional outbreak of hissing from a Gryffindor or other who simply cannot help themselves. Slytherin house would have a lot to teach them. And so could Sirius Black.

“We're off to Hogwarts,” I say. I find myself echoing a child of eleven speaking, telling Lily that we're really going. “But separately, of course.”

“Of course,” Sirius echoes and I watch him enter the short queue for the Floo Network. When I see him next, he really will be under my employ. “See you on Saturday, Sev,” he calls before entering the emerald green flames.

Snacks And Letters - Part 83

Sat, 14 Jan 2012 16:52:12 GMT

Author: sionna_raven
Title: Snacks and Letters - Part 83
Word Count: 3911

I've got a crammed schedule today, meeting the Minister at ten and later a shopping spree with Sev. After he left last night I've checked the book list again. All the standard volumes seem to have been updated after the war. The parents must have been delighted. I probably should get the full line of Standard Book of Spells to see what level of skills I can take for granted with the students. I'd better not take anything for granted from what Ginny told me about her 7^th year. Their last decent teacher must have been Severus one year before the war and Neville Longbottom with his resistance group. Their only decent teachers perhaps. Amycus Carrow preferred the practical approach. Show, don't tell, to put it mildly. In '98 they brought in three retired Aurors - not as crazy as Alastor - who took turns every other week and couldn't agree on a basic syllabus. Severus kept one of them, when he took over again in '99 and replaced him for this year with the one he sacked in autumn. Perhaps I should just improvise. Find out what they know and fill in what they need to know. Time will tell. Now on to the business at hand.

It's still enough time to pay attention to the delicious breakfast Kreacher has prepared, before I floo to the Ministry.

“Are you going like this, Master?” Kreacher looks at the plain jeans and sweatshirt with severe disapproval.

Nanny elf or not, I'm old enough to choose my own clothes. I'm going to meet a friend and fellow Gryffindor who happens to be Minister.

“That was my intention, any objections? “

Kreacher grumbles with his back turned. How did he survive with the Weasleys?

I remind myself that we've done nothing wrong. Regulus deserved a proper funeral and so do the other poor victims of Voldemort's madness. I meant it that I'm ready to pay a fine for trespassing to be used to recover the bodies. The Ministry has the means to do it and in my opinion it is their responsibility to the dead and the living. No matter who those people were, they shouldn't be left rotting in the cave like this.

***

The Atrium at the Ministry of Magic has changed a lot. All new and shiny, the horrible slogans and the ugly statues in the fountain I've been told about have disappeared. The fountain is just that, a fountain. I remember Harry said they wanted to turn it in a statue of him. It took him a lot of effort to stop such a monstrosity. I'm glad he did. He can be a stubborn idiot in many ways, but he doesn't like this ridiculous hero-worship at all. Will they ever learn to think for themselves and not to rush into the service of the most powerful wizard who accepts them?

I report at the reception. “Sirius Black to see the Minister.”

The young witch on duty quickly hides a Witch Weekly under the desk .

“Minister Kingsley awaits you, Mr Black. Please take the lift to Level One.”

“Thank you, I know the way.” I smile back at her and she giggles.

There's a small crowd waiting in front of the lift. I say hello to the few I know from seeing them with Harry or Arthur. Their responses are friendly. Our little Christmas adventure is not common gossip, yet. Someone I can't place calls me Professor Black and a few eyes flick at me curiously. A wizard who I recognize as one of Harry's men frowns. The Aurors know. I don't care and leave at the next stop. I would have looked out off place had I followed Kreacher's advice. Many people wear Muggle clothes. In my mind I hear Regulus commenting about 'Muddleborns in charge'. Not quite, Percy Weasley is the Personal Assistant to the Minister of Magic or so it says on the polished bronze plate right in front of the ink stand on his desk. I'm glad he likes it.

“You're right in time, Sirius. The Minister has just finished the morning briefing.”

The door to Kingsley's office opens and a flock of wizards and witches pour out in lively discussions. Harry is talking to the witch who accompanied him to my house. Arthur explains something to Hermione. The three of them halt at my sight. Harry can't or won't meet my eyes and Hermione looks a bit like Kreacher did after I had done something to hurt Regulus or disgraced the family in his opinion. Arthur tries to get over the awkward moment with forced cheerfulness. He understands though he probably doesn't approve. The other people leave the outer-office and Kingsley clears his throat.

“Sirius, I'm afraid my time is short. We have a lot to discuss. Your friends will excuse us.”

I move to follow his invitation immediately, but Harry stops me.

“Are you going to drop by at my office before you leave?”, he says quietly.

“Of course. I won't leave without saying goodbye.” I put my hand on his shoulder. Please understand that I love you, I plead silently.

I walk into Kingsley's office while Harry, Arthur and Hermione leave.

“Coffee for me and tea for Professor Black.” Kingsley says and offers me a seat in one of the armchairs in the corner. We wait until Percy has put the tray on the small table between us and closed the door behind himself.

“Will I ever see the day when you are not stirring trouble, Black?”

How many times have I heard him say that?

“It's been a while since you were the Gryffindor Prefect, Shacklebolt.”

“Yes, I'm Minister now and entering that cave was not the same as breaking into the Quidditch locker room and sprinkling itching powder on the Slytherins' robes. ”

“I'm not thirteen any more and had a good reason to go there.”

“You always had a reason for your …. What do you call this now?”

“Family matters, “ I suggest.

Kingsley takes a sip of his coffee and watches me carefully, smirking.

“Which is probably supposed to explain that announcement in the Prophet and your little Death Eater tea party at Highgate. Was that really necessary?”

“It was perfectly legal. We checked the rules. Do you think I should have buried my brother hastily at dawn near the graveyard wall like he was an embarrassment?” I snap.

Kingsley shakes his head. He looks tired.

“You don't make my job easier with public statements like this. Your family has a certain reputation and many people interpreted it as a slap in the face of the Ministry. They expect me to enforce the law. We won't further investigate how you came by the information. This is between you and your godson.”

“So what are you going to do? Put me to trial for …. trespassing? Violation of graves?”

Kingsley grins broadly.

“Maybe I should. “ He twinkles. “But I've seen enough of your family lawyers during the last two years. The Boruks are really nasty chaps and old Ladkill in court.... When Boruk informed us about the funeral he hinted that they might still investigate the chances to sue the Ministry for twelve years of unlawful imprisonment.”

“They are good at their job.” I laugh. “I think they are really disappointed to miss out on their share of the compensation. I take it we agree to settle the matter amicably. Do you think the Ministry would kindly allow me to pay for the expenses of the recovery operation in my brother's name? ”

“The Ministry won't refuse any support given in good faith and the honest wish to help.”

“Just to make it clear; that goes for Severus' involvement, too!”

“Severus' involvement, yes. I still wonder how you made him sign the announcement and help you with your plans?”

I can't help smiling.

“ He was Regulus' friend. You are the first to suggest that I've made Severus do those things... which is the truth. It was my idea and my responsibility. If certain people don't stop accusing and harassing him, there will be more public statements and they'll find it hard to silence me without violating their own new laws.”

“Stop growling, Padfoot.” Kingsley looks more amused than angry about my threat. “I only wanted to hear it from you that you are not trying to get Severus into trouble. He has helped us more than the public knows, more than he wants the public to know. The boys still have to learn that goodness and kindness are not the same. Severus' tasks during the war weren't of a kind that people like to acknowledge. Now tell me about the cave. What exactly do we have to expect?”

“I suppose Harry has already told you a bit. Caradoc volunteered to stay behind as a ghost after the Inferi curse dissolved. He wants the dead to be returned to their families and properly buried. He has powers surpassing those of a normal ghost, drawn from the magic in the cave. I'm pretty sure he can leave the cave and if he gets impatient, he will. He's very focused on fulfilling his task and we had a hard time to convince him that we couldn't possibly act at once. ”

“I can hear the slight reproach in your voice. You think we should have taken care of the situation before, don't you? After the war our priority was with the living. I admit we forgot about the dead. Not to mention that we really weren't sure, if it was safe to enter the cave.”

“I understand that. I really do. But now that you know... it's time to act. The cave is safe as far as I can tell. If you don't trust my judgement, Severus has checked it thoroughly. However it is not a nice place. There are hundreds of bodies in different states of decay. Some have been washed ashore, bones scattered, but I'm sure there are many more still at the bottom of the lake. Voldemort seems to have stored his victims there for a long time, long before the first war. We have always suspected him to recruit an army of Inferi. That cave must have been the place where he kept them. I assume he even stole dead bodies from their graves to use them. The sheer number we saw is far greater than the number of people who went missing during the war. It's a terrible mess.”

“You are trying to tell me that we can't just sent a team in stealth to gather the remains. It will take some more effort, days probably and informing the Muggle authorities...?”

“Yes, that's what I expect. You said you cared for the living first. It has much to do with the living. It will give them answers, a resolution and they will have a body to bury, a place to go. It's as important to the living as it is to the dead.”

Kingsley nods thoughtfully.

“Tell me about Caradoc. How did he die?”

“He said he got into an ambush. He hasn't given much detail. Maybe you want to talk to him in private, before the recovery team starts its work?”

I pause for a moment. It's better to address the issue now than let Caradoc repeat his accusation against Severus in front of a dozen Ministry employees. Kingsley looks at me expectantly. I suppose he can guess what I'm going to say.

“They brought him in, tortured and killed him at a gathering of Death Eaters .... Severus was there.”

“He wasn't the one who killed him or ....,” I add hastily. “Caradoc hasn't accused him of anything like that, but.... He was there, watching and he didn't try to save him. You know he was already working for the Order at the time. He couldn't have done anything. He simply couldn't! If he tried, he had been killed, too and nothing had been gained.”

The silence which fills the room after my words, my plea, is heavy. Kingsley and Caradoc were friends, almost as close as James and I. Kingsley has spoken of Severus with respect. He doesn't want to get him into trouble. He has been an Auror. He has seen many people die, friends and colleagues. He knows that sometimes you can't do anything. He must know.

After a few minutes which looked like ages to me, Kingsley speaks.

“This should stay between the three, the four of us. It only breeds new resentment, if it gets out to the public. I'm not unreasonable, neither was Caradoc.” He takes another minute to think. “I've got to take a look at the cave myself and I want to talk to Caradoc's ghost. I want you and Severus to come with me. What do think? Can we arrange it early next week, Monday or Tuesday? Will Caradoc wait this long?”

“I think he will. He was a bit upset in the spur of the moment, seeing someone who he thought is a Death Eater and at my refusal to get all the corpses out immediately. He let us leave in the end, so yes, I think he will wait a few more days.”

“All right, then I check my appointments for next week with Percy and owl you about the time.”

I feel relief that we could settle it.

“Is there anything else? I'm meeting Severus at the Leaky Cauldron at noon. I need to buy 'schoolbooks'.“

“There is indeed something else you should take care of. Harry said that you probably intend to keep your elf Kreacher?”

“I don't think I have a say in this. Kreacher has made his decision and I won't risk his renewed goodwill. I doubt that I have a chance to get rid of him ever again.”

“ You'd better not try. Elves can be tricky. I suggest you spare a few minutes and drop in at the house elves department and get a license today.”

“Get what? Kreacher and his ancestors before him have been in the family for centuries and now I need a Ministry license to keep him?”

He must be kidding. Kingsley is shaking with laughter.

“Elf rights decree number 47 from July 24^th 1998. All owners of magically enslaved beings have to pass a test on their general knowledge about how to care for their slaves' needs and prove that they have read and are willing to obey the rules of the House Elf Protection Act.”

“Hermione Weasley?” I sigh.

Kingsley is still chuckling.

“Yes, Hermione Weasley. Count yourself lucky that the first version of the decree has been altered after two weeks. The original version required the elf itself to give testimony about its owner's decent behaviour in front of a commission. My own grandmother's elf was among those who spent several days at St Mungo's in severe shock at the insinuation that they would even think of speaking ill of their families. Hermione at last saw reason when one elf nearly killed itself on being questioned.”

“Muddleborns.” I mutter.

“Pardon?”

“It's a term Regulus coined as a boy. It means that Muggle-born witches and wizards often don't get the point.”

“Don't let Hermione hear that. She meant well.”

“I know, but she should talk to the people whose lives she is going to improve first.”

“Bread on Brooms.” Kingsley says, smirking. “Arthur told me.”

I smirk, too.

“All right, I'm going to take the test to get the license. I hope I don't need to know all of the rules by heart.”

“Don't worry, it's pretty basic. Just a formality.” Kingsley puts his empty cup on the table. “I think I've got to return to work.” He points at a pile of parchments on his desk. “Percy's daily reports.”

“I leave you to it and do my own paper work. Goodbye, Minister.”

“Bye, Sirius. Please behave yourself. I don't want to read reports on you.”

I wave at him through the open door and try to remember where the House Elf Department might be. I ask a wizard in front of the lift.

“Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, Level 4.”

I thank him and enter the lift. The corridor in the Creatures Department is long and filled with strange noises from many different offices. In an open door I can see the rear of a Centaur who is stomping with his hoofs to put emphasis to his cause. A Goblin hurries past me, stuffing some old files in his briefcase and muttering not so nice things about wand bearers. There it is, House Elf Relocation; Elf Rights Commission; Owner's Licences.

The witch behind the desk doesn't look up from her papers, when I step in front.

“Take a seat.”

I sit down on a chair.

“Full name and address? “

“Sirius Alphard Black, 12 Grimmauld Place, London.”

She's scribbling it down and stops, “How do you spell Ellfart?”

“A-L-P-H-A-R-D.”

“Is this your first application for an owner's licence?”

“Yes.”

“The elf's name?”

“Kreacher.”

“When did you inherit the elf?”

“In 1979 on my father's death, I suppose.”

“Mr Black, the deadline for registration of long-term enslavements has ended in January 1999. What did you think keeping the elf for so long without a licence?”

This is beginning to amuse me.

“I've been …. err.... abroad until very recently and only heard that I am required to get a licence today.”

She frowns.

“Your elf has been accompanying you on your travels?”

“No, he stayed with a friend here in Britain during my absence and only returned to me four days ago.”

“Name and address of that friend. I hope your friend has seen the necessity to acquire a license.”

“I haven't asked him, but yes, I think he is a law abiding citizen. His name is Harry James Potter, Hollyhock House, Godric's Hollow.”

The witch finally looks up. She obviously tries to figure out, whether this is true or I am taking the mickey out of her.

“You are.... Sirius Black?”

“That's what I've told you when you asked my name.”

“I'm sorry. You see people come here with all kinds of excuses and weird stories about why they couldn't take the test earlier and didn't treat their house elves as they should. Those old family purebloods can't accept that times have changed and they are no better than any of us.”

She stops abruptly. Remembering that I am an old family pureblood?

“No need to apologize,” I say smiling generously. “you are just doing your duty. Carry on with your questions. I'll answer them to the best of my knowledge.”

She hands me a booklet “Elf Protection Act, 26^th revised edition”.

“Are you familiar with the laws? Do you want to have a look at them first?”

“I think I've got the gist. I only missed out on the licence thing.”

She smiles encouragingly and starts reading from a form.

“Define your relation to your house elf.”

“He is part of the family like his ancestors have been for centuries.”

She raises her eyebrows in astonishment. I hold her gaze.

“Summarize the 1rst Article of the Elf Protection Act in your own words.”

“The owner of an elf has to provide for all needs of his slave, food, drink, non-clothing, medical care and a small place for it to get rest. An elf should not be wilfully mistreated or abused, punished without reason or made to punish itself beyond reasonable measures. An elf should not be killed or abandoned to die by its owner, when he becomes incapable to work due to old age, illness or injury.”

I'm not sure how I will explain the last rule to Kreacher, when the time comes. I hope it will be a long time until I have to face that decision.

The questions go on and on, testing my knowledge of laws I think are to be taken for granted within tradition. A second page contains 'what if' questions.

“What are you going to do, if your elf burns your toast?”

I can't help chuckling.

“That depends on the circumstances. If it really happened by accident, I will remind him that he is forbidden to punish himself without my permission. If it wasn't an accident, I will try to find out what I have done wrong.”

“Could you please answer the question seriously.”

“I am dead serious. If you knew my elf, you understood that it is not a good idea to get on his wrong side.”

There's more of the same nonsense for about three pages until finally....

“Would you ever consider to set your elf free?”

“That would be a severe violation of the 1rst Article.”

The witch sorts the pages and checks my answers again. She sometimes raises her eyebrows. I can only wait for her verdict.

“Some of your answer are a bit unusual, Mr. Black.”

“I'm sorry to hear that. Can you tell me where I've made mistakes.”

“Oh no, don't get me wrong. You have passed the test. Your licence will be owled to you within a few days.”

“You make me very happy. I've been a bit worried about what to tell Kreacher, if I failed.”

It's 11:40am, not much time to see Harry, but I can't just leave. He's at his desk, when I stick my head through the door.

“Hi Sirius, your meeting with Kingsley took a long time. Is everything fine?”

“Not that long, we reached an agreement. I have taken the test for the house elf owner's licence afterwards. “

“So you're really going to keep Kreacher?”

“It's more like he's going to keep me. Tell Ginny she can borrow him any time. I won't need much of his service at Hogwarts.”

“Ginny will be delighted. She's having her team mates over Thursday next week. Girls' night.”

“A house full of Harpies.”

“I'm planning to work late. What do you think of having lunch together at Wimpy? I could do with an Eskimo Waffle.”

“Sounds great, but I'm a bit in a hurry. Severus is waiting for me at Diagon Alley. I need new books.” Harry looks disappointed, so I quickly add. “What about a boys' night out on Thursday? School's only starting the following Monday. It may be my last night of freedom in a long time. Only the two of us?”

“If you talk to Ginny and promise her not to take me to dodgy places again.”

“I always had to promise that to your mother, to bring James back untouched and in a decent state. We usually managed.”

Harry has started to smile again. My task will be a lot easier with him than it was with James. James adored Lily, but he also loved to be the centre of attention.

“All right then, that's settled. We talk about it next week.”

“Sure, I'm looking forward to it. Now I have to run. Can't be late to a meeting with my new boss.”

I laugh when Harry pulls a face. Back to Grimmauld place and swap my jacket for a warmer coat. The house elves nonsense messed up my already tight schedule.

I'm ten minutes late to enter the Leaky Cauldron. Severus is sitting in a corner scowling.

“Kreacher should have given you the watch for Christmas.”

“Sorry Headmaster, I had to prove my ability to care for a house elf. Minister's order.”

Snacks and Letters - Part 82

Thu, 29 Dec 2011 08:17:55 GMT

Author: valkyriekat
Title: Snacks And Letters - Part 82
Word Count: 918
Rating: PG

~Severus~

I woke up in the Leaky Cauldron with a crick in my neck, having fallen asleep reading by the dim light of a lantern. I'll be meeting Sirius at noon. I spent half the night wondering whether Sirius picked up that slightly obscure offer to teach him Occlumency. I rub my sore neck, grimacing. I don't wish to teach him Legilimency, but it may be unavoidable. He may be just as adept as Harry at taking instruction – rash, emotional, unfocused. I think not. He can adapt very well. That we both are still alive and on speaking terms says a lot in itself.

Zara is on a perch by the window. The highly polished oak furniture is so foreign, I hate to touch it. Noon. He should be done with Kingsley by then. My cat is probably asleep laying on his side on my chair, snoozing on the grey fabric seat, in my office. My real office, not the Headmaster's lair. Too many prying eyes, helpful or otherwise. There are festive baubles over the bedstead. No matter where I go, Christmas cheer snickers at me.

If I had never have returned last night, gone back to 12 Grimmauld Place, I would be more myself. Why should I go against my own grain? He has no hold on me – or so I thought until I discussed the Dark Arts with him. Defence and the students and the curriculum being the excuse to see what each other think. I played the simpleton to see what he would make of normal hexes, unfriendly spells of the second or third degree. He wasn't deceived. Yes, I accused him. He knows me, damn it.

I made my points, until he brought out that hideous book of power's enchantments, the succubus of the Black family library. That I knew the book under the Dark Lord raised the hairs on the backs of my arms. I knew what I faced. Had I been unprepared, the whole thing may have turned into a very sour disaster. But that temptation held no real threat this time.

Sirius said he trusted me. He seemed to be drawn in, but was his a struggle for the bare edges of sanity? Mine once was. The “test” made one thing clear- I have moved on to other things. I am not the same man I was mere months ago. And the Black mutt is to blame for a lot of it. I don't like every change. I seem less inquisitive, more trusting, calmer and less likely to snarl at people. I don't cut down at every opportunity. Bollocks

We'll see how well this fares when ... if ... I teach Sirius Occlumency. I would teach Legilimency without a doubt but for my own self-preservation. I like my mind to be intact, not have some mangy hound getting glances into my mood and thoughts. I would trust a Gryffindor to view them wrongly. And no one else has ever truly done it, invaded my mind, not the Dark Lord, not Dumbledore. No one else. The exception is Potter. And then he invaded more privacy in the Pensieve. Sometimes I wish I could do as I threatened him at Hogwarts all those years ago. A little Veritaserum wouldn't go amiss, and a list of questions that would bite him most.

What am I going to have to deal with for the sake of friendship? Will Sirius be amenable to a trip down Knockturn Alley when we're finished in Diagon? An item or two for sale and books much nicer than Adventures in Hexing. I wouldn't mind my own copy of Possession and Reanimation which I didn't get to read properly last night, either. It makes the past less cumbersome, when it's remembered with understanding. I want to know yet more about Horcruxes because then the Dark Lord seems less talented, less threatening, and certainly less admirable in his use of them. I have studied this, but Hermione Weasley won't allow the books such as the Secrets of the Darkest Art she nicked out of her sight. I'd love to use Kreacher to get one, but I can't do it.

I make my way out of the room, down the shiny wooden hallway to the grubby bar and sit by myself at a table in the far left corner, watching. He won't be early. He must know to meet in the Leaky Cauldron, I told him where I'm staying. A barmaid comes to me, short and dark-haired and pretty. She must know not to serve alcohol at this hour. It's only seven am. I'm in for a long wait. I buy a Daily Prophet from the girl. I order bangers and mash with a side of fried tomatoes, and stare at the entrance.

I can see him now, casual and offhand, having done some impossible deal with Shacklebolt with apparent ease. Sirius always makes everything look easy and simple when he's not muttering darkly and scowling. I think I prefer the scowling Sirius. The other side can be too much to take, at times.

It will be a relief when I am back at work and have student idiocies to distract me, and staff woes. To judge by the meeting, they (on the whole) welcome Sirius, and Minerva seems to accept things as they are. Slughorn will have told half of Hogwarts and all of Hogsmeade about our unusual friendship. Like Mum said: Grit your teeth and bear it, Severus.

Snacks and Letters - Part 81

Thu, 15 Dec 2011 15:06:40 GMT

Authors: sionna_raven and valkyriekat
Title: Snacks and Letters - Part 81
Word Count: 2850
Rating: PG 13

~Sirius~

I lower the parchment and announce to Regulus and Kreacher: “You may call me Professor Black from now on.”

“The hell I will. The Wizarding World must have come down to an all time low when someone like you is teaching the youth.” Regulus laughs.

“Given the fact that among my recent predecessors were illustrious names like Quirinius Quirrel, Gilderoy Lockhart, Dolores Umbridge and your mate Amycus Carrow, I guess Severus considers me a massive improvement.”

Regulus gasps. “You're kidding, aren't you? Who in his right mind would hire them?”

“Voldemort put a curse on the job. You surely remember that none stayed for more than a year even in our times. Dumbledore was running out off suitable candidates and Severus had to hire whom your master suggested during the last year of the war....But you wanted to see my Patronus. I feel like it right now. Expecto Patronum!”

A happy thought, there are two. I'm feeling very happy right now. I have a job that interests me and Severus is coming back. He said he wouldn't after our task is finished, but now he wrote he will be here for dinner.

“Kreacher, dinner for two! And I hope you've learned the headmaster's taste during your time at Hogwarts. Nothing too grand I suppose.” I need to remind him. In his eagerness to please he might be overdoing it. Kreacher disappears. The bear cub is still frolicking around the room. Regulus watches it.

“Sirius, when you leave for Hogwarts... are you going to take me? I mean are you going to take this portrait with you? I don't want to be left alone in this house again.”

“Of course I'm going to take you. I wish I could have taken you with me for real when I left for the first time. I've never wanted to leave you behind. Your assistance is needed anyway. I'm sometimes at a loss with Sev. He still doesn't really trust me.”

“Sev doesn't really trust anyone. Nobody has ever given him a reason to trust. Get used to it is my advice. You can trust him. In your terms his bark is worse than his bite.”

“Hey little brother, you haven't earned the right to make dog jokes.”

Regulus smirks. I get serious again.

“He can trust me, too. I really like him. I will do my utmost to earn his trust and I swear I will never let him down.”

My last words feel solemn like a magic vow and I want them to be as binding. Regulus doesn't speak for a moment and when he speaks it's merely a whisper.

“The three of us together as friends, I always wanted it to be that way.”

I remember him saying that after his first year. I called him mental. I'm pretty sure Severus found more eloquent words, if he mentioned it to him. “Not before hell freezes and our world is turned upside down.” I've come to the conclusion that hell is the coldest place on earth.

Kreacher hurries into the room again, carrying a second letter. Kingsley expects me at his office tomorrow morning at 10. The letter doesn't give any hints about his opinion on the matter. He'll come round, when I tell him about Caradoc.

~Severus~

I am covered with raindrops. Drenched, actually. I walked from an alley one street away. Sopping robes. I'll dry them when I feel like it. I come up the stairs at Number 12. Sirius left the door unlocked. I have the spell to make the lock and chains fall open, anyway. I wonder if he left it open for me but no, why would he? Friendly idiocy has never been the Black way. If it was, I wouldn't be back here.

I hear movement in the sitting room, and sense someone or something is nearby. I narrow my eyes and look, drawing back into the shadows. Kreacher is at a window, his papery-skinned arm out for an incoming owl. I whisk to the door of the sitting room.

“He can trust me. I really like him. I will do my utmost to earn his trust and I swear I will never let him down.”

This is Sirius Black? Perhaps speaking to Regulus? If that's me he's talking about I will pretend not to have heard until some slip occurs, then I will shove his well meant but certainly false words. He doesn't feel they are false perhaps. But they always are, with everyone else.

I hear whispering, indistinct, and draw back into the shadow as Kreacher comes down the hall bearing a letter. I walk back downstairs, quietly and quickly, and hear the door of the sitting room open. I make a mild racket with the locks, ensuring that someone notices me.

Sirius charges into the hallway and says, “Kreacher will have dinner ready in a jiffy, I told him to surprise us. Yes, I told him nothing fancy. Hang up that cloak, you're soaked through with the chill rain!” He's holding a corner of a door with his hand, striking an imposing image. I wince. I can't stop the association with that body language of his teenage years.

“I hadn't noticed. I'll have to keep a watch on you as a Professor. I do not hire idiotic people who state the self-evident, whatever their wishes. That must be why I am here. I can't trust that Sirius Black will do as I wish.” I don't mean the last sentence but I'm so irritated it gets through my verbal defences.

Dinner is a very stifled affair, but at last Sirius relaxes as he picks up a book. “You'd like our family collection. You must have read a few when you came here to be with Regulus. Would you care to inspect the library?” Sirius asks, and he's smiling as Kreacher takes away the leftover bits of pork chops, roast potatoes and overcooked vegetables. I nod at the elf encouragingly and he does the dishes at double speed. Did I glare at him? But the library.

“How it could have passed notice before now I don't know. I've seen enough to know I could get lost there.” That's my remark. My true partner in this world might just be a book. Slight sarcasm and no one to share it with, it would bring up too many very awkward questions. I am eager to see the books and stand to show it. Sirius laughs at my apparent enthusiasm. He's pleased but I'm afraid I showed too much there. No use second-guessing myself more than usual.

I leave the kitchen and the carpets on the stairs are no longer worn. Kreacher must have restored them. They were depressingly bald and worn. Now they are back to being a rich deep and dark green, more Slytherin than emerald ones. Understated but speaking volumes. I really do have affection for that elf. But the books. I look at Sirius as we reach the library door. “You may lead on, Professor Black. But I know enough of the system of this library to find my favourite books straight away. They're by subject, then author, then date. Regulus did show me enough that I find...”

I reach up into an upper row, slightly to the left. “Adventures in Hexing.” I read aloud. “Simple and very powerful, and effective. My first book on the Dark Arts. Must have been knee high to a Kneazle when I first read it.” Sirius looks amused. He reaches his arm into the row farthest from mine.

~Sirius~

Severus considers that Dark Arts? I suppose we both knew it's content by heart before we came to Hogwarts. I smirk as I pass him my choice, “100 Curses for the Initiated”.

He frowns and looks at the first page.

“You're kidding, aren't you? This is a Muggle book. None of the spells works.”

“It's darker than the hexes from your book. Just reading it makes you sick. My father bought it to show us what Muggles are like. He couldn't convince Reggie that anyone would really want follow the instructions. Why in Merlin's name should anyone kill a black cat and bath in its blood to call up a murderous demon?”

“ 'Adventures in Hexing' is not dark enough for you? No probably not, you and Potter cast those curses on everyone during our first years and noble Gryffindors wouldn't use Dark Arts.”

“I don't say they are nice. 'Adventures' is about combat spells. What are you trying to prove? That James and I used nasty spells? We did and so did you. We're not talking Ministry nonsense here, are we?”

“You used those curses and that makes them acceptable. Where's the limit for you? Use of human body parts? Deadly curses? The Unforgivables? I need to know what you intend to teach or more precisely what you refuse to teach, because you have been so adamant about not teaching the Dark Arts.”

“The subject is Defence against the Dark Arts. The only Unforgivable which can be directly countered is the Imperius Curse. I'm willing to show it to NEWT students, if you insist. However I think one either has the strength to resist it or not. Better not get hit by it. The same with the Cruciatus Curse. Block it, dodge it or pray that the caster stops before you go mad. So my answer to what I intend to teach is duelling skills, detection spells and protective wards. For the early years how to avoid Dark Creatures, recognise them and how to deal with them, if you can't avoid them. What is the point in showing them real Dark Arts as you and I have seen? The fear will make them even more susceptible.”

“What does that mean in practise? The Wendelin the Weird approach? Enjoy the tickle of a Freezing Charm to quench Fiendfyre?”

“What are the chances that a random Hogwarts student is attacked with Fiendfyre, Sev,” He smirks. I don't give him time to remind me of Mr Crabbe. “...after what happened to the last one who tried? Just for my information are you trying to make a reasonable point about my teaching schedule or do you want to pick a fight? In the first case get to the point, in the latter... Ready when you are!”

~Severus~

“You stupid mutt, ready to fight, ever the reckless Gryffindor. Your spirit makes me groan. I think the students are allowed to have knowledge and seek knowledge. I do not think they have the right to be taught exactly how it works, more the existence of Dark Magic, combative or otherwise.” I pause before speaking again.

“You tell me what you think should be taught? It is my syllabus and I will make the final decision. You make me regret my decision on whether to hire you or not. Certain advanced Dark Magic needs to be shown and only a little completely concealed.”

I pick up Possession and Reanimation and flick through it. It mentions Horcruxes. I place it back on the shelf. “The students need to know the subject. It is how they are armed. Dumbledore refused to let me teach my DADA students Occlumency and Legilimency. Considered them too Dark for anyone but precious Harry. And lower your expectations of me getting along with Potter, I never shall.”

“He considered those Dark Arts?” Sirius looks a bit sceptical. He ignores the Harry comment, and I wonder how his feelings for the boy, now a man, will affect my future dealings. But I am surrounded by books, not to be distracted.

“They have been considered such for ages. Occlumency is seen as darker, as no one can tell whether one is an agent of division or chaos or not. No one can force one to reveal the mind behind the mind. Legilimency is less subtle but no less fascinating, penetration of mental defence can have many layers. One can be driven mad merely by wielding such a spell wrongly or falling prey to it, as readily as with the Cruciatus Curse. But you know what they are.”

“You don't use it that way.” Is there a small question mark to Sirius' statement?

“Of course not.” I tut impatiently. “The students need arming against it, they need to be shown what it is like. And not just those grey areas, those morally ambiguous spells. What the Darkest Arts are. They need to be told of the real thing,” I growl.

~Sirius~

“All right, you want to see the real thing?”

I call for a large leather-bound volume from the topmost shelf. It glows in an ugly green when I move it to a small table. Severus moves closer, but he knows better than to touch it with bare hands. His eyes search the room for something. The dragonhide gloves are in a chest of drawers. I summon them.

“This is not an original, is it?”

“No, it's an early copy. Not even my family was mad enough to have an original in a house they want to live in.”

“The Dark Lord owned one. It has a power in itself. It seems to...”

“Call you? Whisper to you to open it? Yes, it does.”

Severus looks at me. I can see he wants to try. Regulus said I can trust him. “No more a Dark Wizard than you are.” I can hear the book whisper, promising power beyond compare.

“Feel free to have a look...” Maybe I am a reckless idiot.

Severus slowly moves his hand over the cover. I know what he must feel. If he still craves the power the book offers I'm in deep trouble. He opens the first chapter. The illustration shows a wizard, tall and strong, figures crawl on their bellies at his feet. They bring gifts to please their master.

Severus inspects the drawing carefully. His eyes move over the first lines of the incantation. The book whispers for me to speak the words before he does, to show him my power, make him submit. My fingers clench my wand. I breathe deeply, when Severus finally slams it shut.

We both need a few minutes to recover.

“Have I passed your test?” Severus says hoarsely.

“It wasn't a test. If I had any doubt that you can close it, I'd kept it hidden. This is what I call Dark Arts. Do you really think I should show this to the students?”

~Severus~

“Perhaps not.” I say, still panting slightly. One of life's more disturbing moments. “Show them? No. Perhaps you have made a point. A very specific point. As far as generalities go I think we are in agreement.”

“Are you saying I'm right?”

“Let us say I'm not negating everything you said, that we concur on most of the issues discussed, that I trust you to teach the subject with occasional remarks, however they appear, by the person who designed the curriculum.”

“Say it straight.” Sirius is grinning. I should not use doublespeak.

“You're fine to teach so long as I have a hand in it.”

“Thank you, Headmaster.” Irony. I like it.

“A useful enough jaunt in the library. I will have to come back here.” I pick my cloak off from the armchair. Kreacher must have brought it. I swing it around my shoulder. “I'll meet you in Diagon Alley, at noon. We have books to buy and I certainly want to spend the Christmas voucher Andromeda gave me to Flourish and Blotts.” My cloak is now completely dry but my lower legs and shoulders are still damp. I got drawn in, hadn't noticed that I was still spattered with rain. I dry my cloak quickly and hot steam rises. Sirius smiles strangely and says, “You'll just get wet again.”

“This time I am spending the night at The Leaky Cauldron. I can Floo. I can stay using the staff budget. After all, I am on Hogwarts business.” I look at Sirius and he seems no more than a tall teen, making idle comments. But this is adult Sirius, joking playfully, wagging his internal tail. He's not conventionally nice, but he has his ragged charm. Much better than being hit by friendly fire.

Sirius leads the way to the sitting room and nods curtly to let me know it's okay with him that I go. That he should care what I think of him unnerves me, and irritates me. I nervously scatter the shimmering powder into the flames and step into the flickering green fire. I am surrounded by thoughts of the glowing book, the power of the Dark Arts, and passing Sirius' test. No matter what he says it was a test. For me at least.

Snacks And Letters - Part 80

Sat, 12 Nov 2011 10:44:04 GMT

Author: valkyriekat
Title: Snacks and Letters - Part 80
Word Count: 581

Headmaster's Office,
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Sirius Black – Eyes only

12 Grimmauld Place

The funeral is over, but my – our - associates don't seem to know about it, thank Salazar. They could simply not understand. They cannot help but be slightly disturbed at the choice I've made for DADA professor, knowing our history. I'm sure we have enough enmity left to please their expectations from time to time.

I simply stated and restated the truth of the matter: you are highly qualified for the position, having personally outwitted the Dark Arts. They simply looked at me as if I were a singing zebra. I should not be able to see past my overlarge nose, so sniped Longbottom. I taught him well. He is pleased with the decision but doesn't trust my motives. Slughorn tried to naysay him but kept curling up like a leaf in a high wind.

I will tell you who you are working with:

Minerva McGonagall, for the short term, Transfiguration (Gryffindor) Very pleased to have you, is one person who can see us being amicable.

Neville Longbottom, Head of Gryffindor, Herbology. Bluntly refuses to see that I would adopt you as a candidate without ulterior motives. Pfft. I haven't ousted him yet have I?

Rubeus Hagrid, Care of Magical Creatures (Gryffindor) “Whaddya thinking bringing Sirius in? He's been though enough, Snape, and you not likin' him...”

Yourself, Defence against the Dark Arts (See how many Gryffindors?)

Horace Slughorn, Head of Slytherin, Potions. He's intrigued as you know. He finds the whole thing amusing and looks to see how he can benefit personally.

Zacharias Smith, Muggle Studies. (Hufflepuff) He sneered so well I thought I'd set him as an honorary Slytherin.

Sybill Trelawney, Divination (Squib? No, a Hufflepuff) She predicted your imminent demise if you were to join the staff. I reminded her that she is slightly late in her calculations. She smells like a sherry mill. I will eject her soon. Splitting classes with Firenze, who is at the very least not a fraud. He said simply, “yes.”

Aurora Sinistra, Astronomy (Ravenclaw) Agrees with me that you are the best candidate, “Did Potter put Black up to applying?” I snort.

Terry Boot, Charms, (Head of Ravenclaw) “Why Black? Why not put Neville in as DADA and get Sprout back? Bit of a big head from what I hear.”

Septima Vector, Arithmancy (Slytherin) She says, I must have my reasons, there is usually a reason for subterfuge such as this. I thought she was quoting my brain.

Bathsheba Babbling. Ancient Runes, Head of Hufflepuff, just shrugged and said “Whatever pleases you, Headmaster.”

The Head Boy is a Ravenclaw, the Head Girl a Slytherin. You'll find out. (Don't ask me to remember everyone's names, I can see names but never faces or other associations with people. Even as a spy I had a hard time with it. As me a question on some bizarre theory or the date of a magical discovery or rare potion ingredients. Not people.)

I will be returning to Grimmauld Place shortly after the meeting. I expect I can be there by 19:30 at the latest. I need to check on the book situation at Spinners' End, what to do with the accumulated magic of centuries. Perhaps they would suit the many bookcases laden with ugly stone busts of half-gargoyles, I mean, our relatives? The books themselves would be happier in an all-magical household.

Yours

Severus

Snacks And Letters - Part 79

Fri, 11 Nov 2011 22:26:45 GMT

Author: sionna_raven
Title: Snacks And Letters - Part 79
Word Count: 2020

~Sirius~

The three of us Apparate at the corner of Grimmauld Place. The three of us means Harry, Kreacher and me of course. I'm nervous as hell. Can I make Harry understand without hurting his feelings? I won't give in. I can't give in this time. I am who I am, a Black in Gryffindor. Love it or leave it. I will always love Harry, but I will not let him stand between me and the memory of my brother or between me and Severus. I will not try to meet his expectations against my own judgement.

Harry looks as stubborn and determined as I do. He reminds me so much of James right now that it hurts. He is not James! He is not responsible for my past mistakes........neither was James. I've made my own choices. Would James have rejected me, if I had not jumped on the Gryffindor band wagon and cut all ties to my family? I will never know. Will Harry reject me? We will see.

Harry walks to the kitchen. I'm glad he does. I don't need a portrait to make things even more difficult. Kreacher offers tea and the left-over biscuits. Harry absent-mindedly takes a stag. I wait for him to start with his accusations. I don't need to prove my innocence. Harry seems to have similar ideas and so we silently sit at the wooden table stubbornly nibbling our biscuits. Until Harry can't stand it anymore.

“Sirius, I don't know you anymore! What's wrong with you? You don't want to be with your friends anymore and prefer purebloods, Slytherins, Death Eaters and worst of all Snape.”

“All the same to you, isn't it? May I remind you that I am a pureblood wizard myself and a Black and excuse me for being a bit sensitive about being called a Death Eater or Dark Wizard. Last time I was called those things I woke up in Azkaban.”

“That's not what I meant. You know that.”

“Then you should say what you mean. Harry please, listen. You say you don't know me anymore. What makes you think you have ever known me? We've only met a few times under extreme circumstances. I tried to put up a brave face, but really I was a wreck. I've been drunk most of the time. In a way I welcomed Bella's curse to put an end to it.

When I escaped from Azkaban the only thing I wanted to do was to make up for all those lost years. I couldn't. The boy who had been pulling at Padfoot's ears and tail to get a ride on my back and had been throwing toy bricks at Peter Pettigrew the last times I saw him, suddenly was 5 feet tall and I had no idea who you were. It was too late to be the godfather I once wanted to be …. the godfather James wanted me to be ….. and I had no idea how to be the godfather you needed. I tried to meet your expectations instead and failed pathetically. You were the spitting image of James and I assumed you were.... I wanted you to be like him. You're not! It's all right. You're probably a much better man than we were at your age.”

“Sirius, I do understand. Take all the time you need to recover....”

I interrupt him impatiently. “That's what I'm trying to tell you. I have recovered. I have come to my senses. James died 20 years ago. I survived. Obviously we were not inseparable. I am alive and I want a life of my own.”

“I'm not stopping you. We're just worried. You seemed so happy when you came back and there's always a room for you at the Burrow or at my house. You don't need to spent your time with those Slytherins. “

“I certainly don't want to spent the rest of my days as a house guest at the Burrow or your cottage. I don't need someone to worry for me or look after me. I've always been able to look after myself. I'd like to spent time with people my age, people I have something in common with, people I like.”

I don't care that the tone of my last words does unnerve Harry.

“People you like means SNAPE? What kind of spell has he put on you?”

Turning dead serious again I reply quietly: “None! Can't you just stop making Severus responsible for everything you don't like or understand? This is the mindset of a 16 year old. Gryffindor good – Slytherin evil! Good Merlin, Harry! Severus is no more of a Dark Wizard than I am. At least that's what Regulus used to say and he knew both of us pretty well.

Close your mouth; you're lucky that there aren't any flies in December. I am NOT saying I am a Dark Wizard, but I've never had qualms about using … what does Hermione call them?.... not Ministry approved spells. Neither had James or Lily, we all used Severus' spells or improved potions occasionally. Never considered them too Dark. I guess my insolent brother tipped him off about a few of my discoveries, too. Let's say Severus and I were both very interested in.... Advanced Magic.”

Harry has stopped arguing. He crumbles a helpless Hippogriff in his fist. I feel like I should be more kind and patient, but the whole situation makes me more and more stubborn. Who does he think he is? My mum? 'Sirius, don't play with the wrong sort!'

No, this doesn't get me anywhere. Change of strategy.

“Harry?.......” I try to sound as kindly as possible and wait for him to look at me. “Harry, let's try to talk like adults. Do you really think I want to join an Ex-Death Eater Club or something and plot to overthrow the Ministry with Dark Magic?”

He shakes his head. “Nooo! But...”

“Good, I'm glad we've settled that, because I still believe in what we fought for and that blood shouldn't matter at all. Family does matter to me, though; my brother does matter to me. Severus helped me to bury him. We invited former Death Eaters and some other Slytherins, all people who knew him and cared for him. Excuse me for not wanting people there who never met him or have no idea who he was.

It was a question of respect to invite his friends not mine. Severus liked this gathering even less than I did.

Which leads me to my next question. Severus has been on our side since the first war. For his own reasons perhaps, but many of us had their own reasons. Without him your task had been a good deal more difficult. He's not exactly a fan of yours, but he's not the enemy. I enjoyed his company in the last few days despite the sad task we had to fulfill. I enjoyed our correspondence and I'm looking forward to teach at Hogwarts. Do you honestly believe that Severus intends to curse or poison me or tries to control my mind? Why should he?”

“I admit he's been a great help during the last war and Minerva wanted him as her successor when she retired to teaching only. Neville even says Snape's is a decent headmaster. He said he's fair.” I hide my smile behind the empty teacup. Harry is a good lad. He's just a little bit stubborn when Severus is concerned and overprotective about me. ”But with you it's different; it's personal. He believes you tried to feed him to a werewolf. You hated each other's guts for 30 years. ”

“Yes, we did, 25 years are more precise. What happened before our 5^th year was a bit different at least for me. We hated each other openly, couldn't get along for 5 minutes. Don't you remember everyone telling us to be civil for the Order's sake? We couldn't. We both couldn't even pretend to be indifferent. Nothing could make us act like we trusted each other, not our mutual aims, not the sheer necessity to work together, not even Dumbledore's orders or Molly's admonitions or Remus' pleas for peace. Severus had never said he believes what I told him about that night in the tunnel, if he didn't. We both don't use the word friendship lightly. If Severus intended to have his revenge by having me work for him at Hogwarts, he'd said so and dared me to accept anyway. I'm perfectly safe in in his company, safer perhaps than with anyone else who is nice and kind. I dare hope he gives me the same credit. Harry, I listen to your concerns when you can bring up reasonable evidence. I'll answer your questions as far as they respect my privacy. I will not report all my doings or conversations to the Head of Auror Office. I consider myself an adult man, able to make my own decisions, to choose my company to my liking. You're not my father. I'm neither a child nor insane. Can you respect that”

“You're twisting my words. I don't want to control you. I just don't want you to get hurt! I don't want to lose you again!”

“Oh Harry, you're not going to lose me. You can't be everyone's guardian and certainly not mine. I can take care of myself. Severus is no danger to me. I'm sorry that my attempts to get my life in order make you feel uncomfortable. I need room to breathe. I really don't want to hurt you. You don't need to support my decisions; just let me …. follow my own judgement. Think about it, discuss it with your friends, whatever you like.”

“You won't change your mind, will you?” I simply shake my head in reply. Harry continues. “Promise me to be careful, with Malfoy and those other guys. There's still more than one wizard on the street who doesn't believe in your innocence. Try not to provoke the Ministry too much. And absolutely no further adventures like your cave trip. Promise!”

I bite my lips not to say 'Yes Mum!' Instead I say: “I promise.”

I don't have another dead brother who needs recovering from a cave.

***

Harry has left after reminding me to make an appointment with Kingsley as soon as possible. He is a reasonable man and Caradoc was his friend. He'll see the necessity to deal with the bodies in an appropriate respectful way. I scribble a note to him asking to meet him tomorrow morning. I want it all over before I leave for Hogwarts.

Another task I'd rather avoided waits for me in the drawing room.

Regulus greets me with a rather exasperated “Is it over?”

“Yes, it is over. Everyone we invited has been there and it's been a decent ceremony you would have liked.” I reply, thinking that the last phrase is rubbish the moment I say it. Nobody would like his own funeral.

Regulus smirks. “That's not what I meant. Has Saint Potter given you his approval, when you begged his forgiveness?”

“I didn't beg for anything!” I don't think I can stand the same pointless discussion a second time. I don't need to. It's Regulus.

“You do care for the Potter boy, don't you?” Regulus smiles generously. “I may be willing to meet him again, if you give me your word he has more sense and better manners than his father.”

“He is less like James than he looks, I assure you. ...But James wasn't as bad as you think. No, really! He wasn't. Not worse than me.” I add sniggering.

“You're my brother. Brothers are supposed to be annoying.”

“Thank you for reminding me. I nearly forgot that.”

We're both laughing. Regulus gets serious again.

“Sirius? There's something else. Kreacher told me.... About your Patronus. I'd like to see it.”

“Getting sentimental, are we?”

“Only checking, if you got it right...”

Kreacher interrupts us carrying an owl. I'm a bit surprised that Kingsley replies so quickly, but then I recognize the owl. It's from Severus.

Snacks And Letters - Part 78

Mon, 31 Oct 2011 19:16:05 GMT

Author: valkyriekat
Title: Snacks And Letters - Part 78
Word Count: 721

~Severus~

“Don't let him harm your master,” I said sardonically to Kreacher before turning into the compression of Disapparition. I focus on the one destination constantly open to me, the one in the Headmaster's office. It's there and not my real office in the dungeons near my...preferred students that I concentrate on being. The Headmaster's office is barred to all but me. I have the only decent Apparition point in Hogwarts castle. Phineas is waiting.

“Professor Snape, the meeting. It begins in ten minutes in the staff room. Longbottom wanted to hold it here. Out of the question, the dolt.”

“Enough, Phineas.” I say, smirking. “I'll be gone for the duration, then will write a note to Sirius explaining the essentials. He must be Defence teacher. If they refuse me, I'll veto them using any method, if I have to dig into past law.”

“Spoken like a true friend and Slytherin.” Phineas says airily.

I half heard him. I stood on the spiral moving staircase, an obnoxious time-wasting device, and exit the office. I hurry along in a bit of a snit toward the staff room. Two female students who are staying for the holidays skirt me when they see my expression. Good.

Then I hear a last line from the girls now turning the corner. “...wash his hair.” Giggles. They just set me in an even more edgy mood.

I'm burying Regulus and exhuming Sirius. Odd thought. I continue to stride the hallways scattering students.

I bang open the office door and see the other Professors staring at me, all present. Minerva and Longbottom with their pride, Hagrid, slightly tipsy and Horace, who I notice looks very harried, Aurora and Terry, Sybill with sherry bottle in hand, and Zacharias who is giving me a look of dislike, what's new, Septima Vector, of Arithmancy and Bathsheba Babbling who taught me Ancient Runes. They all look extremely mistrusting, excepting Septima and Minerva. I sit down at the head of the table and watch eyes narrow as they look at me.

Dislike just trails after me like a loyal, wounded dog with gnawing jaws. And I just have to feed it.

I take out my papers and people shuffle theirs. “To the point!” Minerva says with a barely concealed tight-lipped smile, “Have you decided to hire Sirius Black to the position of Defence Against The Dark Arts teacher?”

Thank you, Minerva, for not beating around the bush. It begins.

***

Fifty-seven extremely lengthy minutes later it's over with. Sirius is Defence Master. The staff file out until no one is left but me and Minerva.

“I heard that you did a very decent thing, helping Sirius in getting back...” she begins. I love to interrupt her. And I have to.

“What you've heard about my decency is overrated and to be forgotten.” I glare at her. How did she find out? Never underestimate Gryffindor nosiness. Or overestimate Slughorn.

“I am writing a letter to Sirius to tell him what occurred, letting him sit on it, and returning to Spinner's End.” I try to mislead her. Minerva takes what she knows is bait and leaves. I'm only going for a few minutes. There's a book I want to peruse. Then to Grimmauld Place for a late dinner. My stomach is in knots thinking of returning to Sirius and letting him know that it is not only for Regulus' sake and that of prudence that I want him here.

I may have to read the whole Muggle book. A newer one of Tobias' that I should have read but considered too base Muggle. How To Win Friends And Influence People. Thinking of it I flush a mite. Dale Carnegie. I need help, Slytherin help, from a nearly mindless Muggle? The name stuck all of these years. The book likely will reveal nothing.

But for Sirius' sake I have to try. Friendship. Even to go as far as to read Dale Carnegie and see what it offers.

***

I learned nothing from the endless lists of personal propaganda. How hard I tried is too telling.

Sirius will have his letter by now. The sun went under early, or did I stare at the informative, miraculous book for that long? It is eight-thirty. Time to enter the fireplace of the sitting room of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place.

Snacks And Letters - Part 77

Tue, 25 Oct 2011 18:37:41 GMT

Author: sionna_raven
Title: Snacks And Letters - Part 77
Word Count: 1723

We grab our coats and stand in front of the high gate of the now officially disused cemetery in an instant. The Muggles use it as a park, a historic site nowadays, but on a Tuesday in late December there aren't many tourists walking the broad paths under the large leafless trees. Andromeda takes my arm and before Severus can any do anything against it she grabs him, too. Kreacher walks in the shadow of our long cloaks right behind us.

“I want to see the crypt, before the others arrive. Do you mind?”

Andromeda presses my arm in agreement. Severus doesn't object. He is lost in his own thoughts and tolerates my sentimental mood. I haven't visited my parents graves before. Why would I have done it? When? I had good reason to expect them to rise from the crypt and curse me.

A Muggle with his dog rushes past us. He glances at us with suspicion. Even in London and in broad daylight three people in long black cloaks do look odd on an old graveyard. I trust the goblins to have taken precautions that the Muggle police will ignore any reports.

There are many names on the huge stone monument, from Phineas' father who built the house at Grimmauld Square to the freshly carven name of my brother. Balthasar Black, Severus' ancestor is also buried here. Nearly 200 years of Blacks. To read the names of the two previous Sirius feels strange and reassuring at the same time, belonging somewhere without having to prove it. Almost nothing to prove, Marius Black, Phineas' Squib son is not buried in the main grave, but he's still close to the family and his small stone kept clean by the everlasting contract with the goblins.

I slowly approach the names of my parents. I feel the need to tell them that Regulus will join them today.

I didn't want anyone who doesn't really care for my brother to attend. The Malfoys, Flint and young Mr Nott understand. Horace Slughorn shows more backbone than I expected; he is here despite the suspicious company. He even takes care of Theodore Nott who was a bit lost when he arrived. He really reminds me of Severus as a boy, wary and calculated in his moves and words. I thank him for coming and he mutters a carefully phrased apology for his father's absence. Lucius looks respectable on the outside and glares at every single one of us. Even at Narcissa who immediately joined Andromeda and at Draco who can't decide whether he wants to stay with his class mate or should dare to approach Severus. He decides for Severus who is doing his best to keep Lucius and Flint apart. It doesn't prove too difficult during the service. Lucius is family and quickly manoeuvred to the front row between Narcissa and Andromeda.

After last night I feel more happiness than grief at my brother's funeral. He is back where he belongs with our parents and he's with me in my heart and mind, my bear guardian.

The service is short. It's a quiet gathering. Nobody feels like giving a speech. We all heard enough of heroes who gave their lives in the service of whichever master. They are dead and we miss them.

Kreacher whom we keep under a charm to distract Muggle eyes sobs at his master's tomb. He stands up rather abruptly and turns to Severus. I'm certainly not the only one feeling the urge to stop the elf for his own good. One has to be as mad as a house elf to hug Severus Snape – in public of all things. On the other hand Kreacher might go where I don't dare to tread. Showing gratitude for his help, for him being there when nobody else was. For still being here with me. Not just because of Regulus, I cling to that desperate hope.

Severus looks more than uncomfortable, yet he hasn't got the heart to push away the elf.

“.... greatest wizard... brave... loyal.... so grateful.... bringing my masters back home...” Kreacher's declarations are a bit incoherent, but I haven't missed that he used the plural form. I grin sheepishly and put my hand on Kreacher's shoulder.

“I think Master Severus got your point. It's enough; you're wetting his robes.”

I stretch out my own hand and Severus takes it. There's no need for words. We both press a little too strongly and I – we both – hold on a little too long.

Richard Flint takes his chance to approach me after we laid the coffin in the crypt. He is eager to find out about my real intentions. Severus said bottom of the Death Eater pecking order. Yes, that's clear, but he's not stupid. He tries to recommend himself by referring to his friendship with Uncle Alphard and doesn't mention my father. He does know that I stayed on good terms with my uncle and is unsure about my opinion on my father. I can't resist the temptation to confuse him and mention that I remember that he played chess with my father.

“You remember? You could only have been ...” He waves his hand about a yard above the ground.

“A bit more than that. Six or seven, I think. I do remember, because my father rarely had guests who were not family.” He blinks nervously. Lucius has overheard it and smirks. I can't hear what he says to Severus, but Severus frowns slightly and glares at me. I smile back. Oh c'mon, I've told you I've been raised to deal with these folks.

I turn my attention back to Flint who mutters something about Alphard's and Orion's kindness towards him and their generosity to overlook his inadequate lineage. Sixth generation pureblood, hardly better than half-blood in my mother's eyes.

“My father and uncle considered you a friend and my brother held you in high esteem. That's why you're here.” Condescending and arrogant as my words are he beams at me. Some people like being put in place, because it means they have one. Flint continues to blab about my father and about Regulus – noble, chivalrous, brave – insight much beyond his years, when older men were still caught in their erroneous ways. I ponder the irony of Gryffindor virtues used by one former Death Eater to describe another. I agree with him, though. I notice something else , a genuine warmth in his words, his face, a tear in his eyes. Yes, he's trying to flatter me, but his affection for Regulus is honest. After a while he feels reassured and thankfully says goodbye. That sets Severus free from the burden to watch Lucius. I'm about to join him, but Slughorn gets in my way, Nott still at his tails.

The same compliments for my dead brother, more cunningly phrased and the same genuine affection. He hasn't changed much since he tried to recruit me for his Slug Club and I refused every time. He never gave up. Now he seems happy to welcome me as a colleague, complains about the work load as a teacher and the poor pay. He asks me, if I will take the position of Head of Gryffindor. I'm baffled. It never occurred to me. Minerva has retired from all her duties except teaching Transfiguration at Severus' return. Neville Longbottom succeeded her. In my opinion Neville is the perfect choice, a Gryffindor like we should have been. It's the Headmaster's decision anyway and that's what I tell him. Slughorn beams at me.

“I was delighted to hear that you have finally settled your …. disagreement, m'boy. So delighted. I've always thought that it was just a misunderstanding caused by the unfortunate prejudice against Slytherin House. The two brightest boys of your year and wasting your talents fighting each other....“

There's a distinct snort from Severus and I snigger.

“Would you've preferred us to concentrate our combined efforts on a different target? I should think you had enough chances to appreciate our creativity.”

The old walrus quivers. Severus thinks it necessary to reassure him.

“Don't worry Horace. Black has signed a contract which forbids him to hex his Slytherin colleagues without the Headmaster's permission.”

Sluggy doesn't seem to be 100% sure that the Headmaster will refuse permission in his case.

“Have I signed such a restrictive clause?” I know I haven't.

“Of course you have. Forgot to read the magical fine print again, Gryffindor?”

“Boys, you really shouldn't scare your old teacher like that.” Draco and Nott whisper with each other in amusement about us being called 'boys' or about Sluggy being still nervous about my pranks.

Slughorn continues to calm himself down. “I've always said that Gryffindors and Slytherins should try to become friends. I had so many hopes for you and Lily Potter.”

Severus' face darkens. Slughorn is a bloody idiot. He realizes his mistake himself, when Severus coldly tells him that it's time to return to Hogwarts to prepare for the staff meeting.

Slughorn says goodbye and disapparates. The Malfoys follow his example. Draco has invited Nott to join them which he does. Andromeda gives me a hug, shakes hands with Sev and leaves us, too.

We linger on, not ready to part. I wish he would stay with me, but he is expected at the staff meeting. It's not for long I tell myself.

There's a human form approaching from another row of graves. For a split second I think it's James haunting me. It's Harry, of course. He stuffs his invisibility cloak into his pockets.

Severus frowns at him. “Potter, where's Weasley? What is so difficult to understand about 'family and friends only'?”

“Snape! You were about to leave. Don't let me keep you from your duties. Sirius, we need to talk.”

I put my hand on Severus' arm and try to look confident.

This talk was inevitable and I have to do it alone. Please don't make things worse.

“I'll be in touch as soon as possible.”

Severus gives me a slight nod of agreement. “See you later.” Before he Disapparates he turns to Kreacher. “Don't let anyone harm your master.”

Kreacher stands up straight. “Kreacher will always protect his master! He promised his mistress long ago.”

The look on Harry's face could have curdled fresh milk.

Snacks And Letters - Part 76

Sun, 16 Oct 2011 10:40:36 GMT

Authors: sionna_raven and valkyriekat
Title: Snacks And Letters Part 76
Word Count: 3104
Rating: PG 13

~Severus~

I wake up early but spend some time in my room, alone. I am not as full of dread as I was last night but I wonder at the situation Sirius has put himself – us – in. Harry Potter will have something to do with the funeral whether it's Auror business or not and I decide not to take part unless it is specifically requested of me. Potter is likely to provoke a reaction I really don't wish to witness. I muse on this as I pull off my nightshirt and get dressed, until my feet are clad in boots and my pressed black cotton robes are swathing me. I may be a thin person but despite that I can make a presence that commands respect. And I may need all of it to police this cosy little gathering, against my will or no, for Sirius' sake and respect for my memories of Regulus.

I hear no movement from Sirius' room through the service lift. I tidy my cuff. I rarely care if I look terribly presentable but today it is essential. Formal occasions are better than plain social occasions because they have a format one can operate in. It's much easier on the nerves.

I make my way downstairs looking carefully around for Sirius but no sign of him. Kreacher comes out of his place of vigil of Orion's study and hurries over.

“Master Sirius will arrive soon. What would Master like for breakfast?” he asks eagerly, but I notice his eyes are bloodshot. They haven't been this bloodshot for a while. Since I first arrived. But he seems happy enough, and doesn't notice me looking at him strangely.

“Rashers of bacon and eggs?” Kreacher prompts.

“Black coffee, and toast. That's all I can manage.” He peers at me and nods, blowing his nose on his new outfit. I guess old habits die hard. I feel no rancour today, but an eerie blank sadness. I suppose my normal temper will be back before long. I want to go see Regulus' body but something holds me back. It would be of no use to me or indeed anyone. But I think of what I would say as I accept the coffee from the slightly trembling elf.

The elf will have a harder time than anyone. But he will be happy the ritual is over with, that he will have respects paid to him. My hand shake a little so I make a fist of one, and grasp my coffee like a grenade with the other. Regulus Arcturus Black. A star that went supernova without anyone but an elf to tell the tale.

I say without words, I wish I could have made an Unbreakable Vow for you as I did Draco, you were no age to die and certainly more admirable than Draco or myself. I would have paid just as high a price and perhaps have had the decency to die when I should have. I hear the clock of boot-heels and they're not my own. Sirius is approaching. He looks worn, but somehow more present than he has been over the last few days. Something about him is different. My eyes scan him for oddities and I spot at once that he is wearing black, soft robes with a chain tucked down the front. Sirius has never worn a necklace. I decide to not mention it.

I start off the morning without pleasantries. I can't stand not to talk business when so much is whirring through my mind. “When did you say the goblins were coming?”

~Sirius~

Severus' business-like tone startles me for a moment. Maybe it's the best way to deal with today's proceedings. He has noticed the locket, before I've manage to push it under my robes. I feel relief that he doesn't ask about last night. I don't fully understand it myself.

Boruk hasn't given an exact time. I try to remember what it's been like in the past.

“Goblins? It's been a while, but I don't think there will be goblins. Not more than one, the rest will be men. They're going to arrange it according to the Statute of Secrecy. They'll come for the body around ten and take it to the funeral parlour to do all the necessary preparations, I suppose. We'll be meeting them at the chapel. Andromeda will probably be here before we leave.”

Severus is clutching his cup. Something to hold on to like the locket under my robes. Kreacher brings me toast and tea. I thank him. He seems to want to take me in his arms again, but thinks the better of it in Severus' presence. Instead he returns to the stove and starts dangling with a pan.

“No, Kreacher. Toast is all I need this morning. Have you eaten yourself? Come here sit down and have breakfast.”

Kreacher opens his mouth to protest and closes it without saying anything. Severus watches us with curiosity. A house elf asked to sit down with wizards? Why not? It seems fitting. The three of us were close to Regulus and we're in this together. There's no difference. Kreacher shivers and rocks on his feet.

“Oh c'mon, don't make such a fuss. You've sat beside me at this table plenty of times before.”

“Only to feed you your porridge, Master Sirius.”

Severus' mouth twitches slightly at the image.

“All right, then consider this your punishment for forcing me to eat porridge. I order you to sit down and eat your breakfast.”

I try to sound strict while there's no denying that I think the situation extremely funny. Kreacher's eyes are bulging out of his head, his ears flapping while he's struggling between the two evils.

He can do the unthinkable and sit down with us which is going against nearly everything he believes in or he can disobey a direct order. He finally decides to obey and sits down beside me on the very edge of a chair nibbling on a buttered scone and sipping warm milk. He throws wary glances at Severus as if he awaits to be hit by a hex or struck down by a lightning from his dead ancestors.

Nothing of the kind happens.

I can see the severe disapproval in Severus' face. I guess it reminds him of Hermione's ill-fated attempts to free the elves. I have no intention to free Kreacher. The shock would kill him. Malfoy's Dobby was probably the only elves in a 1000 years who could cope with being free. I've seen a few of the unhappy creatures who had lost their Death Eater owners in the war. They are hiding in Knockturn Alley. They belonged to the old families for generations. Belonged to, there's a fine distinction to simply being owned by a wizard. Kreacher knows deep inside. He belongs to the House of Black as much as I do.

“In memory of Gimpsy.” I whisper in his ear. He looks at me sheepishly and he understands. Gimpsy, the first elf who served a Black, not a slave, a companion who cared for her wizard. Nevertheless he hurries to swallow his scones and downs his milk to rush back to the sink and start cleaning in a frenzy.

~Severus~

I notice the way the elf's fearful face turning to relief. “Very amusing, Sirius. Just splendid the way you treat your inferiors. Very respectful and in joining with his wishes.”

“It is.” Sirius looks unashamed. He whispered words of comfort to the house-proud creature that I could not hear. Perhaps he can be correct in this instance. But I want to goad him. He's waiting for it. I want to snarl at him but it would just embarrass Kreacher even more, I'd like to see what he would do in Kreacher's situation. Mum always said, Severus, you can be right or you can be happy. Pick one.

Why give me the choice? I know what I chose: I like to be right. I decide it is in my best interest and Sirius' not to be right just for one day. Hmph. I doubt the resolution will last an hour but I'll make the attempt. Does that mean I can't sneer? I can't make it past thirty seconds once I'm surrounded by Death Eaters.

“Loyalty, heritage, true to one's kind come what may,” Kreacher croons to himself audibly 'under his breath' - for Sirius' benefit, obviously. “Master wants a nice clean break. Master is hoooome.”

He must have said the right thing. I'm burning to ask, to demand what was said, but where there is a veil of concealment there is usually a purpose or reason for it. There is an odd connection here I swear was not possible yesterday. Kreacher refills my coffee and I look at those reddened eyes again.

“Do you mind telling my why Kreacher is acting like a nut bar?” I ask Sirius in an undertone. “He hasn't muttered under his breath for a long time, and now it's praise, yet more strange than his former venom.”

Sirius shrugs carelessly but his ears and cheeks are faintly pink. Do I want to be happy or right? Can't I be both? He's refusing to say a word, leaning back in his chair. So far that he falls backwards.

I snort with laughter, that hyena-tinged crow. I put out my hand with every intention of withdrawing it at the last minute but I end up pulling him up, and he falls back again, laughing. That's twice he's crashed now! Three times, actually, including the rebound.

“Shall we make our way upstairs? See Regulus' picture? Before you crack something other than your skull? It's so dense it's very hard to shatter, one gets that with stubborn skulls.” I'm laughing more humanly. Seeing him lying there... what I wouldn't give for the chance to hit him with a Tickling Charm. But he's laughing too. He staggers to his feet.

“Wait until Regulus hears I've tipped my chair twice. I used to do it just to entertain him...”

“That's not Regulus. It's an enchanted drawing.” So much for my resolution.

“You had to remind me, so very kind.” Sirius sarcasm.

“Pleased to have been some service.” Mock politeness works well on some occasions.

We clamber up the stairs and enter the drawing room. The portrait of Phineas Nigellus greets the pair of us. “Headmaster, the dolt Longbottom has a message. You're needed at Hogwarts for a staff meeting about the appointment of a new Defence...”

“Yes, yes.” I snap at him. “Go on. When is it?”

“This afternoon at three-thirty.” That's likely to be when the funeral is over. Saved by the bell. Or the staff. Regulus' portrait appears to be awake too. We walk to it and face him. “You must have mixed feelings.” Sirius says.

“You could tell?” It's Regulus' turn for a mocking tone. “I feel uneasy as long as father's study remains occupied. It's hard to get past it when it's in the same house,” he finishes more desperately. I wish I could help but my version of help usually turns out to be a hindrance in and of itself.

“It's hard on us all. You'll be able to breathe soon enough.” Sirius is patient or stubborn or a mixture. I prefer to think stubborn. He's every bit an ass as I am.

~Sirius~

Isn't the whole situation bizarre enough without discussing it with the deceased himself? Regulus obviously wants to be involved. I shouldn't complain. In his place I'd be even more obnoxious.

“Will they come to see me off? I mean those who are still alive and free?”

“We invited everyone you named, Reggie and all will come except for old Nott who is not well . Nott will send his son instead. We'll meet with them at the chapel. Only Andromeda will come here before.”

Regulus's smirks rather insolently. “What a relief. Severus, we don't need to worry. Sirius always behaves himself when Andromeda is near. Oh by the way...,” he's now grinning broadly. “did I spot Mother's pearls around her neck at the party?”

Severus doesn't reply, but the way he looks at me shows he still thinks there's more than I like to admit. I sigh.

“Just to avoid anyone getting funny ideas. Stop grinning, Reggie! Why is everyone in this family so obsessed with matchmaking? I was thirteen and thought I loved her. She was wise enough to refuse me. We've been like brother and sister ever since and that's fine with me. We both expect more from a marriage than convenience and kindness. She was the most beautiful and kindest witch I've ever met. I still think she is, but I am not in love with her and I have not intention to ask her again. Don't you dare to drop clever hints to her, Reggie or you end up in a drawer again!”

~Severus~

I snigger a little at the idea of a thirteen year old Sirius seriously proposing to Andromeda. I stifle it at the look on Sirius' face, like someone both irritable and constipated. I just snort and shake my head at Regulus, who has his mouth open again. “I wouldn't risk it, Regulus. You don't want to get on the wrong side of someone who can tip over their chair and manage to land on the floor twice. Even Kreacher was ready to split his sides. Isn't that the most awe-inspiring, forbidding image?”

Regulus laughs just as the doorbell goes off and there is hammering on the door below. Regulus suddenly has a tense and nervous face and Sirius looks as though his blood has run cold. I won't let Reg leave the room, I don't want him to witness them removing the body.

“Just stay where you are. It will be over in less than half an hour, most likely,” I tell Regulus.

We hear Kreacher's bullfrog voice from the hallway. “They are taking Master's body, and Master wears his locket, Kreacher is a good elf and kept it safe those dark days...Master Regulus is really going this time. At least Kreacher can see no nasty Muggle disturbs the funeral.”

We hear his voice inching down the staircase. “Kreacher's service to Master Regulus will never be over...Kreacher keeps him inside as much as Kreacher kept the family treasures...Kreacher will go to his Master Sirius. Master Sirius needs his Kreacher.”

There were three other voices. The guttural rasping of a goblin and a male human voice, mixing with Sirius' intense speech.

A sound of walking and a door opening. The scrape of something. A wizard casting a Hovering Charm. I think of 'Mobilcorpus' and wince at my thoughts which seem as always painful or sarcastic, it comes just as unwillingly as willingly. I suppose unintentional snark that has all the bite of the calculated kind. Regulus' perfect corpse out there to be laid under the earth. I suppose they will prepare the body and I hope they don't let him just decompose. Hope they don't release him from the last spell he'd met, from his faithful house-elf.

The house-elf who is now crying his misery. Be quiet, Kreacher, people other than Regulus are lost too. I think of those lost to me. Evan Rosier always made Hogwarts tolerable. Lucius was once a proud prefect, now formless as a shadow, a trace of himself just discernible. He's lost too. Wilkes. Avery. Nymphadora Tonks. The Nott who is too ill to come. The waste of space called Richard Flint, who will no doubt ask me doltish questions about Sayla's watch. He was once a man, now a joke. Even Lupin had his place. Albus Dumbledore, no matter how my views have changed. Travers. Mulciber, we knew each other ever since he irritated Lily on the first train ride to Hogwarts. Antonin Dolohov. Regulus Arcturus Black himself. And of course Lily Evans-Potter. I'm scratching the surface. There were the Prewetts, the Bones', the McKinnons. Fred Weasley. Charity Burbage. Who cares what side. They were there and now they are not. So much has changed but for occasional faces, Horace, Minerva, a few others, who remained. None as good as those who perished.

I may be lost in thought but I notice Regulus trying to edge out of his drawing. I tell him off. Sirius edges in.

“We may as well get ready, they'll be ready in an hour or so. Andromeda sent an owl saying she would be here shortly, before lunch. We should skip lunch, I think,” he adds.

I know not to cross Andromeda if I don't want a formidable witch and an angry, talented wizard hexing me to smithereens. It's not worth the hassle. I'll try to keep my snark in check around her. Most of all, she means so much to Sirius.

The doorbell chimes again, the knocks on the door soft but distinct. I think I like her style. Sirius rushes to the door and Regulus starts to snigger. I silence him with a look.

“Hello, Severus,” she says, extending her hand. I don't know what to do so I click my heels like a Prussian and kiss her hand. She giggles. “I've come early so we can depart soon. I want some time by the casket to say goodbye. Thank you both for recovering him. ”

“Kreacher did more than both of us combined,” Sirius says humbly. “Are you quite ready then?”

Andromeda nods her head, her eyes wet with emotion. She turns to me and looks quizzical.

“I'm ready.” I can tell my eyes are glittering by the feel and by the look Sirius gives me.

“Yeah, me too,” Sirius informs me. “We're to Apparate at Highgate Cemetery, at two o'clock, as you told the others I hope. Want to go get ready to greet the guests, then?”

Andromeda smiles at us getting along. I can't blame her. It's nearly obscene given Sirius and my history.

“I certainly feel ill-disposed to lunch. Yes I told them where and when. Do I look like a blithering fool to you? I'll go if we have something constructive to do there. The body won't arrive for some time?”

“It was taken care of. They say they'll use Kreacher's protection, and they've removed the body to the chapel. It's been protected from prying Muggles. Kreacher's job is to ensure our privacy.”

“Theo Nott...he's worse than I was at his age, if somewhat similar. Yes I noticed. He's so jumpy, he'll have set concealment charms around everything I'm sure.”

“So we're off,” Sirius smiles a little.

“We're off,” I echo.

Snacks And Letters - Part 75

Mon, 19 Sep 2011 11:49:36 GMT

Authors: valkyriekat and sionna_raven
Title: Snacks And Letters - Part 75
Word Count: 2919
Rating: PG 13

~Severus~

It's been quite a long day, what with Lucius looking like something the cat dragged in. Remember the talk of power? True magic? Welcome to what became of your ideal world, old friend.

Seeing him gaunt and sallow reminds me of a broken toy soldier. Well, reap what you sow, and allow me to sneer in Lucius' general direction. The same face I give Potter's self-stirring cauldron. There were good things about today? How do I loathe thee, let me count the ways...

I'm preparing for the worst and expecting even worse. The funeral will be darker than retrieving Reg's body from the underground lake. Worst case scenarios rush through my tired brain. The unpredictable Theo Nott is a problem; should he act up, others will take advantage of it.

Sanity in the form of Andromeda and Narcissa and I believe Draco and Horace should help. I'll pull Draco aside and give him a task. He likes tasks. My finger clench into fists and back again several times.

Sirius what the hell do you think, that I want to police the shabby gathering, that I should somehow know how to deal with Death Eaters former or half-present? Great Salazar, I do not want to be babysitter to a load of adults, politically correct or the opposite. Why is there rarely middle ground? The nature of the ideology? I think for a bit.

I think through a shower and lie wet and still once more on Reg's bed, covered in his cloak once more. I'm going to take this cloak if Sirius agrees. I'm going to use it or keep it in my closet. Sentiment. Sappiness. Potions masters and Headmasters can have it too.

I sit bolt upright. Noise at the door. It's just the cat Alexi scratching at the door to come in. I let her in and she hides under the bed. I growl and throw the pillow hard across the room, and though light it knocks over Regulus' aspidistra and the pot loses half its soil. How lovely. I restore it with a sharp jab of my wand.

What I am, what I know, never shines though in what I show. Except irritable sarcasm. I could change but why in Merlin's name should I or would I want to?

Sirius is an arrogant pureblood, and such a battle-scarred Order lackey, Gryffindor. Yet I am closer to him now than I have been to anyone save my mother. Like having a brother. A real one, one you can fight with but you're still family.

I think darkly of this. How much more exposure to Sirius and in front of Sirius can I take? He has shown me trust in several ways but try as I might I cannot trust ... anyone. If I did, he'd be first choice.

I get out of bed and pace in furious circles. Why should I spy on old friends, control them?

Because I was a damn fool ever to sketch Regulus. And now making him speak aloud. I am a glutton for punishment, or just don't think through all the implications.

One is as bad as the other. I stand stock still, and let my own fire scorch me. I will do it for my memory of Regulus far more than for a body or a sketch. I stretch on the bed, then curl under the cloak again. His prefect badge digs into my side-- is nothing ever right?

It seems it takes me two hours to fall asleep. I imagine Richard and want to offer him the nearest poison with an unknown anti-venom. The rest of those attending... they're sooo much better. The only one I wouldn't hex if I could get away with it is Andromeda. And she was the opposite of her sister Bellatrix. Do I hate my own house, my own former decisions? I curl more tightly under the cloak. “I hate all of you!” I snarl aloud. Luckily there is no answer from the service lift.

Exhausted and burning with anger, I attempt to rid myself of all emotion. I drift...and sleep engulfs me a last.

~Sirius~

We have retreated to bed early. We're both getting nervous about tomorrow. I know I'm acting stubborn, listening to the wishes of a portrait. Sirius Black arranging a meeting of Death Eater vets, unheard of folly.

I feel confident that I – that we – can handle the situation, but do I really want to? How many times have I sneered at the fact that the name of Black graced with a handful of galleons could make people do whatever we want them to do? Now I'm taking advantage of it.

I can hear Severus pacing next door. He must feel cornered, used. If only I could get it through to everyone that I am responsible for the mess I got us in. I don't want anyone else to be in trouble, because of me.

The pacing has stopped. Has he gone to sleep? Can I risk to do what I've been waiting for. I should.

Sneaking out of the bedroom at night is a skill one never loses. Avoid the creaking floorboards. I've known them by heart for years. The door of Father's study opens without a sound. Kreacher is there again standing guard at his master's body. He looks at me with affection. It hurts to understand that he loves me, probably has loved me all those years. Maybe we need to love to hate so much.

The elf's magic has preserved the roses around the body, but I vanish them anyway and replace them with fresh ones. Too many roses around the slender body of a young man who almost looks like a boy. He was even younger than Harry is now. Children given the tasks of men and then blamed for failing to make the right choices. I feel a pang of guilt at the thought that things were easier, if there was only the heap of bones I had expected to find in the cave. Regulus looks like he's only sleeping. Untouched, calm, peaceful...........unreal.

I gesture Kreacher to leave. It's my turn to hold the vigil tonight.

He hesitates to obey. For a moment I think that he doesn't trust me with his beloved master, but then as he grabs my hand with both of his I understand that he is worried about me. I try to tell him that I'll be fine, no need to worry. The words don't come out. I slide down to the floor and Kreacher hold me in his arms like he used to do 30 years ago. I cry into the folds of the green pillow case. No need to be strong, because Kreacher will protect me. He kept the ghoul in the toilet quiet; he knew a spell to stop the snake door handles from moving in the dim light of the street lamps and every night he checked under the bed and in the cupboard for boggarts. He's stroking my hair and softly humming an old elf song, magic without words.

I can see the three dark scars on his left forearm. I caused them. He had cut himself with a large knife, when I accidentally had locked myself up in an old oak chest in the attic for more than an hour. I think Bella had her hands in it. We'd been playing hide and seek, all of us. The boggart from my cupboard had moved into that chest, after Kreacher banned it. I still get a bit nervous when locked in alone.

Kreacher's song is not strong enough to put an adult to sleep. However it makes me feel safe. I reach for my wand and cast a Patronus charm. The bear cub jumps around and Kreacher smiles.

“You can stay, if you like. Just let me talk to him, will you?” Kreacher retreats into a corner. I sit down in Father's chair and put my hands on Reggie's. I wonder why I don't go downstairs to talk to the portrait. It's the Regulus I knew, frozen in time shortly after I left him, but it's not real. The sketch is a magic echo of the Regulus we remember. This here on the desk is my real brother. He can't give me answers, but I want to tell him anyway.

“I don't know where to start... at the beginning perhaps. I didn't want to leave you. I really intended to write to you like I promised, but the moment the train left the station it was as if a curse was lifted. I felt free for the first time and there were the other boys, James and Remus and that little rat Peter. Normal boys, excited like me , curious, trying to hide how scared they were by acting cool. Just like me. I had never met anyone like James before. Do you remember? He was the boy who got the third racing broom. He laughed his head off when I told him how I panicked when they took it from the shop window and his father walked away with 'my broom'. I think I was almost spellbound and we talked about Quidditch and all those things. Nobody recited family trees or cared for pureblood lineage. James cared for houses and I made my choice. I wanted to be all right for James whatever it costs. I had no idea that it would cost you in the end. I took for granted that you'd follow me to Gryffindor. When you didn't I felt abandoned. James did everything to cheer me up and you turned your back whenever I tried to make you join us. I couldn't understand why you didn't like James. No wrong, I knew why you didn't like him. I just refused to accept it. I thought, if you just got to know him... instead you kept to your own lot as I kept to mine. And I saw you with Severus. I thought he spent time with you to spite me or you were with him to punish me. Do you notice I call him Severus now. You were right about him; I was wrong. He really is good company, best company I had for a long time.

He's here to help me bury you. In style, just the way you'd want it. He went with me to the cave . Without him it would have taken me months, perhaps years to find you. It was almost like being with James again... no, better, because we didn't do it just for the thrill. Unfortunately he's just doing it for you.

I'm jealous. I've always been a little bit jealous of you. You were liked by everyone for being just you. I was a disappointment. To Mother and Father which I don't really regret. To you when I left you alone for them to drag you into darkness. To James and Lily when I failed to protect them and finally to my godson. I wasn't there to be a godfather when he needed one. I tried to fulfill James' expectations, too often against my own judgement. My fault not his, not really.... I know you always thought otherwise. He didn't make me leave the family, leave you. It was my decision. I enjoyed it most of the time. I liked showing your idiot house mates, our stupid inbred cousins and I liked fighting Severus. I thought he did, too and I still think there were moments when he enjoyed it. Or maybe not, because to him it was real. To me it was a game, a challenge. I missed the point when it went too far. All that was left was mutual hatred. The greatest disappointment is perhaps that I didn't even have the decency to stay dead. I should have ended up like a good Gryffindor war hero a smiling image in a silver frame on Harry's mantelpiece. All I am is a pain in the back. I'm really good at it!

Isn't it funny I came here to tell you the things I should have told you when you were still alive. That I miss you, that I never stopped loving you, caring for you, no matter how much I pretended to hate you. Instead I tell you of my present troubles. It's always been like that. I was supposed to be the big brother, the strong one, but in fact you were looking after me. I have to rely on my own judgement now. I can do it. I will remember all the things you once told me and follow your advice. I do remember them. I did listen. I've always been good at pretending not to listen, haven't I? I guess you were the only one who noticed. Will you continue to look after me? You did all those years. Have you seen my Patronus? Even Kreacher forgave me when he saw it. Severus said yours was the same. You did trust in yourself, didn't you? Confident enough to see your errors and act to make up for them. It took me 20 years to do the same. Do you think Severus can forgive me? I'm asking too much, don't I? I don't just want him to forgive. I want him as a friend as he was yours. I'm wondering did he ever tell you that I nearly killed him in 5^th year? Your portrait self said you didn't know what happened. He had promised not to expose my friend Remus, but I think you had believed his words without any details and would have really hated me. How many times did he act more decently than we did? I didn't mean to kill him, but that doesn't matter. He could have died and only survived because James wanted to protect Remus... and me. Did anyone ever care about him?

You did. Now that I took the time to get to know him I do, too. You told me I would like him. We roasted Gryffindors over the drawing room fire. Yes, we did. Can you believe it? Your portrait was there and later Mother came looking for you. Mother's portrait, she died while I was in Azkaban. She believed in my innocence and tried to get me out. She was the only one and I really thought she hated me. I thought I hated her; I don't know what to think anymore. Grandfather Arcturus said I was like her, too much alike to get along. How did you and Father manage to endure our constant fights? Her portrait doesn't talk anymore. It's better that way. I fear we would be screaming at each other again. We did, when I returned here the first time. She went mad when you died.”

“No, Kreacher's mistress didn't go mad when Master Regulus died. She tried to find my young master and went into mourning when they told her he was dead. Kreacher couldn't tell - couldn't comfort her. Forbidden! She waited for you to come and find my master. She waited for months, for years. It was the letter, the letter from the Ministry that made her ill. Her heart broke that day. My mistress went to bed and never got up again.”

The quiet voice of the elf sends chills through my spine. No! That can't be true! I hardly dare to ask...

“Which letter? When?” I bite my lips not to scream, but I can't stop the tears, when the answer I dread comes.

“Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Bartemius Crouch, heartless bastard.” Kreacher spits out the name with a hatred only matched by my own. I bury my head on Regulus' chest and cry without restraint. I don't hear that Kreacher moves closer and flinch when I feel his warm little hands on my shoulders. He doesn't speak, just holds me as I lie there trembling, sobbing. I don't know how long. After a while I get quieter and hear a strange noise. Somebody else is crying, too. A woman??? There aren't any portraits in the study. Phineas said so. The noise is faint as if it comes from far away, very far away. I look to the door. No, wrong direction. Not from far away, the crying is here, in this room, muffled, coming from inside the desk. I open the drawers, one after the other. The crying gets louder. In the last there is a locket decorated with the family crest. I open it, a miniature portrait of my mother as a young woman. She lifts her face and smiles at me under the tears. I smile at her.

I show it to Kreacher. He nods.

“It belonged to Master Orion.“

We've never been a normal family, but a crying man, an old elves, a portrait in a locket and fresh corpse which had been dead for twenty years may be the strangest family reunion this house has ever seen.

***

I wake up from steps on the stairs, Severus on his way to the kitchen. I still hold the locket. Kreacher is still sleeping cuddled in my lap. I regret to wake him, but I can't move any other way.

“Go down to the kitchen and make breakfast. Tell Severus I'll be there in ten minutes.”

Kreacher hurries out.

I say goodbye to Regulus and return to my room to take a shower and get dressed.

Snacks And Letters - Part 74

Thu, 08 Sep 2011 05:28:21 GMT

Author: sionna_raven and valkyriekat
Title: Snacks and Letters - part 74
Word Count: 3900
Rating: PG 13

~Sirius~

After the owls are sent, we can only wait for the replies. I'm pretty confident that Slughorn and the Malfoys will agree to attend. Lucius will be suspicious, but also curious to find out what I'm truly up to. I imagine that they keep their owls busy to discuss the strange invitation from the blood traitor among each other. Regulus wants Malfoy, Nott and Flint to be at his funeral. That's all that counts to me.

Some time after lunch the fire announces the arrival of Boruk. We've met before, when I made my will and again when the legacy was returned to me by Harry. The younger Boruk isn't really young. He looks older than Kreacher. He probably is older than the elf. Goblins don't give a damn about wizard laws and they don't talk to the Ministry about their clients. Severus eyes him suspiciously, a reasonable reaction. One can trust a Goblin to act like a Goblin and they trust a Black to act like a pureblood wizard. That has been a working business arrangement for centuries.

It's a question of manners not to use a wand in their presence unless it can't be avoided. They are still touchy about wands. It's a bit absurd, because they don't really need them. Boruk smirks at the sight of the signet ring. I return the smirk. They charge a handsome fee each time it is passed from one owner to the other, but I know they already deducted it in advance several years ago.

“The ring passed to you, Mr Black, whether you have it at your disposal or not.” No use to argue with a Goblin in such matters.

The mere formalities are quickly done with. The guest list is a bit tricky. There seems to be a Ministry decree that for a gathering of more than three former Death Eaters in public which do not live in the same household – how thoughtful of them to take families into consideration – we need to obtain an official authorisation. We can't get one today and tomorrow is a bit late. Our list contains four marked Death Eaters. Severus snorts as Boruk explains he doesn't count, because he has been a Member of the Order of the Phoenix and a war hero. Leaves us with the legal three, young Theodore Nott managed to avoid taking the Mark before he finished Hogwarts. I wish Regulus had done the same. Boruk suggests that I contact the Head of the Auror Office and the Minister in private, because we are on friendly terms.

“Is it legal to have three former Death Eaters in one place or not?” I bark. I don't feel like begging with Harry and Kingsley to be allowed to bury my brother the way he wants it. Legilimency is not needed to read Severus' face. He's thinking 'stubborn Gryffindor' or 'arrogant pureblood'.

“Well, yes Mr Black. It is legal and with three Order members to be responsible for the meeting the Ministry shouldn't interfere, but using your connections won't do any harm. The Ministry is still nervous. There were rumours of an investigation of Dark activities yesterday.”

Rumours? I'm sure Boruk knows which house they searched. Severus inspects a spot on the ceiling with utmost interest.

~Severus~

“So I am discounted as a Death Eater. How quaint. All that trouble for nothing,” I can't keep silent on this one. “On my left arm is the mark of perfection, a sure sign of a war hero,” I sneer.

“You should know,” Boruk says nastily.

“Hermione Weasley should know, took her long enough to obliterate the past.” I sneer some more.

“If we could keep it to Mr Black, I am here to see him only. Other wand-carriers are beneath my notice,” he says harshly. “The time of the funeral?”

“Two in the afternoon. That's tradition.” They are back at it. I examine the ceiling again, listening to Sirius' stubborn, spoiled voice, the one he always used around James Potter. Pureblood Gryffindor. And I like him?

Click. An idea falls into place. Sirius is treating me just as he used to treat James. Blind loyalty, he'd do anything for me, it's his honour. Same with Regulus and Andromeda. Everyone else can go to hell, or be so secondary they don't matter to him. Maybe he still cares for Harry... but there's an estrangement. Great Salazar, I thought I was socially backwards. He takes the cake.

I wait for Sirius to be finished, observing only. Not that Boruk won – I couldn't be bothered when it comes to goblins. I have my train of thought derailed by the return of Zara, my faithful owl. He is tapping on the window, bearing three letters. Every answer. I take the owl out and over to a large ornate cage. He nearly inhales the water in his eagerness for a drink. He made it in good time. I would stroke him but Sirius and Boruk are still here, just parting.

“Let's not count our Death Eaters before they're hatched shall we? The answers. Malfoy, Nott and Flint.” I riffle through the envelopes and open Flint's first. “Richard is coming, and let's see...” I flick open another envelope and whisk it though the air, and scan it, “Theo is indeed coming. And for the ace card- Lucius indicates he will come under condition of talking to the blood traitor that's hosting this happy event.” I stare at the paper. “He will be in touch just after two pm today.” I hold the parchment in one hand. “Exceptions for families are included even here? The family added would make more than three offenders.” I am thinking of Draco. Narcissa never took the mark, as far as I know.

Boruk looks coldly and me and I watch him carefully. If there's anyone who draws a calculated look from a wand-carrier it's a goblin. I can see his gigantic wheels turning. “That will be acceptable, as Nott never took the Dark Mark in the first place. Three is three. It has been thought through. The Ministry will be informed.” At last he seems to be departing.

I look at Sayla Flint's watch on my wrist. “Two-fifteen. Lucius should be here any minute. He is going to take a piece out of Richard if we're not careful. Unrepentant meets repentant. Richard says he will avoid politics.”

Boruk's expression is unfathomable. Black eyes and in a domed head, elongated fingers, feet in long thin black over-shined shoes. He turns to exit via Floo powder, and he is getting ready to leave when emerald sparks sail into the air and roaring green flames expel Lucius Malfoy into the room.

We're all taken aback by Lucius' arrival. He looks at me with grey disdainful eyes, then at Boruk, then at Sirius. “Boruk,” Lucius says smoothly and his glib ambiguity just oozes out of him. He always could make an entrance.

“Severus, you haven't changed. Slip of a man, and slippery as an eel. Keeping out of trouble? Judging by your present company, I rather think not.”

~Sirius~

Boruk has obviously decided to leave us to deal with our differences. It's better not to have knowledge of certain things.

“We'll collect the body in the morning. Everything will be arranged to your wishes, Mr Black.”

“Thank you, Boruk. Good day to you.”

The goblin steps into the fire and is gone. I turn my attention to Lucius. The rumours have not exaggerated. He's only the shadow of the young man I once knew who believed the world belonged to him. Do I feel pity for a Death Eater? Maybe I just know how it feels when the cause you dedicated your life to came to nothing.

“Nice to meet you, Lucius,” It's only slightly meant as a mockery. I spoke the truth when I said to Draco Lucius wasn't the worst of the lot. “And a belated 'Merry Christmas'.

“Black, what are you up to? First you try to corrupt my wife and son with expensive presents and now you're trying to lure us to an illegal gathering. I'm not that stupid!”

“We've just discussed the legal concerns with Boruk. Three pardoned Death Eaters are balanced out by three Order members. Strictly spoken it is a family event the Ministry shouldn't interfere with. Regulus wants you and your friends to attend. I'm willing to do him the favour. There aren't many left he called friends or family.”

“Family and friends? Narcissa mentioned that you remembered the importance of family lately. Who would have thought? What category do you count Severus in? You weren't the best of friends in the past.”

Severus calmly takes the jibe at his blood status. I want to slap Lucius, but I notice the flicker in his eyes. The man is scared. He cannot afford to make us his enemies, but he doesn't trust us.

“Severus fits both as you very well know, much more closely related to the Blacks than you are, Malfoy. Yes, I remember the importance of family. Isn't it strange what war does to men? Some remember what really counts and others forget everything, even their manners.”

“Sirius, I don't need a watch dog to defend me. Put your mutual dislike aside, both of you. This is about Regulus, not your pride.” Severus growls impatiently.

I back down smiling. I know he's right with both. He doesn't need me to watch his back and this is about Regulus.

“Maybe your old friend could do with a dose of your home-brew to help him think.

-Severus-

I see Lucius look at me sharply. “I am taking no drink from a potioneer who lives two or three lives at once. Once a Death Eater, though, always a Death Eater.” He stares insolently at my left arm, where the brand still exists. I had hoped it would fade completely, and he knows it hasn't. I hate him at the moment. But this man was the one who first greeted me when I was a greenhorn at the the Slytherin table, fresh from the Sorting, with his prefect's badge and shoulder length whitish hair.

I find Draco easier to deal with, fine have it your way, Malfoy. I nod to Sirius, who looks bemused. Maybe even amused. “Sirius, if you could? I know you offered my poison, perhaps Lucius wishes another death by another brand.” I lay delicate stress on the last word. His eyes are still on my left arm, but they flicker over to Sirius.

“How about Severus brings the drink and we all have some? We can all expire together,” Sirius jokes most earnestly, shaking his shaggy head at our foolishness.

“Fine,” I say, muttering “More paranoid than Alastor Moody,” under my breath, carefully enunciated so as to carry to the other two. “Be warned, Lucius, this hound isn't always that tame,” I add more loudly.

I don't look at Sirius but try to assess Lucius, take in the image of him. He is thinner than I am and his hair is straggly, longer even than usual. He looks all angles. His cheeks are hollowed, and a tic goes in his right cheek. Gaunt is the right word, and his pale eyes have lost their dominance, no matter how good an entrance he made. I raise my wand, and give it an irritable jerk, silently summoning the best of the Firewhiskey...which is my only Firewhiskey. I'll avoid drinking any. It's not good to let down any defences, not now.

The bottle soars to me and I grasp it firmly and unstopper it. Sirius conjures fine crystal glasses, and I pour three separate shots in three separate glasses. We all take one. I use a non-verbal Evanesco to clear the glass the moment it reaches my lips. Sirius barely touched his, put set in on the table next to him. We all sit at long last.

Lucius turns the glass in his hands watching the amber liquid glitter through the cut crystal.

“I see you are started to value your heritage again, though you still receive guests in the kitchen.”

There's a dangerous gleam in Sirius' eyes, but his words are merely amused.

“I do indeed. That my blood is not a recommendation nowadays doesn't mean I can't enjoy the few comforts it offers. I'm sorry that you don't like the kitchen. The drawing room is not fit for guests. We had a little party last night, close friends only.” Sirius jerks his head in way that leaves no doubt who he refers to.

It still confuses me, when Sirius calls me a close friend. Lucius is even more confused.

“Relax, sit back, and tell us what you've come to say,” Sirius plays the expansive host easily, he is an excellent actor sometimes.

“I want to know about Regulus wanting me there. I want to know what happened to Severus, that he's befriended a blood traitor extraordinaire. I want to know what this gathering means, and I refuse to be around Flint. He's the Repentant Slytherin capitalized, and I can't withstand his presence. There's one thing denying who you are. It's worse that he attempts to shove it on the rest of us.” Lucius is looking at me, transparent eyebrows raised.

“Regulus portrait decided who should attend. He wishes for you, Narcissa and Draco to come, among others, Nott and yes Flint. And we're not changing Regulus' wishes to suit you.” I snarl the last three words.

“Ah, yes. Portraits are tricky. Why Regulus should choose me... we were alike in pure blood and cunning intentions, but he was ever the idealist, I was more practical... more willing to make hard decisions...” Lucius sounds didactic, This is very vexing.

“Were you? You don't look I'll like a man who can cope with the consequences of his decisions.” Sirius mutters under his breath. I glare at him to shut up. He smirks. Lucius hasn't heard his remark.

“You're not here to give lectures. I'm answering no questions on my recent behaviour. This is about Regulus. You made an impression on him. He looked up to you, remembers you well. He met Draco at the Christmas party and young mister Malfoy made a good impression too. He likes Narcissa. The group is balanced by two opposing parties coming for Regulus. It's legal. If you wish to attend, let us know now.” I sound irritated.

I stand and pour him another shot, one for myself and leave the bottle beside Sirius again. He doesn't drink. Lucius' eyes follow my drink as again I have it evaporate as it touches my lips, and he drinks. I want him to either whine petulantly for acceptance or have his old disdain and sense of personal control. He seems almost himself as he clicks his fingers for another drink. I get neither response. I refuse to fill a glass at such a vulgar prompt. I stare at Lucius, and knit my brow,

“The family – the immediate family will attend. This is Regulus, with his ideals of the young, and the pure. Fine, we accept.” Belch. I suppress a snort of disgust and disbelief. A Malfoy belched in public. The world will end.

He tries to make an exit as grand as his arrival but fudges it by stumbling on the corner of his robes. A pathetic Lucius is a horrible thing to witness. If I were the type to have pity on anyone, one of my first choices would be Lucius Malfoy.

No strut, just a disappearance amid green flames and emerald sparks.

~Sirius~

I shove the bottle away and watch the green flames disappear.

“Let's hope that his own pride stops him from being like this tomorrow. There won't be a reception after the funeral. I don't think Reggie's portrait is up to face this. He admired him since he was a boy. Given that the only alternatives were Bella and her gargoyles, it's not completely unreasonable.”

Severus looks at me thoughtfully. “He's ....”

“No need to tell me. I know I was as bad four years ago. Believe it or not I'd invited him without Reggie saying so. He is family.”

Severus snorts. “A family to be proud of.”

“Just family. Can you tell me a bit about Richard Flint and Theodore Nott? I've met Flint as a boy. He was a friend of my father and my uncle Alphard which actually makes it hard to imagine what kind of ex-Death Eater I've got to expect. Harry and Ron mentioned his son, but more in connection with Quidditch than politics. I don't know young Nott. His father was close to Bella's gargoyles,” I can't suppress a grin. “the Lestranges, but the son obviously managed to keep his distance from Draco and his cronies. Harry doesn't seem to remember much of the boy.”

-Severus-

I consider my answer for a minute. “Theodore Nott is a paradox. He studies the Dark Arts but is as nervous about it as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs. He always fell into high average in Potions classes, no true distinction. He's high-strung and yappy like one of those nervous small dogs. And when he wants, he can snap at your ankle with flair. He doesn't only do that when provoked. A shrinking violet with Venomous Tentacula creepers. He was the “Charms geek” at Hogwarts. It should be very hard to predict him, but from what I know of him, he'll be silent but cast a nervous hex on those nearest him, passive-aggressive. Always more than what he seems.” I stare at the wall while I think, and try to put weighed words to my thoughts.

“He didn't get involved with Draco and friends out of fear of committal. A wise boy out of self-interest, in short.” I finish.

“He sounds quite the Slytherin,” Sirius gives me a small dry wink. I ignore him. Trying to sum up these people in few words would be easy, but I know he wants detail. Something to sink your teeth into. Analysis. Sizing things up. I know more than a little about these things. And he knows it. He's not too lazy to find out, he's just making good use of resources. Or – asking a friend for information? That would be it … along with my shame at not realizing the simple truths in front of my face. I decide not to ignore Sirius.

“Yes, quite. Just as Pettigrew was a Gryffindor. Nott's far more decent by any comparison.” I can't keep a hate-twisted smirk from my face, and it must be terrible, because Sirius looks away.

“Don't remind me.” Sirius looks ill.

“I wouldn't dream of bringing it up. Theo Nott is coming to stand in for his father, Edwin. Edwin has a wasting illness of some sort, deathly ill. He's a wild card, Theo, so we'll have to see how things go and hope he doesn't go off biting ankles. Odds are good he'll be quiet but we must watch.”

“So tell me how lovely our next decent snake is.” He's recovered a little from the mention of Pettigrew. If he feels badly about that, how does he think I felt when Dumbledore said “Perhaps we sort too soon”? Wretched man, manipulator. Sirius and I agree there, indeed we agree on a lot for former enemies par excellence. I think now of Richard Flint.

“Richard calls himself a repentant Death Eater but really he's an unrepentant racist of the worst sort- the humorous, pleasant, joking, belittling sort. The one no one takes seriously but everyone remembers what he said because he's (I sneer strongly here) 'a nice guy'.

Like Arthur around Muggles only in Richard's case it's more than amusement at how clever these little Muggles are, he sends the message that Muggles are great for hex practise or joke about seeing if they're immune to magic by casting Unforgivables. He thinks Muggle-borns should be tagged in the ear .. what was his term … “like common faggots.” He's vile.

I don't know how Orion and Alphard had anything to do with him. But he was more decent at one point and that was the point when Regulus knew him. He was very gifted with the glib tongue. I blame him for being half the reason Regulus was drawn to the Dark Lord's ideology.

People like to feel in on secret knowledge and have secret power. At least those I know and have met. For you it was the Order. For Richard... for Regulus... for me, at first... it was the Death Eaters.”

I get back to the point. “Lucius will probably be less of a problem than non-Death Eater Theo. We should try to keep them separated. Better to stick Lucius in some prestigious seat, because Theo will respect that, and keep his distance. Those two together are quite a handful. But as you say, there will be no reception. By the time it's over I don't doubt the Ministry will be there for what Hermione would call damage control. Let's hope to avoid it.

Where do we stick Lucius? Top of a pecking order with the most decrepit Death Eater at the top and Richard at the bottom. That's how I see it. Draco can keep an eye on his father, and Narcissa can watch them both. Draco can sit next to her, and Theo. Theo will be excited to see Draco again, even if they were in different crowds. Same house, same year, somewhat the same nonsense. Theo will sit next to me or I'll have his wand. You in front, I suppose? I'd rather sit with you. The whole aspect of a social gathering has me grinding my teeth to so many very small millstones. This won't be easy. Richard can't be allowed to sound off at Reg's funeral even in his genial way. Perhaps if we ask Horace to watch him, if Horace wouldn't be too put out at not making the funeral's shelf.” I smirk. “Any suggestions?”

~Sirius~

I consider his words carefully. Flint fits my father and Uncle Alphard perfectly except that they thought themselves so high above the common folk that they wouldn't even have thought of dirtying their hands with active Muggle baiting. Nott reminds me a bit of Severus, but of course I wouldn't tell him.

“Narcissa will certainly take care of Lucius. She's always been capable of controlling him and make him do her bidding. I'm sure she won't let him endanger Draco's future any more than he already has. Draco himself... you know how much the boy looks up to you? With him and the other two I rely on the proverbial Slytherin sense of self-preservation. They certainly don't trust me and they are not the only ones. We'll be watched, but they should be aware of that.

Let's trust the power of your intimidating glare to keep our guests under control.” I add laughing. ”Yeah, that's perfect......”

Snacks And Letters - Part 73

Thu, 18 Aug 2011 10:30:56 GMT

Authors: sionna_raven and valkyriekat
Title: Snacks And Letters - Part 73
Word Count: 4129
Rating: PG 13

~Severus~

“Wait,” I pause at my door and Sirius stops following me. The fact that I'm entering Regulus' room seems a little ... odd. But I have to in order to bring out two phials of potion. I enter the room, snatch up my black leather case and come back into the hall. Sirius watches me move about with interest dulled by alcohol. I'm getting a headache already.

“Kreacher! Come here!” I call and the elf appears bewildered at my knee. “Can you paint the contents of this potion in large amounts into the portrait of Phineas Nigellus? Can you do it now?” Kreacher looks at the phials, both stoppered, one greenish one a brownish-grey. He nods his head. “Yes, Master Snape.”

“It should keep him busy handing out Sobering Solution to the other portraits and Hangover Remedy to those too dim-witted to accept the first tonight, when they complain in the morning.” Kreacher nods vigorously, a strange smile on his face. “You are an exceptional elf. Run and do it as quickly as you can, before the portraits are all asleep.”

The second potion is basically caffeine with a few added tweaks, but there was a little foolish wand waving involved in these specific mixtures. The elf hurries down the stairs. Sirius is smirking. I do that, not him. “What?”I snap at him, massaging my temples.

“You just gave away pure gold and left us with nothing.” Sirius says.

“Don't be such a massive dunderhead. Of course I can provide. I always make doubles of my essential stores.” Sirius waits as I enter Reg's room again and retrieve the Sobering Solution. We both take a measured gulp. Sirius smiles as the effects of the drink is dispelled.

“I had no idea Kreacher was an artist,'' he says after a long pause where I thank sweet Salazar that I brought a potion that is normally worthless to me. I consider Kreacher's case.

“He can do whatever he is ordered, within limits of possible magic, that's my impression.” I shrug, Useful elf. “Now get to bed. Knowing what Regulus thinks of you, you'd talk half the night...the other half of the night...and never let me sleep. I get irritated when I don't sleep well.”

“I wouldn't know what it's like for you to be irritable, Severus, you're generally such a sparkling, vivacious and bubbly person.”

I wince as I fed him half those words about me, sarcastically of course.

“Good night... good riddance until tomorrow,” I snarl. He's already turning away and I slip into Regulus' room where there aren't any portraits. Smart boy. I pull the jeans and black shirt off and fold them in a corner of the dresser. I pull on my rather boring nightshirt and throw Regulus' sheets and a woollen blanket over me. Sobering Solution contains more than a touch of Valerian root and Chamomile. I am asleep within five minutes.

***

I make my way downstairs. Sleep was spotty. I feel distinctly foul-tempered and hope that I don't have to deal with idiocy. I hope Kreacher was able to follow orders. I don't want to walk into the kitchen with an elf punishing himself and horridly hungover portraits. As I pass the sitting room on my way down, all is silent. I poke my head into the room. They're all asleep, or feigning it very convincingly. Only the greyhounds look awake. What time is it? I check my watch. What in the name of Salazar Slytherin an I doing awake at five-thirty in the morning? Kreacher will likely make me toast. I feel more foul than ever. I'm in plain black robes again, cheap ones. They feel better, looser around the collar, and I don't prefer Muggle attire.

Regulus is probably asleep. I walk briskly to the kitchen and pull open the heavy wooden door.

Sirius is there, feet on the scrubbed surface of the table, reading a sheaf of parchment. Sirius? Up at five-thirty? I notice the polished brass pots again. Kreacher isn't here, but if he knew we were awake he would be on hand.

“Mooorning.” Sirius says the word with a yawn in his voice. “Woke up at five. Do you have caffeine in that stuff? It works but it's side effect is...”

“Wakefulness? Shame it doesn't contain gratefulness. There was no caffeine in the Sobering Solution” I give Sirius a crooked smile. My eyes must be smoking because Sirius says, “Turn off the headlights! The glare! I'm reading, hopefully in peace. How can I sleep when there's such good reading material?”

I notice a tube, and that the pages of his document are curved slightly. “I'll leave a certain amount to your discretion,” I say as if I knew all along what he was reading, “ as Regulus says you have such a natural affinity for the Dark Arts.” Is he reading the timeline or the basic curricula? “I do want a professor with knowledge of the Dark Arts from both ends of the spectrum.”

“Looks like you're getting it. Look, I'm not teaching Unforgivable Curses, and no more than an overview of defence against curses, hexes and jinxes that are unfriendly.”

“Because curses, hexes and jinxes are generally friendly...” I say sardonically. “Maybe the mutt needs a chew toy. Something better to spit out than my words.”

“I'll teach my way or not at all. I notice Voldemort's jinx has lifted with his death. Are you sure you want me around spitting out your words year after year? I'm on as full-time tenured staff. Or not at all,” Sirius says.

I survey his stubborn face and my irritability sharpens. “Spitting tacks may be your tenured position but that means full-time in my domain. Teach what course material will see them through their exams and into practical defence required in wizarding life. And then some. You may notice that the course name is indeed Defence Against The Dark Arts? And that the textbook isn't by Vindictus Viridian?”

Really the whole situation, two men arguing with their stomach growling and too little sleep, is humorous. I start to laugh. That nasty laugh turns from baritone to tenor. I feel exposed by the light laugh and change it quickly back to my normal, unusual laugh.

Sirius probably noticed.

Regulus would say I'm afraid of showing my better nature. Maybe he's right. That thought brings out the low sneer of a laugh again, fully meant. Why should anyone, portrait and dead or otherwise, tell me what to think of myself? I turn away from Sirius. His laugh was like waterfalls. Powerful, cascading, a hint of gentleness.

I loathe feeling vulnerable.

“Well, mutt, do you accept my terms and yours as a contract?” I spit. Sirius' face breaks into a wide smile with a hint of wickedness. “Then we'll shake on it. Shake a paw.” Irony, and he knows it. He makes his hand paw-like and I shake it. We're both on the edge of laughing but it's too serious for that. I have a teacher, and on my terms, if with a wrench or two thrown in. Looks like there's no one harder to get rid of than Sirius Black.

~Sirius~

That's settled. I think we will be getting along pretty fine; Severus' syllabus is less dark than I expected and he wants it to look like. He looks tired. After what the kids told me, I'm surprised. Their tales made it look like he's prowling the castle every night and doesn't need any sleep at all.

“Breakfast? I'm afraid we have to serve ourselves. Kreacher spent the night in the study. He popped up, when he heard me rise, but I sent him to sleep. I put the kettle and pan on. Can you get whatever we need from the pantry?”

“I'm fine with a slice of toast.” ,Severus grunts, but he opens the pantry door.

“Trust my vast experience with the morning after. We need a good breakfast.”

I mean to hear some muttering about indecent cheerfulness at this time of the morning which makes me even more cheerful. I hardly remember being caught reading at unusual hours and no one making a fuzz about it. I acquired the habit of reading before dawn at Hogwarts. It was the only time studying was possible without James teasing me. He never saw a point in doing more than the bare necessity unless it was about our projects like becoming Animagi or creating the Map. I admit we didn't need to revise to pass the class work, but some subjects were just interesting. 'Caught a bug from Snivellus' was his usual diagnosis, when he saw me study. Last summer they were worried about about me having nightmares or insomnia. Even Hermione needed some time to understand that she's not the only Gryffindor who can and does read.

I'll never forget her face when she found me discussing fantastic beasts with young Miss Lovegood under one of Arthur's apple trees. It's a pity that Luna couldn't come to the Christmas party, because she is on an expedition to find a Sasquatch with her fiancée Rolf Scamander. She is a clever girl and her ideas about Padfoots were inspiring.

Severus puts some bacon, eggs and mushroom on the worktop beside the stove. He understood what I meant with 'good' breakfast. I summon some orange juice from the icebox and pass him a glass.

“Icebox? I'd expected Mrs Weasley to have electricity installed and a brand new fridge.”

“She did, but the icebox works as fine and the fridge made horrible noises. I got rid of it, because it kept me awake half the night. The curse of dogs' hearing. Molly hated it, too, because Arthur once locked himself in to find out, if the light goes out, when you close the door. He had a bad cold afterwards.”

Severus laughs so hard that he nearly chokes on his juice.

We enjoy our breakfast in peace, until we hear shouts from the drawing room.

“Stockings are filled! Come and get your presents!”

Severus only follows reluctantly. He doesn't expect any presents. But of course, there are two stockings and both decently filled. Arthur has sent bottles of his cider for each of us, Andy gift vouchers for Flourish&Blotts, also for both of us. Molly sent a role of parchment with a horribly complicated spell. I know what it does and am very grateful. It's her own invention to detect and disable Weasley products. For Severus she added a box of fruitcake. He obviously won her motherly heart with his help in the recovery of Regulus' body. I almost pity Harry and Ron, because I expect she gave them a hard time about their behaviour in that matter. From Harry it's an army knife, similar to my old one he broke at the Ministry and – Merlin, no - a self-stirring cauldron for Severus. It's the good intention that counts, isn't it?

~Severus~

If I could throttle Harry Potter for his supposed kindness, I might, but I'm to busy suppressing snorts of disgust and amusement. He really could not have picked an item that says more clearly, I am a mundane, mediocre dunderhead. “What a thoughtful gift. A true treasure. Potter's,” I say unnecessarily.

I do enjoy the magic of how he got it into the stocking, Sounds like something Hermione Weasley could manage, not Potter. I'd ask her but I'd be held back by principles. We are not really on speaking terms except to taunt her about her little Ministry sideshow.

I must thank Molly, the gift and added fruitcake. For both of us, the Wizard Wheezes revealing spell. She is an accomplished witch, she has no choice if she is to be Matriarch of the Weasley clan. Arthur's cider is something I want to drink in another ten years when I've recovered fully from last night, There is no potion that truly reverses a hangover. I don't have much experience. A decent breakfast is half the battle, to trust the expert.

Andy gave the only sensible gift, I think, and I hold up the gift certificate to the light, as no one had given me one before and I always wanted by choice of books like a First year who has managed to enter Honeydukes and sees what a wide selection of thoughts...er, sweets, there is.

“I know what to get you next year!” The hand on my shoulder. Sirius. I was off in la-la land with the certificate. The stocking has one more thing in it. I reach in and there is a box. “Something else, Severus? Your fan club keeps growing. If this keeps up you'll have to admit to having friends.” He's smirking. I chuck the cauldron at him, case and all. It clangs at his feet as he leaps back. “Maybe you'll start acting like a friend too! Kidding, Regulus knows more than I do.”

I open the flat white box, and try to ignore Sirius. There's a crest on it. I've seen it at Spinner's End. There's a note attached in a scroll. I open it and smooth it, brow furrowed, reading.

For Master Snape,

Kreacher.

I remember Ginny mentioning once that Kreacher gave Harry maggots. The box isn't full of maggots but rather a small watch, which could be either gender's. It would be smallish on a man but large on a woman. Small wrist like mine? A decent fit. I produce my wand and mutter the basic counter-curses, anti-jinxes and anti-hexes. It appears harmless. Sirius is laughing at me, speaking to a watch in fluent anti-dark-arts-ese. Why? Another, smaller note had fluttered to the floor. Sirius hands it over, saying “Aww,” under his breath.

Master Snape

This belonged to Sayla Flint. Kreacher saves and salvages.

It is yours. Family.

Kreacher

Why does the elf keep doing this? He's the most thoughtful of the Blacks. I glare at Sirius and he stoops making noises appropriate to a small child chuckling. Kreacher gave up a Black family heirloom? I 'll speak aloud my frustration.“Again? Something strange with that elf. But it's Sayla's. He counts her related, as he says, It is yours. Family. Confounded elf, I don't want to owe anyone anything. That took up most of my life and look what it got me: a self-stirring cauldron.”

~Sirius~

“You'd better keep the watch and be quiet. Elves are easily insulted. Rest assured it's not a Black family heirloom, when Kreacher feels entitled to give it away without asking me. By the way self-stirring cauldrons are good for whipping cream. Regulus favourite dessert, strawberries with loads of cream.”

I feel a bit reluctant to open the small box which looks very much like the one Severus holds. Did we manage to throw away anything in all those cleaning attempts? I lift the the top. No, we didn't! Two toy figures made of tin, colours faded. I haven't seen them since I was eight or something and felt too old to play with them. There were dozens of those tin wizards, but those two were our favourites. Regulus and I had them go on quests to explore father's study. The could raise their wand arms to duel, but they never duelled each other. Mad Elf!

I have been thinking about what to give Kreacher for some time.

“Reggie, can I have a word in private? Severus, if you excuse us.”

Walking up to the portrait I start to whisper with my brother. He nods and as I have hoped for knows where to look for the special item.

“Thanks Reggie.” I leave the drawing room and run up the stairs. On the third floor right at the end of the corridor there's the oak chest which contains mother's dowry. I carefully put aside her wedding dress, protected by wrapping tissue and spells. There it is the Irish linen which was used for the old cradle, still brilliantly green from all the in-woven protections the large pillow case which served as a cover fine lace at the edges and the Black crest stitched on in the centre. It survived countless generations of unruly brats and won't fail the elf even at work. I conjure a wrapping and return to the drawing room.

“Kreacher, Master Regulus wants you to wear this from now on. You've got to change it to stick your head through and fix ribbons to tie it around your waist. I couldn't do it, because with such changes it might look like clothes and I don't want to lose you.”

The bloody elf starts sobbing and muttering again. Severus rolls his eyes and Regulus puts an end to it.

“Shut up Kreacher! Go and do as you're told!”

Kreacher obeys immediately. Regulus laughs.

“Has it become a tradition under the new rule that everyone starts sobbing at presents? Stop grinning, Sirius. You looked like overflowing, too, when you opened Kreacher's present.”

I show him the figures.

“Folks get sentimental with old age, don't they? Anyway, you got your presents and I want to go back to sleep. Don't you have anything to do?”

“We have indeed. Severus, are you coming? I may need your help.”

We return to kitchen while Regulus makes a show of curling in his painting to sleep again. We do have indeed a few things to do. I summon note paper.

“I thought it a bit inappropriate to write the invitations to the funeral in front of Regulus. Can you enquire about the people Reggie wanted to be there. It's still a holiday, so I can hardly owl the Goblins today. I hope they can arrange everything at short notice.”

“You can owl them right away. Goblins don't do Christmas. I will write to the Notts and the Flints and Slughorn. We'll see how they react.”

“You're sure about the Goblins? I should think so. All right I write to them and if they are at the office I'm sure they will reply soon. We should enquire about the legal issues with a couple of pardoned Death Eaters to gather in public. Us two and Andromeda are fully cleared, but Lucius is still under probation. I don't know about Nott and Flint. The last thing I want to happen is an article in the Prophet. Harry and Hermione would be very annoyed. “

“Regulus' friends were Death Eaters. There's not much you can do about it, unless you want to make it a propaganda show about the Slytherin boy who turned against the Dark Lord.” Severus replies sharply.

“I don't! It's just that there are things which need to be done and there is pointless provocation I wish to avoid..... Can you make it clear to them that I don't want politics discussed at the funeral?”

“That's something I do agree with.”

We settle at the large table and start writing our awkward letters, Severus' probably worse than mine.

The letter to the family lawyers is easy and I send it immediately. The one to the Malfoys is a bit more tricky, but I've warned them to expect to hear from me soon. There's one more, to the Daily Prophet, a simple announcement. No time, no place, I don't want to advertise it, but I refuse to keep it secret. There's no reason to feel ashamed.

“Is it all right for you to sign the announcement in the Prophet with Andromeda and me?”

“May I read what you want me to sign?”

I shove the text I've already written over the table.

Regulus Arcturus Black

28.8.1961-12.7.1979

Theirs not to make reply,
Theirs not to reason why,
Theirs but to do and die

Remembered in brotherly love and friendship

Sirius Black

Andromeda Black-Tonks

Severus Snape

“Am I supposed to get used to Gryffindor cynicism now? 'The Charge of the Light Brigade', isn't it? Do you think they will get the point?”

“A few will, others won't. May I leave your name on it or not?”

“Leave it for Salazar's sake. I guess Regulus would like it.” Once you get used to his ways he sounds not nearly as grumpy as he wants to.

“Do you want to add a personal note to the Malfoy letter telling Lucius that Regulus would want him to attend?”

~Severus~

I can feel my brow furrowing with concentration. I become very aware that Sirius, Lucius and I have Azkaban in common. I was there for a short period. Sirius was there the longest. The claimed crime committed by each of us was Dark magic and fealty to the Dark Lord. That Sirius served there longest seems a reversal of how it should have been. Lucius is a rotten apple, but he was a mentor, a friend of sorts, from the moment I sat down at the Slytherin table and he clapped me on the back, in my first year. He left a legacy in the common room and I enjoyed teaching his son.

I look for parchment and a quill. There's one on top of a .. dear me .. writing table. I snatch up the quill and smooth the parchment,

Lucius, old friend.

You'd be very welcome at Regulus' funeral, and I will be pleased to see you. But please, no political nonsense about true blood and true magic and true ideals, which I won't argue are or are not true. I wish you to know you may see former friends, and I suggest you skip the chit-chat about the nobility inherent in the Dark Arts. The younger Nott, Theodore, Richard Flint, and Horace Slughorn will be there but we are there to celebrate Regulus' life and mourn his death. It's not a cosy gathering of .. you get my point. You don't deserve to be sent back to Azkaban. Behave!

Yours,

Severus.

I shove the letter across to Sirius and he snorts reading it. “Ours is no to lecture why...” he apes his own use of the Charge of the Light Brigade. I snicker.

“Are you sure you want him to come? But Reggie does, that is what matters,” Sirius says.

I smirk. I know. But

“Lucius needs warning, but he is very good at presentation... “ I let my snark be heard in tone of voice. “I have wanted to see Lucius for years. It's never been ... prudent. I'm sure he feels the same way even if he does call me “half impure traitor” with that affectionate sneer. I'll write the others notes more to the point, much more invitation than rant.”

I walk out, knowing I seemed a little odd there. But it doesn't matter. Regulus matters, in portrait or memory and most certainly in body. I stump up to Regulus' room. He has a writing table of course.

I scrawl identical notes for Theo, Richard and Horace. Unlikely or at least curious house mates. Lucius, the privileged snoot of the Dark Lord, Theo the Charms geek cum Death Eater, Richard the “social conscience” repentant type, and a Potioneer cum social climber. Horace will agree to no politics. Will the others? There are two owls here, mine, Sirius' owl is gone and the family owl is ancient. I wish someone would investigate making letters travel by Floo powder.

I let my owl Zara out into the wind, every letter bound to his leg, feeling this can't come too fast and also can't be over with too quickly. I still have the trace of a hangover. Perhaps that can be an excuse for talk of affectionate sneering.

~Sirius~

Severus has left the kitchen to write his letters in a more fitting surrounding. I don't mind the kitchen table. Kreacher has returned in his new dress and removes the mess we left after breakfast. I call for Andromeda in the fire. She is already awake. Teddy keeps her busy. I don't need to explain to her that there will be Death Eaters at the funeral. She knows, but she urges me to make sure that there won't be legal problems. I promise to talk to the lawyers. Legal concerns about a family funeral....

My owl picks at the window with the reply from Boruk, Boruk & Laddkill. The second Boruk, son or nephew of the first announces his visit for this afternoon.

“…. delighted to be of service to the Black family”

I look at the ring on my hand and feel odd.

Snacks And Letters - Part 72

Tue, 09 Aug 2011 21:51:15 GMT

Authors: sionna_raven and valkyriekat
Title: Snacks And Letters - Part 72
Word Count: 3300
Rating: PG 13

~Severus~

“You two! Enough with the blame and the shame. The Dark Lord could have found ways to attack your precious James and precious Lily no matter what and Dumbledore was really such a jerk. You trust anything he tells you then you're almost as stupid as trusting what the Dark Lord tells you. I can see we three have a past, but can't we leave it behind? Just for now?” Regulus sounds very, very exasperated. I see the sense in what he says.

“What is done is done and there is no point apportioning blame when there is no way to travel back to the past and change it...not even with a time turner.” I let my fingers stray to a deep pocket and hold the round object I have always refused to use since Seventh year. “No setting time back can erase the past.”

“Spoken like a true book,” Regulus snickers. “It's Christmas Eve, time to put things behind us. A toast to the future?”

“Kreacher! Please fetch the vodka and orange juice, the 26 ounce bottle.” Kreacher nods, and I notice he has left Regulus' locket behind on the chair he stood next to. “Shame the under-age brats can't celebrate with the adults.” Sirius' eyes glint with mischief. Kreacher practically sprinted in order to obey quickly.

“You wait! I know this house too you know.” He stops stroking a tan and white greyhound and dashes through the portraits out of the room, leaving Sirius and I stymied. I wonder, “Are there any pictures with alcohol in them?”

“The one of Cygnus and Druella on the grass with a large glass of sherry, on the second floor landing.” Sirius answers at once. “I bet he did go there. If he's going to drink, I certainly will. Why not forget for tonight, Severus? Let that greasy hair down?”

I growl at Sirius, baring my teeth. My canines, even. I feel my hands clench and unclench but I can't seem to control them. “Cease and desist putting me down or I shall have put you down so far you're six feet under.” I'm touchier than usual. I blame the conversation and the nerves I have jangling beneath the control, which I know can break so easily. Wouldn't vodka just make me worse, as it did my father?

“Whoa. Down, boy. You give Padfoot shoddy competition though.” Sirius bares his own teeth in a grin, as Kreacher trots back into the room with a number of glasses, vodka and orange juice. Regulus slinks through three portraits to get back to the hounds. He's not holding a glass of sherry, but rather a gargantuan bottle. I look at Sirius. Sirius looks at me.

“Are you two willing to witness whatever may come of my intoxication?” I ask shortly.

“Sev's getting drunk! Yay! That means I can too!” Regulus grins as he writes, fingering his bottle lovingly.

“And I am not going to put up with you two's nonsense by remaining sober. I'm not afraid of venom.” Sirius picks up the vodka bottle. “Remember how mother would allow you a glass of wine at Christmas dinner and never me? From the time you turned eleven. They didn't trust the lion.” Sirius considers the vodka bottle, raises the orange juice and then chucks the orange juice into the rubbish.

“You can't dislike mother and father that much that you have no positive memories of our home Christmas before you started running off to the Potters.” Regulus opens the sherry bottle.

“Everything old is new again,” I say. “One type of past is bad, one type good. Selectively search for the positive. Classifications of negative and positive emotions. Sounds like nonsense.”

“Right up your street, then,” Regulus laughs as he takes a swig and chokes on the sweetness and alcohol. “Come on, you came here too when you were fourteen. You couldn't go home and didn't want to stay at Hogwarts without Lily. I convinced you.”

“I remember the way those biscuits danced...” I say. Sirius nods. “Mother was always so good at producing marzipan and honey-almond cookies. You did a good job yourself.”

I turn away, flushing. I want to blame the exaggerated cookie scene on the elf.

I watch Sirius pour two ounces each into two small glasses rather like square water glasses. He passes me one and I give it a sniff, thinking of Russian potatoes. It smells like it could degrease engines.

I drink it in one, a hissing noise escaping me after I swallow. “Was that Snake Fluid, Severus?” I notice Regulus has written. I still feel lucid. Not much used to alcohol. A moment later an idea comes to me and I whisper a special version of the Sonorous spell.

“Speak using your tongue. I'm sick to death of reading your writing.” I sneer.

“What?” Regulus scribbles.

“Just try to speak.”

“...out loud. Out loud! I can speak our loud like a regular portrait! I can hear myself. I was so lonely .... thank you Severus!” Regulus looks a little choked but then he is one fifth finished a large bottle of sherry.

“I did it for me as much as you, I hate your handwriting.” I smirk at Reg and enjoy the voice of my boyhood friend.

“There you go, unable to accept that you're really a nice person.” Regulus winks. Sirius laughs, and I snort. Sirius seems touched at hearing Regulus again. Is this alcohol? I take another vodka. We forgot our toast.

“To Sirius, the best friend a man could have.” I raise a glass, looking into Sirius' grey eyes. I know he's thinking of James without Legilimency. I trust the others will make toasts.

“To family, and honour and decency!” Regulus waves his sherry though the air.

“To Regulus and Severus. What I almost missed out on for far too long.” Sirius is sad-looking. He weaves where he sits, on his fourth quick shot of vodka. I see a tear leak down his face.

I look away. “That was an interesting experience being here in my youth, Reg. It was so very much opposite to home. The decorations in silver and green, the carols, the willingness of your parents to let use use magic here, the tapestry's life, the way if I asked a question I got an answer. Chasing Andy and Cissy with handfuls of rodents from the alley, Bellatrix and her mad laugh that was still a laugh to hear back then...”

We all fall silent. “It's time! Listen for the Carillon! It's ringing twelve o'clock! Happy Christmas!” Sirius' tear is forgotten, and he starts to laugh maniacally. Howling, barking mad, I think, smirking.

Dong, dong, dong....the Carillon and the distant Big Ben.

~Sirius~

I turn to open the window and let the Muggle sounds in, bells and squeaky sounds from the neighbours' houses, carols, pop songs and classic music. The songs haven't changed since I was a boy. The rain has stopped and the cold air increases the funny effect of the vodka.

“We've forgotten to draw straws, Sirius.” calls Regulus from the wall. I'm still startled by the fact that the sketch suddenly can speak.

“No need to! There's only one choice.” I light the star on top of the tree. “Regulus, brightest star of the constellation Leo.”

“Can anyone tell me what this is about?” Severus asks exasperatedly.

“Black family tradition. Each year we drew straws to name the star after one of us, Bellatrix, Andromeda, Sirius or me.”

“Everyone else not named after a star excluded. How very nice and typically Black.”

“You have a Roman wall bearing your name the whole year. Very fitting, if you ask me.”

Severus eyes turn to slits. “Oh yes, the boys at primary school were very impressed.”

“You went to a Muggle school? What was it like? I wanted to go so much, but Mother wouldn't allow it.”

“Imagine you are the only wizard, a strange looking oddball and the Muggles were all like you and your friends.”

“Little girls in dressing gowns, cut your hair or wear pigtails? A black eye changed their view on us dramatically. You take those things too personally. You always did. Can you imagine how many stupid jokes I've heard about my name? Even James …”

“Sure, it's all my own fault, isn't it? Taking it too personally. I should have laughed, when you called me Snivellus.”

“Sev, it's Christmas! You can call me siriusly disturbed and I promise not to call you Snivellus ever again. Deal?”

“You are seriously disturbed, Mutt!”

I turn into Padfoot and jump around him, stubbing him with my nose and then I sit down in front of him wagging my tail. Regulus is squealing with glee.

“Sev, I think you've got to take the dog out for a walk.”

Severus sighs, but only in jest. I roll on the floor at his feet. He is not exactly sober anymore, just like me.

“All right, before something indecent happens. Fetch your collar and leash, Padfoot!”

I run into the hall and get both, unpleasant necessity in a Muggle environment.

Severus puts it around my neck, not too tight. He is nice to animals.

“Stop jumping, dog! Where's the muzzle?”

I growl and he laughs.

~Severus~

I put a few fingers under the collar to test laxness, then attach the leash. Regulus whistles, and shouts, “Good luck keeping him away from the midnight bitches!” I look at him quizzically. “It's Christmas Eve. We need not worry about many canine harlots.” I can't contain a sneer but Regulus merely waves and says “Have fun!”

As I leave the room I feel like an idiot. That's Padfoot, that's Sirius, I can never get over how they can be one being in two bodies. He's a dog so I'll be kind. Dogs are loyal to those they like, and to judge by the frantic wagging of the tail and the licking of my hand and his nose halfway up my sleeve, I take it he likes me.

He's pulling on the lead as we exit the front door; he's straining to get out. I can guess why. I keep fumbling with the leash and weave very slightly as we walk to the centre of the square where there is a bit of brown winter grass between the snowy patches, and two trees. As we get nearer he pulls.

“Siri---Padfoot! Behave yourself!” I growl.

More pulling.

“Heel!” I say firmly. He walks docile at my side, never passing my knee. I wish I had more experience of dogs. I think of my cat Alexi and think I'd prefer Padfoot. But then, stopping at one of the trees, he raises his leg and pees on not only the tree but my right leg. He's...never trust a drunken dog!

“Scourgify!” I clean up the mess quickly and Padfoot whines as I swear and snarl at him. I hate making dogs whine. They're so preferable to people.

I have a tube container I was planning to give to Sirius so I may as well do it in style. Give Padfoot something to carry, give him some pride as he trots like a horse.

“Defence course syllabus and calendar and time outline, for you to carry until you become Sirius. Hold on.” I pass the small light brown tube down and he carries it gladly. I walk him through the dimly lit streets, most houses black as the children wait for their stockings. I think about childhood stockings. Ha. I don't notice that we have come to another square, this one more green, and that Padfoot is straining on his leash again. A rat? No, he has to...do his business. I let him off the leash to do it, and he turns three circles and humps over and I look away. I use Evanesco again. Smelly. I'd hate to be a Muggle or surrounded by Muggles and have to scoop manually.

He nuzzles me, panting, carrying his message like a heroic war dog. I stumble a bit. The vodka is still hitting me like a padded boot to the head, and war dog makes me think of Odo the Hero, and his song.

I sing aloud...and Siri---Padfoot, howls along. We sing and howl seven verses until we reach:

“And Odo the hero, they bore him back home

To the place that he'd known as a lad

They laid him to rest with his hat inside out,

And his wand snapped in two which was sad.”

There's a fair amount of slurring in my song and I hear someone yell “Shut up, lugless hound!” from the window of a nearby tenement house. I check and make sure the panting dog hasn't forgotten to pick up his “stick”. Then I vomit everywhere and Padfoot sniffs it. I drag him away from it, using Evanesco once again and follow the path I took, reversing my steps back to Grimmauld Place.

Number Twelve. I hear noise as I open the door. It seems Regulus has taken his huge bottle to Phineas and that a few other portraits are in the same frame, boisterous, drunk. The large picture containing the greyhounds. I remove Padfoot's leash.

I look at Padfoot, surprised by the ruckus. Hogwarts has competition as far as noise goes. He drops the tube and I look and in a second Sirius is shaking his shaggy head at me.

“Well? Wasn't I a good boy?” he asks.

“Pay attention, mutt. Your parcel. Your eyes only. New Defence Against The Dark Arts regime.”

Sirius retrieves the package like a good dog.

“You would find a purpose even in drunken meandering,” he says, grinning. He's still wearing his collar.

~Sirius~

Regulus has invited a few other portraits and they're having a party on the drawing room wall. As we enter a 17^th century witch arrives with a plate of crumpets and her husband has lighted a fire.

Under a tree sits another wizard and plays vivacious tunes on his tin whistle. The old hag from opposite father's study has recovered from Corner's attack and dances with the portrait who gave her refuge. The second greyhound from the family crest has joined in. Other ancestors have brought their own provisions and share them generously. There are too many portraits and paintings in this house.

“Phineas! Is this your idea of looking after your youngest grandson? He will feel crumpled-up to the last thread of his canvas by tomorrow.”

Phineas returns an earthen jug to the Scottish wizard next to him.

“The boy is a Black. He can take a few. Don't be a spoilsport. This is a Slytherin party! Feel honoured to be invited, Gryffindor.”

The witches and wizards gathered around the fire start chanting.

“Gryffindor! Gryffindor! Let's roast Gryffindors!”

They put butter and sugar on top of the crumpets and hover them over the flames..

Severus lounges in his chair and has another vodka. “Good idea. Kreacher, where are your crumpets? Let's roast Gryffindors!”

“Where I come from we called it roasting Slytherins.”

“Of course you did. And you probably imagined that we were brewing disgusting draughts and roasted slugs instead.”

“Well yes, what else? You roast a Gryffindor and I a Slytherin and then we swap. What do you think?”

“Haven't your parents taught you anything? Never take food or drink from a potion master.”

Severus smiles, but as always there's a subtle undertone.

“I think I can take the risk. I've already eaten your biscuits yesterday and survived.”

“Wait until you wake up tomorrow. You may be turned into a bug.”

“Not unless you're George Weasley polyjuiced.”

Severus pretends to shudder. “Not another Weasley, please....!”

Kreacher has brought the earlier dismissed crumpets, butter, sugar, jam,chocolate and black currant syrup. I sit down on the rug by the fire and start preparing the 'Slytherin' for roasting. Severus joins me and prepares his 'Gryffindor'.

In the portraits one wizard has gotten a fiddle, a witch is clapping spoons and the Scottish wizard has found a bag pipe. He's out off practise, that's for sure. A young witch sings an endless lament for her lost lover on 'The Rock of Azkaban' . Then they turn to merrier tunes. Severus and I exchange our crumpets and lick the sticky mess from our fingers. Placing another set over the fire, trying to surpass each other with the weirdest combination of toppings. We can't turn back time, but we can have fun.

“Sirius, you have chocolate on your nose.”

“So what, the black currant syrup is running up your sleeve.”

Our own family band on the wall plays jigs and reels at breathtaking speed. 'Rocky Road to Hogwarts' and then they all join to a mad chorus:

“And whack fol the dah O, dance to your partner
Welt the floor, your trotters shake,
Wasn't it the truth I told ya, lots o' fun at Regulus' wake!”

Regulus sings loudest and only stops to yell at us. “C'mon Sev! Sirius! Sing along!”

Who can refuse a dead boy's bidding? Soon we lie on the floor panting. My painted family still makes a noise to raise the dead. Not the dead perhaps, but...

When I look up I see a shadow moving in the background of the landscape painting. Regulus has seen her, too. He stops singing and cries out: “Mother!”

He wants to run to her, but Phineas holds him back.

“Give her time. She's not ready, yet. You woke her for tonight. She lost her way long before her death. Now she needs to find it again to come home.”

She retreats deeper into the trees.

“Sirius, have you seen her? “ There are tears in his eyes.

“Yes, I've seen her. She has come to you, because she loves you. You're her little king.”

“No! She has come for us, both of us. She loves you as much. Look at her! Listen!”

Listen to what? 'Shame of my flesh'; 'Disgrace to the family'? There's a whisper, the wind moving in the trees, rustling leaves. “My two cunning little snakes...”

I can't stop the tear running down my face. That's what she called us before Hogwarts.

I feel a hand on my shoulder.

“Never doubt Slytherin love.”

I don't dare to look at Severus. “Can you teach me Slytherin friendship?” I whisper.

There's a slight increase of pressure, before the hands disappears and the wall of sarcasm is back in place.

“I'm a horrible teacher. Everybody will tell you as much. But maybe I'll try. You seem to have the predisposition.”

“Give it a try, Sev. My brother is not nearly as thick as he pretends to be.”

“Thanks for the compliment, Reggie.”

The interruption seems to have calmed down the portraits. Some are gathering their stuff and make ready to leave for their own frames. A few have just fallen asleep where they sat. The party is over.

Severus has mentally piled up stones to repair the breaches in Severus' Wall and is about to leave for bed. The bells strike 3 o'clock. I pull myself together to close the window.

On the way up the stairs to our rooms I can hear a few portraits humming.

“...lot's of fun at Regulus' wake!”

Snacks And Lettters - Part 71.2

Fri, 05 Aug 2011 20:12:42 GMT

Author: sionna_raven
Title: Snacks And Letters - Part 71.2
Word Count: 1795

~Sirius~

It is so difficult to explain to a 15 year old what took us decades to understand and what we still can't handle. Regulus sniffing stops.

“Is Sirius treating you right, Kreacher? You know you can tell me the truth.”

I look down awaiting the final judgement from my old elf nanny. Kreacher doesn't answer immediately. He looks embarrassed to be asked such a question.

“You heard your master's order. Tell the truth!” I say hoarsely.

The elf smiles sheepishly. “Master Sirius is trying to be a good master. He has come to his senses. Like I told my mistress even unruly brats like him grow up one day.”

I pull his ears and he throw his arms around me. All right, my elf calls me an unruly brat, my friend says 'Mutt'. Whatever, he managed to cheer Reggie up and make even Severus laugh again.

The next question is equally awkward. “What happened to mother and father?”

“Father died just before you finished Hogwarts. Of a natural cause as far as I know.” I look at Kreacher who merely nods. “Mother died in 1986. I don't know how.”

“You don't know? Didn't you even bother to come to their funerals?”

“I had no hope to believe I was welcome, when father died and on mother's death I was …. indisposed.”

“Hope you had fun with Potter!”

“Regulus, that's enough. Sirius was...” Severus sounds exasperated with both of us. He looks at me, but I look away. “Sirius was sent to Azkaban in 1981 for having betrayed the Potters to the Dark Lord.”

“BOLLOCKS! What idiot believed that?”

I snigger, when Severus replies: “I did.”

“You have been in good company.” I try to laugh, but there's still some bitterness. If only one of my friends had reacted like Regulus just had! “I think we've established a while ago that we were both.... the biggest fools who managed to get away alive and free. Regulus, you were much smarter than we were and figured out that great wizards are only out for themselves and their own noble plans, when we both were still to blind to see.”

“Can someone please explain to me in short what happened? The Dark Lord promised to bring back the old times when magic was respected and to teach us spells beyond our imagination. True wizards should be judged by their abilities, not buy their way to the highest positions. That's what got you hooked, Severus. Tradition and family values should be renewed like grandfather Arcturus taught us. I don't understand.”

I look at Severus who gestures for me to start.

“All right, I'll try to put it together. Severus, Kreacher, please interrupt me, if I go wrong. You joined the Dark Lord,” Severus raises his eyebrows at my use of the title. I shrug; it's easier to talk to Regulus in his own terms than to start another pointless discussion about saying Voldemort. “ in summer 1978. I guess along with your older room mates. “ Severus nods in confirmation. “At the same time James, Lily and I joined the Order of the Phoenix. You had still one year at Hogwarts, so I guess you didn't really get involved in real action before the next year.” Severus confirms again and I continue to recall the events as I understood them from Harry's tale. Regulus listens without interrupting me until I tell him that Voldemort used Kreacher to test his potion and left him to die in the cave.

“He left Kreacher to die? But that's against everything we believed in! Kreacher is a family elf!”

“One more thing 'the Dark Lord knew not' or did not care about.” I leave out the details about the Inferi. He doesn't need to know. It doesn't matter anyway, because I think Kreacher's protective spells prevented the curse to work.

“He never found out what I had done? Mother and Kreacher have been save all those years?”

“Yes, your death protected them.” Severus throws in. “We knew you were dead, but none of us seriously suspected that you turned against the Dark Lord. Your family was safe.”

“Shouldn't you continue the tale? I only know it second hand.”

Severus shakes his head. “You are the one raised on stories, continue. I step in, when you make it too much of a fairy tale.”

“The following spring a prophecy was made which announced the coming of 'the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord'. Part of it was overheard and reported.”

“Sirius, I said no fairy tales. I overheard the prophecy and reported it to my master.” Severus smiles at my attempt to downplay his responsibility. “ I was promised a generous reward for my service the safety of Lily Evans, now Potter.”

“You were still on about that silly Muddleborn? Even after she married Potter? Biggest fools is the understatement of the century to describe you two.”

“Reggie, hold it for a minute.” I'm trying to make sense of what Severus just said. “Severus, you asked for Lily's life just after reporting the prophecy? Why on earth didn't you tell Dumbledore, when he called you disgusting? You had no reason to care about James' safety or even think that he was in any danger except the one he got himself in at this point of time. Harry wasn't yet born. You still cared about a friend who had dropped you years ago. That's not disgusting; that's bloody loyal!”

Severus stares at me as if he lost the ability to understand plain English and Regulus taps his quill on the parchment.

“Sev was absolutely mad about Evans, not one clear thought in his mind when it came to her. He was even worse than you about Potter, if that was possible. You were both pathetic!“

“Regulus don't talk about....! Severus and I cry out simultaneously and stop at the same time, noticing that we're just confirming what he said.

“So grown up, impressing, both of you!”

“May I continue with the tale or do you want to pick on us a bit more?”

Regulus makes a generous gesture for me to carry on.

“ The prophecy had announced the birth of Voldemort's, the Dark Lord's” I correct myself as Reggie flinches. “adversary for the end of coming July. In the following months nothing important happened except the usual Muggle- and Muggle-born baiting got slightly worse. Lily and Alice Longbottom were expecting, but we had no idea that this would change everything. Dumbledore to whom the prophecy was made never mentioned it to anyone in the Order. It was only after the two boys were born, one on the 30^th of July and one on the 31^th that he warned the parents of an increased danger. We didn't take that warning too seriously. Honestly we all had been on the Death Eaters' list for years. The Longbottoms were Aurors and James and I had done one or two things to annoy your Dark Lord and all of us had told him where to stick it, when he asked us to join.” Severus throws me a sidewards glance. “Oh, come on, you didn't really think that they had not tried to win the 'Pureblood elite' of our generation? Lucius made more than one attempt to convince us and once even your master gave us a speech about all the wonderful opportunities which would await us, if we joined him. Reggie, I have a pretty good idea what he promised you. It might have tempted me, if I believed one word.”

Severus looks slightly hurt. Had they promised him revenge on his school enemies, while secretly trying to recruit us? Regulus however smiles and the next words he scribbles shock Severus even more.

“You hardly could resist the temptation of learning some more advanced magic as long as it wasn't too Dark for your taste. Remember what I once told you? Severus wasn't more of a Dark Wizard than you are.”

“Kick me I'm a Dark Wizard.” Severus growls.

“You looked like one. I didn't. Think whatever you want of me, James never got involved in the Dark Arts. He hated them! Luckily he never suspected or recognized them easily. I've told you I'm qualified for the job you offered, haven't I?”

“You're as much of a hypocrite as Dumbledore.”

I glare back at him. “No, I'm not. It just happened. I read everything available on my parents' book shelves before Hogwarts. Our father encouraged us. He always laughed about what he called 'Ridiculous Restriction of Underage Magic'. I never used the Dark Arts. There was no need. Though I guess the idiots from the Ministry might disagree about where to draw the line.”

Severus shakes his head. “Spoiled, arrogant Purebloods!”

I grin sheepishly. “I think it's your turn to continue. I couldn't figure out when exactly you turned spy for Dumbledore or what happened next.”

Severus obliges and tells his part of the story as quickly as possible. It's still hard for him to recall those events. As hard as it's for me to remember how clueless we were kept by Dumbledore about what was going on.

“.... when Lily died to protect Harry some kind of Ancient Magic was evoked and the Avada Kedavra cast to kill Harry backfired. The Dark Lord's body died. Harry Potter survived marked. Everyone believed Sirius had been the Potters' Secret Keeper and he was arrested the following day, while he tried to catch the real traitor, Peter Pettigrew. We thought.... we hoped that was the end of it, but Dumbledore insisted it wasn't and he made me promise to protect Lily's son, when the Dark Lord returned. He finally did in 1995 and Potter managed to defeat him two years ago.”

Some of the things he said are new to me and help me to make sense of details I haven't understood so far. I long to ask a few questions, but Reggie already looks confused.

“The Dark Lord dead, blood traitors and Mudbloods in charge? Are you going to do something about it?”

“Regulus, the other way round was worse and we both need...” Severus smiles sardonically. “ to be careful that they do not withdraw our clearance.”

“Very careful indeed.” I concur smugly. “I think I'm quite content for a start to be a pain in their back. That and the happy thought that Voldemort and Dumbledore rotate in their graves that we are alive.”

Snacks AndLetters - Part 71

Fri, 05 Aug 2011 19:47:11 GMT

Authors: valkyriekat and sionna_raven
Title: Snacks And Letters - Part 71
Word Count: 1447
Rating: PG 13

~Severus~

We have apparated to the filthy square of Grimmauld Place. Number 12 never looked more welcome. Not even when it was the hotspot for nefarious spying, and was the one escape from the Dark Lord. One place he never came. I hated “Black” being there, and now it is welcome precisely because Black is there. I won't tell Sirius that. I feel grateful to Arthur as I speed up my steps. I overtake Sirius, who is striding along lightly like an elf of Tolkien fame. He seems as happy of the escape as I.

I allow him first entrance, being his house. My mind is back with Regulus. I step forward and stumble. Looking down, I see gold and scarlet tinsel woven together, woven with small roaring lion heads where my shoelaces once were. I grimace and Sirius claps me on the back. “Wasn't me!” he said. “It was Padfoot, I swear!”

I snicker softly, wondering when revenge would come. Sirius barks, and the bark is twice as humorous because 'Padfoot did it'... my snicker turns to a laugh. I don't have a nice laugh. I have a low, sneering laugh that suddenly appeared when I was fifteen. I wonder why, in all snark. I stop laughing and Sirius does too.

“Would you like Kreacher to make tea?” Sirius asks as the house-elf appears. Kreacher looks expectant. “Jasmine for a change,” I tell Kreacher, and he bows low, and asks, “And for Master?”

Sirius smiles. “Just tea. Black tea. Or Darjeeling. Surprise me, Kreacher, one or the other.”

Kreacher trots from the room in his towel. He is more like the old family elf I knew from the few extended periods I was here as a boy. I know he wasn't pleasant to Sirius, but that recommended him to me at the time. I shake my head as we enter the shadowy kitchen. The scrubbed wooden board shortly has a cup of Jasmine tea and my non-wand arm lying on the table, and two booted feet and two cups of tea, Kreacher brought both types, with a plate of crumpets.

“It's too late for crumpets,” I growl. Kreacher looks ashamed. “It's too late for anything but a chat with Regulus before we go to sleep. See how he's coming along.” I look at Sirius.

“Kreacher used to sneak me crumpets at night, when Reggie told him to. There's a reason for everything.” He turns to Kreacher. “You're a good elf, you don't have to listen to nasty old Snape - unless he asks you to.” Kreacher tries to understand this human nonsense and I have somehow hurt the elf. Human feelings are easy to walk on, elf feelings quite another. “Good elf indeed.” No sarcasm. No irony. Not a sneer. But he takes it as such. He just looks more confused. I always end up wounding where I mean to help. I scowl at the floor and want everyone - Sirius and Regulus' portrait especially – far away where I can't hurt them.

The polished and copper pots gleam, the heavy iron pans glow dully. Sirius puts a hand on my shoulder but my muscles tense and I jerk away. “I'm not looking forward to it either, though there are some things I would like to know.” He's walking away from the table, and I understand that to mean talking to Regulus.

We go upstairs and locate the portraits across from the Sitting room fireplace. Phineas Nigellus is in his frame. Regulus is as well. They must have heard us arrive. “Sirius? Severus?” he flits into a portrait of the hounds depicted on the Black Family Crest, and he scratches a sighthound's ear, looking a bit irritable. “Where the hell did you go? Not with the Prewetts?”
“They're Weasleys,” Sirius says patiently.
“What? Oh you said. But they're the biggest lot of blood-traitors...”

“Things are different.” I say curtly. “What was white is black. The chess game reversed on itself.”

“Nothing can change that much. Or maybe yes. My world is crazy. Severus, go to a social thing at a carrot-tops' place? And leave me alone on Christmas Eve? And Sirius, since when do you decorate the house in house colours? My house colours?”

“Who says I decorated?” Sirius says stiffly, hiding a smile. “OK fine, I decorated to the tastes of the family. Not too much, though. Ask Severus how I decorated his shoes this fair Eve.” Sirius nudges me and winks. I struggle not to roll my eyes and curse him.

“Severus, Sirius, why did you bring me out? Why didn't you leave me to my sleep? Life is so much easier in a twilit world. You know that saying, “Nothing is true. Everything is permitted,” you taught me, Severus? Well I hate it and that's what life looks like. From what Phineas Nigellus has told me, everyone that matters is dead or in Azkaban.” Regulus lifted a finger in his frame. “The Malfoys and Flints and Notts are all right, Montague's OK, but Andy and you Sirius are the only close family alive. You know where this leaves me?” Regulus' voice grows louder and higher, to almost a wail. “Looks like if they could they'd stick my bloody portrait in Azkaban! Mother and Father gone! It's terror all over!”

“We brought your body back from the cave it was in. Did Phineas tell you that?” I say too brusquely.

“Ph-ph-ineas told me you went on a mission to get my body from a place riddled with Dark magic.”

“Riddle and Dark magic had something to do with it,” Sirius mutters. “We brought it back, and you should know, because you can tell me who you wish to be... at your... funeral.”

“At my funeral...” Regulus' voice drifts away. He picks at a corner of his portrait. Something of a pattern with him, the drawing is frayed but the parchment is still in place. At your own funeral, Reg.

“Well, I just mentioned everyone left I care about. And is Professor Slughorn still around? Horace the Embarrassing? He might like to come.”

“He's always around. He's more cunning an old coot than most people realize.” I grimace. “I hate to say anything good about him, but he'd be glad to attend. He certainly liked you more than me.”

Sirius snorts. “You sound like a thirteen year old, Severus. Who likes who better?”

I snort right back. “Would it matter to you if Harry liked me more than you?”

“Harry Potter you mean? I take it you're talking about the downfall of the wizarding race.” Regulus sneers. I smile. “If only it were that simple,” I say.

“I love Harry, and I wish you wouldn't vilify him. It's no more fair than what Hermione Weasley does.”

Regulus and I look at Sirius. I shake my head and so does the depiction of Regulus. “You go against all sense, Sirius.” I didn't say it.

“Maybe so, but I fought against worse. And I've experienced Azkaban. I have a well-defined sense of what is right, if not a conventional sense. Voldemort is worse than Harry any day, and you both know it. Stop snickering, Severus. You know better. You put yourself in constant danger to derail his little train of power.”

“Well, well, I never thought you could say such touching things.” I'm sneering but I don't mean it. I think that they might have noticed.

“Why are you all red, Sev? You really wanted to defeat the Dark Lord?”

“He betrayed all of us. Muggleborns to purebloods. He never lived up to his promises. His actions belied the little speeches and domination in that simple sense, in being master of death- in the end he was in it for himself, what he could attain, not what wizardkind could attain, you figured it out before long yourself.” I say coolly.

Kreacher coughs at my side. I twitch and turn to him a little. “Master Regulus should wear his locket when he is buried,” sobs the elf, “Kreacher will give up his greatest treasure, Master Regulus' locket.” It's a moan of ecstasy. He could serve no better.
“Thanks, Kreacher,” Regulus' portrait says softly, looking at the elf and still trying to swallow my speech. Nothing else has brought home to Regulus the fact that he no longer exists than Kreacher's action.

“Kreacher knows Master Regulus is worthy.”

Regulus sniffs.

Snacks And Lettters - Part 70- Section 2 of 2

Mon, 25 Jul 2011 16:37:35 GMT

Authors: sionna_raven and valkyriekat
Title: Snacks and Letters Part 70 - Section 2 of 2
Word Count: 2321
Rating: PG 13

~Severus~

I sit next to Sirius, and Bill is on one side of me. Bill never could stand me and I decide to say nothing to him but give him the occasional dark glance with a lip curled. I look at George. He catches my eye and smiles. What odd behaviour for a Weasel. I see him catching Sirius' eye and looking sheepish. Molly beams at me too. What is their problem? Can't they be consistent in the least?

The dinner is interminable. Molly has had a few drinks and asks us if we want “Tooding after the Purkey” or whether we want a break to digest before the “Pudding, my mistake, after the turkey.” The mass of Wealseys gets louder and louder. I wince.

Sirius nudges me. “I can see that keeping your silence is not a Weasley trait. Never was. But what a noisy lot. They're not well-mannered at the table, either, but I suppose we must withstand the hordes for decency's sake. That and there are people I care about here.” He jerks his head to indicate Andromeda, Harry and Ron in turn. I agree with his first choice, but he can keep the last two out of three. I pick at the food on my plate and try to tune out Christmas cheer and endless Quidditch talk.

“Sorry, Sev, it'll be over soon enough.” Sirius looks at me with slate grey eyes that seem too understanding. Perhaps I enjoy my nearly solitary world? Eyes of a dog, an eager mutt, I look away before I see a tail wagging.

I couldn't eat much, but I rarely can. Especially since we had Christmas dinner last night. Everyone agrees to wait until after the dancing for the pudding, which to my relief won't be a flaming Christmas pudding, but treacle tart to please the Potter brat.

The one thing that unites a Potter and a Prince: treacle tart.

I rise before everyone else, avoiding the present opening, making for the toilet, but really just wishing to escape the glares I received and the looks George and Molly gave me with their condescending pity.

I would like nothing better than to Disapparate or Floo out of this house of cretins. I glower and wait, sending off vibes that state clearly that anyone within twelve feet of me will be hexed. I would rather be almost anywhere else.

Hermione is approaching, I dare not hex her. Why doesn't she stay at pudding forever?

“Headmaster,” she says with a curt nod. She oozes efficiency. No wonder they like this Muddleborn Memory Machine.

“Rising star of the Ministry,” I sneer delicately.

“I hear you think Clearance is some kind of joke. It's a very real part of an open regime.”

“An open wound perhaps. You know what I wrote in The Practical Potioneer's opinion column. Discrimination for a noble cause sums up the ideas of many a Dark wizard. My friend Regulus died because of such a cause. You reverse it and the same will happen to you. One can only oppress people for so long before one is opposed.”

“It's not discrimination. It's keeping tabs on purebloods, Slytherins, former Death Eaters and attempts at new Dark wizardry. That's hardly unfair given the past history...and don't threaten me. I am in the position to make threats, but you notice I don't.” The angry goose effect again only this time it's Hermione instead of Harry hissing and jutting out her head on her long neck. I smile my amusement. She'd spot most subtle hexes and I'd love to give her ingrown eyelashes. She'd know. Smirking at her and watching the effect of it is approximately equal to a hex.

“You're much too kind,” I say very softly, dangerously in a carrying voice. A few people – Ginny, Fleur and Andromeda – turn to see what the fuss is about, watching us from the table.

“You're right, I am. If I were not you wouldn't be Headmaster.” Here eyes are aglow with that strange manic fervour she gets for her pet projects.

“Remember what happened the last time the Ministry attempted to interfere at Hogwarts, in your Fifth year? Do you wish for a repeat?”

Hermione flushes, and balls her small hands into fists. I smirk some more. Enjoyable, really.

I give her a gloating smile and look for another place to stand where I won't be interrupted in my dark musings.

I find a likely dark and quiet spot, in a corner where the light is dim. After standing and observing for a minute, I hear Charlie and Bill muttering about my robes. The silent serpent, I, stand here waiting to strike anyone who comes near. The horrid noise of a certain popular singing sorceress reaches my ears. Warbeck. No one will be fool enough to ask me to dance. I glare at Ginny's hair as she strides across the extended dance floor in search of an easy target. The same haircut, the same willowy form, but her eyes are a merciful caramel brown. I have to stop scowling? Give me a reason.

~Sirius~

George has thrown me strange, questioning looks during the meal. He seems to want to talk to me, but waits for the right moment. When we rise to listen to the unavoidable Celestina Warbeck on the WWN , he pulls me into a corner.

“Sirius, I don't know... Snape said I should just ask you. Do you mind, if I attend your brother's funeral?” He looks relieved to have it out at last.

I look thoughtful. I've been determined not to have them around. I've promised it to Severus, 'Regulus' friends and family'.

But George just like Molly knows. Perhaps he can even understand. I try to explain.

“ You mean well and you do understand what it means to miss a brother. I want people to be there, because of Regulus, not because of me. Are you sure you want to attend the funeral of a loyal Death Eater, pureblood supremacist Slytherin?”

George is stunned. “But he turned against Voldemort in the end. Harry and Ron told us about it. He died trying to stop Voldemort.”

“I know what Harry told you. He told me the same, but I think I knew my brother better. Regulus turned against Voldemort, because he realized that Voldemort had betrayed everything he believed in. He was an idealist, believed in fairy tales far older than Beedle's stories for children. A decent lad, yes; loyal and brave; in many ways braver than I was and certainly more kind-hearted.” I get lost in though. There was a time I believed in the same fairy tales, but I preferred Gwydeon and Chuchulaine to Math and Merlin. I continue talking more to myself than to George. “I was almost two years his senior, but he was the one who kept looking after me, trying to keep me out of trouble, comforting me. He accepted the responsibility I ran away from.”

George has listened quietly trying to understand the sentimental nonsense.

“Whatever he was he must have been someone special the way you talk about him. I trust your judgement and I'd like to learn more another day.”

“You can meet him one day. Hasn't Harry told you about the sketch Severus gave me for Christmas? I must warn you Regulus wasn't too fond of carrot head blood traitors. He's met your Prewett uncles once or twice.”

“Harry said the sketch was a bit confused, stuck at 15 years old or something.”

“Yes, it'll take a while until we get him up to date with the latest events, but he is less confused than Harry may think. Anyway I think we've made it through the official entertainment part. Bill has turned on some dance music. Your wife is looking for you.”

“Don't be so gleeful. Since Harry has managed to convince everyone that he has two left feet, you won't stand a chance to escape my sister.”

He's right. Ginny has joined Angelina and both are heading towards us. We let them drag us to the magically expended free space which appeared in the middle of the room. Bill and Fleur are already dancing and Vicky on Arthur's arm is clapping her little hands in joy. Neither George nor I really mind the kidnapping. Ginny and Angelina are wonderful dancers. I swirl Ginny's Quidditch-trained , slender body around to a wild polka tune. She's laughing, her long red hair flying through the air. I'm painfully reminded how very much like Lily she looks in such moments. Not that I had the chance to dance with Lily very often, James watched her like a Gringott's dragon.

Like Lily! I haven't seen Severus for a while. He let George talk to me and Ginny dragged me away, before I could make out where he was.

The polka is over and I make my excuse to the disappointed Ginny.

“It's been a hard day. I'm an old man, have mercy.”

I search for Sev. Darkest, far off corner, looking like one of the stone gargoyles which guard the entrance to the Headmaster's Office, the aura of 'don't come near me' seems almost like a real physical barrier around him. Gryffindors are not afraid of poisonous snakes!

I walk up to his side. “Fulfilled my social duties for tonight. I'm free to enjoy more pleasant company.”

I'm very grateful that there aren't any wandless, non-verbal, lethal curses. Not that I know....

~Severus~

I glower at Sirius. He must know. He seems reticent with me. “I think I will be going now. I am quite sick of Weasel-otters. I have not been the least prickly hedgehog, but only in a perfectly fitting response to what surrounds me. Are you coming, or at least coming soon?”

Sirius relaxes as I don't mention Lily. Then I turn and snarl, “You had to dance with her like that didn't you? Like she was a wand, an extension of your arm. I don't pity your dancing skills, you can dance. I cannot. I am grateful she did not come to me at least. And you know who I am thinking of.” I give off waves of forced solitude, feeling I can't take much more of the red waves of hair, which I imagine has the scent of lavender...

“Ginny has brown eyes. Lil...” I turn on Sirius like a bear protecting her cubs. I snarl at him, “Don't mention her name again tonight or I will hex you to oblivion in utter silence. And stay away from Ginny Potter. When I back down, you back down and we will return to a state of ... normalcy.”

Arthur has spotted the way I have Sirius cornered and rushes over to intervene, with his own agenda I am sure. Sirius didn't back down. I haven't yet. He does give me a grimace and a shake of his mongrel's head. I refuse to back down, so does he. Arthur has arrived, bearing a smile and something small in his hand.

“Newest addition to the plug collection. This one comes from one of those fantastic personal commuters. The kind of machine that can do maths I hear. Would you care to inspect the rest of my plug collection?” I shake my head but Sirius looks delighted. Anything to get away from the token Slytherin? No, he looks at me expectantly. I grit my teeth as Sirius drags at my sleeve. “Fine, I'll go!” I snap. Anything to get rid of the guilt I feel at snarling at Sirius. Normally it wouldn't matter, but this time it wasn't warranted.

~Sirius~

Arthur, our saviour! If he had not intervened, I might have said things I regretted. Harry is not James and Ginny is not Lily and for tonight at least I am glad about it. Sev looks like he's going to hex the next person who speaks to him. I wouldn't mind, but we don't need any more trouble today. At least he doesn't offer much resistance. Charlie winks as we pass him. We sneak out off the backdoor, over the yard and into Arthur's work shed. I slump onto a wooden crate and pull Sev down onto the one beside me. Arthur throws the plug he showed us into a box under the shelves and pulls out a large bulbous bottle. I conjure three earthenware goblets which he fills with a golden liquid. The sweet smell of apples fills the air.

Severus hesitates. He hasn't really thought we'd be looking at plugs, has he?

“Drink. It's not poison. Good old home-made cider, just the thing we need.”

“Those we love and a place to hide from them.” Arthur declares.

I laugh, at Arthur with whom I spent many an hour here in the summer, at Severus who still seems to have trouble to get that he's not the only one who needed a break from an overdose of red hair.

“Those we don't need to hide from.” I look at Severus hoping he understands. He doesn't answer, but Arthur speaks.

“If you'd trusted me enough to tell me about your plans yesterday, I've made excuses for tonight. You both don't feel like having a party. You can disapparate from behind the pig pen.”

Severus' face brightens up immediately. I'd felt the same, if not...

“What about Harry? He won't...”

“Leave him to Molly. She's already told him what she thinks of keeping you from recovering your brother's body.”

Severus already stands and I rise, too.

“Thanks, you can't imagine what this means to us.”

“It's all right. Off you go!”

We run over to the pig pen avoiding the lights coming from the house and Disapparate.

Snacks And Letters - Part 70 Section 1 of 2

Mon, 25 Jul 2011 16:30:48 GMT

Author: sionna_raven and valkyriekat
Title: Snacks And Letters - Part 70 first half
Word Count: 1985
Rating: PG 13

~Sirius~

I slump into an armchair.

“Believe me my longing for social events is equally limited today. I guess it won't be that bad. Ron will have told them what we have done and Molly will understand.” Severus doesn't answer. I know I'm asking a bit much, but maybe it's better to go and face the crowd than staying here remembering Reggie.

Reggie! I look at the portrait on the wall. He isn't there. Phineas is and he reluctantly divulges information.

“Regulus went to your mother's portrait, after you left. He couldn't make her talk to him. He is hiding somewhere in the house.”

I jump up and want to go looking for him, but Phineas calls after me.

“Wait, don't go! Let him be for a while. You don't have the time to really talk to him now. There's no portrait in Orion's study; he won't have to see his own body. He'll come round, when he's ready. I'll look after him, until he is.”

Severus agrees with his controlled soft voice.

“Sirius, one thing after the other. We need to change for the Weasel party. We – you have to do your duty and you promised to attend. There's time enough to deal with the sketch of Regulus, when we return. When do we have to be at the Burrow anyway?”

I look at the clock.

“Seven sharp. 20 minutes left. Can you get your robes? It's less formal than yesterday obviously, family party.”

“No problem. I have a second set at Spinner's End.”

I smile painfully. I really have no idea how I would stand it without him.

We climb up the stairs to the bedrooms.

“You can use Regulus' room again.” I say unnecessarily.

Taking a very welcome shower and get into the Muggle clothes I like to wear on such occasions. Matching of course, I lived close to them long enough not to fall for the odd habits of other wizards. I pull the frilled cuffs in place and adjust the lacing on the shirt and the side of the tight leather trousers. I almost look like a wizard.

Severus is already there, when I enter the drawing room. He strikes an impressing figure in his plain black, but definitely expensive dress robes.

“Leather again? If I didn't know you left it at the coast, I was afraid you wanted to use your motorbike.”

“My bike is back in her shed where she belongs. She has a magical homing device built-in. We don't have enough time to go by bike. The floo it is. I have chosen Muggle clothes to please Arthur.“

“This is what you consider Muggle clothes?”

“Definitely, you can check the labels. Actually Muggle clothes don't look that weird, if you know where to buy them.”

Severus seems to be amused.

“Come on, off to face the lions.”

“Morituri te salutant.”

“I've never heard that anyone has died from Molly Weasley's cooking.”

***

We fall out of the fireplace in the middle of the Burrow's kitchen crowded with Weasleys. The lively chatter stops abruptly. All eyes are set upon us, but not with yesterday's hostility. Just before the silence gets really awkward, Molly walks up to me and puts her arms around me.

“Merry Christmas, Sirius.” and then she starts sobbing.

Arthur steps up to greet Severus. Luckily he thinks the better of hugging him. He simply stretches out his hand.

“Severus, merry Christmas.” He's determined to hold Severus' gaze.

This breaks the dam to a turmoil of 'Merry Christmas' hugs for me and a bit reserved, but honestly meant handshakes for Severus.. Only Andromeda knows no reserve. He pulls us both into her arms.

“Thank you, Severus, for looking after my stupid cousin.”

I growl. “When will everybody stop appointing me a babysitter?” I mutter under my breath.

Severus smirks and whispers: “When you've finally learned to lace your shoes.”

I look down, tinsel snakes again.

“This time I'll get you for it.” I hiss.

“Wasn't me, it was her.”

Andromeda giggles.

~Severus~

Arthur let go of my hand. He has a bit of a stiff handshake, but mine wasn't surpassing it in warmth and welcome, to be sure.

I give Sirius a set of fine tinsels snake laces just to show that most everything has changed but for jinxing a Gryffindor in a house overflowing with lions. I do feel like a Gladiator in the Arena, Sirius. And everyone gets a slice of my blade.

Andromeda noticed the kick to her shin along with the false accusation. “Wasn't me...” The hell it wasn't. I have to get his goat sometimes. And not like Aberforth.

I look around and Arthur's brood is everywhere. The place is crowded and I can hear more Weasleys and hangers-on coming through from the garden. Mother-clucking Molly is telling off George for having his hand on the rib of a roast, peeling back the meat with his fingers.

“Just peckish, Mum.” He has that mischievous Weasley twin look, but when he looks away he looks downcast, angry.

I edge from the fireplace into the kitchen and lurk where George is lurking, looking sour. Sour is better than outward sentimentality. I can empathize. We stand in silence next to each other, then George speaks.

“That was decent, what Ron said you and Sirius were up to. Maybe you're not a complete ass. Maybe you're half a donkey or a third of a mule.” George's smile is a grimace.

Molly rushes around, giving us dirty looks. “This is a kitchen, not a clubhouse for useless men. You both look eternally peckish. Now out!” We scurry away from Molly, who looks concerned as she looks at George, yet resigned.

“Mum would go spare if we hadn't brought ... Fred home. So would have I and there never is closure. There isn't any, but at least there was a funeral. But I keep my pecker up somehow. The joke-shop is all right with Lee Jordan's help. I convinced him to quit his announcer job for WWN and he did it... but he's doing it for Fred.” George waves at the tall black man with dreadlocks and a very white even smile. Lee waves back.

“Should I ask Sirius...do you think I could come see his brother off? Regulus? I would like there to be support him. If it were me – if Sirius could have come to Fred's he would have. But he was still... wherever he was. Do you think I could?”

“I suggest you ask him. He's playing with Teddy in the doorway.” I don't feel like this is a Weasley I have ever met. I suppose I haven't. Quite different than the twin I remember from Potions, and the corridors, passing out Puking Pastilles and turning Montague into a canary with another trick sweet, and yet another making Theodore Nott have lips too puffed up for speech. The Bulbadox powder in my nightshirt, and the Wartcap powder in my protective dragonskin gloves.

As I remember I feel less than fond of George, and have half a mind to turn him away. It's up to Sirius.

I hear muttering from a corner, hear my name spoken in an undertone. I glance at the place my name is coming from, and see Harry and Ron with their heads together, and Ginny Potter, leaning toward them and nodding her head. Looking at “Mrs. Potter” is going to be quite hard, I see.

George turns away and slouches out of the room, shrugging his shoulders. Ronald is walking over to me and from the way he ploughs through the crowd he seems like a steamroller and about as pleasant as a demolition team. He'll be easy...

“Listen, Snape, George has enough trouble without you adding to the pile. What did you say to him?”

“I was telling him about a funeral that will be held soon. He wished to attend.” My tone is nothing less than icy and my elocution is clipped, low, penetrating.

“Is it your funeral?” Ronald is so tactless and snide I have to smile, if coldly.

“Regulus. Arcturus. Black. Name mean anything to Horcrux-hunters? You have a false idea. When you have a true idea I am quite sure everyone you have come in contact with will expire on the spot from shock. I wonder even with a Potter friend and a wife who is Senior Assistant to the Head of Magical Law Enforcement, how you ever became an Auror.”

“Bugger off, Snape. Don't expect me to feel sorry for some decaying Death Eater kid. And never sorry for you. I take back the invitation if all you are going to do is sneer and scowl from your hiding spot like some weird crab in its shell.”

“How eloquent. Your depth and breadth of feeling astonishes me. Who ever knew you were such a mental giant? You put your wife to shame.” I look over at Hermione, who is laughing with Ginny. Ginny with her lithe, athletic, slender form and vividly red hair. Graceful as the last Mrs Potter. Ronald doesn't know who I am staring at. Or glaring at, I suppose. Everyone accuses me of glowering unless I do my best to look impassive.

“You leave my wife out of this!” Ronald's ears were pinkish with drink when he came over to me. Now their scarlet hue resembles the Hogwarts Express.

“Predictable, dull, overly protective moron. Or should I call you a maroon?” Ronald is shaking. I reach over and take two goblets of mead from the plate being offered behind me.

“A toast?” I ask with both eyebrows raised, speaking in a deeply dangerous tone.

Ronald takes the goblet I offer him, looking at it as if it were poison. Like I would attempt it in a house full of Weasel-otters. Harry walks over. Oh, this is precious. I snag another goblet and pass it to Harry. “We were about to have a toast.”

Harry touches the goblet gingerly, as if it were some Muggle grenade.

“To the decent among the so-called enemy, and the enemy among the so-called decent. To Regulus Arcturus Black's honour ... and to Hermione Jean Weasley's saintly Clearance procedure.”

Ronald is shaking and goes to draw his wand. “It's merely sarcasm,” I sneer at him, my new black cotton robes with the hint at entwined serpents at the neck having a nice wand pocket that is enchanted both for protection and easy access. “A little humour.” Harry's eyes are penetrating. “Please Potter, do attempt Legilimency. I have sufficient experience to melt your miniscule mind.”

Harry steps back and looks nauseated, disgusted.

“You loved my mother? And she didn't take off your pants?” Harry hisses like a goose. Low blow. Very low.

“Your father passed on the idiocy gene and the bravery of a thousand coward's deaths for you to live out in your lifetime, any time someone mentions the Dark Lord's legacy or the Neo Death Eaters.”

“You'd know about that wouldn't you, Snape?”

“Especially as you took me seriously. There are no such things. You are vapid as a love potion in the hands of Romilda Vane.” I pause. “Gullible, very gullible, Potter. You may be of age and beyond, but you are ever the repugnant child who has no use for decency and order. No, it is beneath you as is everything. And they call Lucius entitled.”

There is a sound of a pot being banged with a large metal spoon, like a gong. “Dinner! Dinner everyone. And presents for all, to be opened after dinner.”

I am guessing I am not “all.”