#the potter malfoy problem who la hoop | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

inmyownlittlecorner5 · 4 years ago

Text

libera nos a malo chapter 8: ultimatum

A fanfic Novel by la-topolina Rated for Mature Audiences Warnings: Language, Violence, Sexual Content Chapter 8/20

libera nos a malo masterpost+ Unstoppable Force/Immovable Object masterpost+

<< Chapter Seven+

Chapter Nine+>>

Severus’s world might have ended the night before, and his head might feel like an overripe watermelon liable to split open at the slightest provocation, and he might be operating on a single hour of broken sleep, but none of this changed the fact that he was expected in the Great Hall at ten o’clock in the morning to baby-sit a group of inept teenagers attempting to bungle their way through an Apparition lesson. Every step he took as he slunk up the winding staircase from his pit of despair sent a fresh jolt of pain lashing through his already pounding skull. His stomach was roiling from the quantity of gin he’d fed it during the small hours of the morning, (gin was now on the list of liquor he would never touch again, right under pálinka) along with the Hang Over Potion and black coffee he’d forced on it this morning (how could Miranda stand to drink coffee every day?)

The internal critique of Miranda’s drinking habits was quickly replaced by the memory of how wide her eyes had been when he’d cut her to the quick less than twelve hours prior, and his stomach dropped violently as he once again replayed the whole wretched scene. Humiliation and guilt wrapped themselves around his heart, strangling him with their familiar fingers. A new throbbing from a fresh and dripping wound joined them; for surely if he ever saw Miranda again, it would only be to formally end their volatile association. He knew what came of offering apologies to furious women.

As he gained the top of the staircase, a snarl of angry voices derailed his brooding. It did no favors for his headache or his nerves, but his smarting conscience was eager for any distraction, however unpleasant. A tangle of students had formed around the quarreling parties, and as he cut through them, he was unsurprised to see Draco Malfoy sneering at a red-faced Harry Potter. Did the brats never tire of baiting one another?

“…were you doing on the seventh floor Malfoy,” Harry spat, his glasses slipping down to the end of his nose.

“I don’t know who died and made you the keeper of the school,” Draco replied. His voice was cool, but Severus could hear the edge in it, and he knew that the boy was close to losing his temper. “Are you keen for Filch’s job when you graduate? Maybe you can be his assistant, I hear you’re already a master at scrubbing bedpans.”

Severus was within arm’s reach of the boys, neither of whom seemed to notice his approach. Harry was in the midst of some retort that had both adversaries reaching for their wands; but Severus could not make out what it was the infant was saying. At that moment Harry’s eyes were flashing like Lily’s often had when she’d been in a high temper. Severus was frozen by them, unable to cope with the fresh flood of grief that washed over him.

For the last fifteen years, the sole purpose of his life had been to ensure that the Boy Who Lived continued to do so. Now he knew that this had been yet one more wasted purpose, for in a cruel twist of fate it seemed he was only meant to keep the boy alive in order to present the child for sacrifice at the proper moment. Albus’s dupe once more, Severus stood face to face with his failure now, this boy who wore Lily’s eyes, and felt the earth shift beneath his feet. Students buzzed around him like so many flies, eager to see the altercation escalate to a brawl, and as he fought to maintain control of his countenance a deep, cold anger coiled itself around his grief. He felt his lip curl, and he opened his mouth to vent some of his unbearable anguish on the students before him, when a mousey Slytherin darted out of the shadows to defuse the situation.

“Draco!” said Cassandra Borgin as she inserted herself between the warring factions. “I’m so glad I caught you. I have a question about Professor Slughorn’s assignment and I was hoping you could explain it to me before the lesson starts.”

Draco and Harry continued to glare at each other, even as Cassandra took Draco’s arm and began pulling him inside the Great Hall—but the spell was broken. The rest of the students broke off into their own conversations, and Harry and Severus were swept into the room with the rest of the group. Severus’s attention was fixed on Harry, who shot daggers at his professor with those cursed green eyes until the Weasley boy and the Granger girl pulled him away to a trio of empty hoops in the far corner, whispering furiously as they did. Severus stalked to the front of the room to take his place beside the other heads of house, and the bland ministry worker tasked with training this year’s Apparition aspirants, feeling quite ready to be ill all over the stone floor. As the ministry worker launched into a review of the last lesson (why bother reviewing—the lessons were all the same, and talking about Apparition never made it any easier) Severus attempted to compensate for his suddenly precarious balance by leaning against the wall without appearing to do so. Minerva’s sharp eyes were not fooled by his feigned nonchalance, and she edged close enough to him for a whispered conversation.

“Is something amiss?” asked Minerva, her eyes firmly on the students.

“Nothing that need concern you,” he replied. Merlin, how he would like to enlighten Minerva as to the Potter boy’s fate, and set her on Albus like an avenging angel of doom.

“Somehow I do not find that reassuring.”

“It wasn’t meant to be.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” She gave him a sidelong look, but changed the subject without pressing for further information. “Albus wished for me to pass on his request for your help this week. It concerns Remus Lupin and the American witch Miranda Rose.”

His stomach lurched again, and he vowed that the instant this lesson was over, he would be taking himself to Albus’s office to demand that they find a better way, both for the Potter problem and for the werewolf disaster waiting to happen. Surely between his brains and Albus’s experience they could come up with some other option.

“Did he?” he said in a carefully neutral tone. “I shall go up and ask him about it after lesson.”

Minerva pursed her lips. “Don’t bother. He’s gone off again, and he didn’t say when he’d be back. I don’t suppose you have any idea where he keeps going?”

Damn him. “No. Not in the least.”

“Mark my words, Severus, this chronic secrecy is going to be the death of us.”

He had no desire to contemplate how prescient he suspected her prophesy was, and he closed his eyes briefly as a chill melancholy set in.

“I am at your disposal, Minerva,” he said, making no effort to hide the bitterness in his voice. “Simply ask and I will be there.”

A shrill cry rent the tension in the air, and Severus’s taut reflexes sent him across the room before the first shriek could die away. Lavender Brown was swaying dizzily inside her hoop, looking round stupidly for her pinky finger, and screaming in terror. Severus snatched up the finger and began chanting the spell to reattach it. The entire operation took less than a minute, and it took ten times as long to quiet the overwrought Gryffindor.

If only he might reassemble his own life mangled life half so easily.

*****

Miranda approached Number Twelve Grimmauld Place late on Wednesday, cloaked in righteous anger and more than a little buzzed from an evening at Prospero’s night club. The dancing, darts, and drinking had done nothing to sooth her fury or her pain on this evening—or any other evening since Severus’s decision to rip her still-beating heart out of her chest—but she continued to attend the den of questionable repute with the devotion of a convert. She was like a shark, constantly moving out of necessity rather than desire; and like a shark, she was more than ready to bite.

“Filth! Impurity!” cried the matron in the portrait guarding the front door to the tattered building.

“Shut up,” Miranda replied, blowing a line of smoke into the painted face as she went by.

“Why, I never…” the portrait coughed, but Miranda didn’t wait to hear anymore complaints.

She let her steps fall loudly on the stairs as she went down into the basement kitchen, pausing only to crush one cigarette butt beneath the heel of her boot and light another before entering the fire-lit glow of the Order’s makeshift headquarters. Auror Moody was deep in conversation with Minerva, but his enchanted eye whirred around to take note of Miranda’s presence (and, she suspected, scan her for unexpected surprises). An ill-looking Remus and a morose Tonks sat across from each other at the rough table, talking quietly, even as they pointedly avoided each other’s eyes. Remus glanced up at Miranda, and she took this for invitation to join the conversation (or perhaps to rescue him from it).

As she slid into the empty seat at the head of the table, she realized that the Order member she’d vainly hoped to avoid was present, lurking in a shadowy corner with his arms crossed. She felt his black eyes on her before she saw him, and though her face flushed from anger and frustration, she refused to give him the pleasure of acknowledging his pointed stare. Remus’s nose twitched as she exhaled a cloud of smoke, and he stifled a cough.

“Must you smoke down here?” he grumbled.

“Tonight?” Miranda replied. “I’m afraid so. How are you Auror Tonks?”

“Fine,” Tonks said with a half-hearted shrug.

“Happy to hear it. How goes the patrol at the school?”

“Fine. Things have been quiet.”

Tonks’s reply was cagey enough to catch Miranda’s attention, and if she’d been more sober, or less angry, she might have taken the time to suss out why. Minerva took charge of the room before the American could gather the will to delve into someone else’s problems.

“That will be all Alastor,” Minerva said. “Thank you.”

“Watch this one, Minerva,” Alastor said, his eye still fixed on Miranda. “She’s a slippery witch if ever I saw one.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing, Auror Moody,” Miranda said, tapping the end of her cigarette and letting the ash fall haphazardly on the table.

“No, it’s a useful thing, so long as it’s being used for your side. Good night.”

Alastor tromped out of the room, his uneven gait echoing on the stairs after him. Minerva gazed calmly at the remaining group, ensuring she had everyone’s attention before she continued speaking; the consummate professor. Remus and Tonks sat up straighter as her eyes passed over them, and Miranda sank back in her chair in defiance. Severus kept to his place in the corner, one hand resting on a counter and his fingers tapping restlessly, betraying his discomfort. Good. He deserved to feel uncomfortable—and worse.

“Thank you for taking the time to be here tonight, I realize that each of you is carrying a heavy load,” Minerva began, “and so I will be brief.”

“That’s appreciated. I’m supposed to go on shift in an hour,” Miranda said.

“It will go more quickly the less you interrupt,” Minerva replied.

“Right, right,” Miranda muttered.

“I’ve asked you here to request your participation in a test mission on Saturday evening. You will be relieved of any other duties that may conflict with this, on Albus’s orders,” Minerva explained.

“What sort of test?” Miranda asked.

“Miranda, let her talk,” Remus said.

“I’m not stopping her,” Miranda protested.

“Miranda, please,” Minerva chided.

Miranda glared, but bit her tongue. Severus had yet to say a single word, and his enigmatic gaze was driving her insane.

“For those of you who may not be aware, Saturday is the full moon,” Minerva continued. “It is Albus’s plan for Miranda and Remus to spend Saturday night testing their ability to work together as wolf and animagus.”

“How nice for them,” Tonks said irritably.

Minerva ignored her. “Severus, Tonks: Albus would like for you both to be on hand that night, to help ensure Miranda’s safety.”

“There’s no need to waste everyone’s time like this,” Miranda said. “I’m ready, I don’t need to be baby-sat.”

“If you weren’t ready, we wouldn’t be discussing this at all,” Minerva replied.

“I’m sure that Auror Tonks and Professor Snape have better things they could be doing,” Miranda argued. “There’s no need to put that many cooks in the kitchen.”

“You might not see a need, but I do,” Remus said. “I don’t expect there to be any trouble, but if there is, I don’t need eating you to be on my conscience. Besides, you’d probably give me indigestion.”

Miranda snorted. “That’s for certain. Fine. Whatever. Do what you want.”

“How kind of you to give us your permission,” Minerva said.

“Just tell me when and where, so I can get going,” Miranda said.

“You’ll be starting at the Shrieking Shack in Hogsmeade. Be there an hour before sundown,” Minerva replied.

“We’re going to be stuck indoors all night? That sounds like a recipe for disaster,” Miranda objected.

“When and if Tonks and I have discerned that the situation is under control, we will release you to the Forbidden Forest,” Severus said.

His voice sent a chill down her spine, and whether it was from pleasure or pain she could not tell. She held his gaze in silence for a long moment, and then ground out her cigarette on the table top.

“Peachy,” she said, rising from her chair. “I’ll be there. Is there anything else?”

“Not at the moment,” Minerva replied. “And Miranda, don’t be late.”

“I hear you. Goodnight.”

Miranda started for the exit and heard Minerva fall into conversation with Remus and Tonks. When Severus did not appear to join them, she took the stairs two at a time, fleeing from him even before she could confirm that he was planning to follow her. By the time she hit the street outside the house, she was running shamelessly, heading for the alley. As she rounded the corner, she caught a flash of a black cloak and heard her name spoken by a silky voice, but she vanished—hurling herself into the blackness of Apparition and escape.

*****

Miranda spent the night at the Lee’s flat at Aaron’s insistence. She had yet to share any of the recent events regarding Severus with her old friend, but he knew her well enough to see that she was skirting the line between recklessness and insanity a little too closely for prudence. She slept late, and though she was groggy in the morning, she was pleased to have escaped the headache that often accompanied too many nights of hard living. Rachel made her green tea and buttered toast, and talked of family affairs and Onymoji history. When Maggie woke from her morning nap, the three of them went down to the subterranean play park a few floors beneath Aaron’s office.

It was a slow day at the park, and Maggie was soon toddling between charmed toadstools that blew bubbles and giggled as she passed. Rachel and Miranda claimed a bench nearby, watching as Maggie popped bubbles and drummed on the toadstools to her heart’s content.

“I’m not trying to mother you, but Aaron wanted me to ask if everything was alright,” Rachel said when they were settled. “I think he was worried that something happened back home that you haven’t mentioned yet.”

“No, everyone’s fine, as far as I know,” Miranda replied lightly.

“I’m glad. I told him he didn’t need to fret.”

Miranda gave a mechanical laugh. “I hope he listened. Fussiness doesn’t suit him.”

“I wouldn’t call him fussy,” Rachel countered. “I think he’s just realized that no one lives forever. Something about becoming a father put things in a new perspective for him.”

“I’m sure that happens to a lot of men.”

Maggie toddled over with a fist full of daisies, and Miranda started braiding them together to keep her trembling hands busy. Usually she could keep Isaac’s memory locked in the back of her mind and never think of him, but since Severus had thrust the child mercilessly back into her awareness, she’d been unable to push the thoughts of her boy aside.

“Did you and Severus do anything special for Valentine’s Day?” asked Rachel innocently.

Miranda ripped the head off of one of the daisies, crushing it in her fist without thinking. “You could say that.”

Rachel’s smile fell from her face. “Uh oh. Do you want to talk about what happened?”

“Not really.”

“Do you need to talk about what happened?”

“No.”

“What did he do?”

Miranda threw the crushed flower on the dirt floor and sucked in the dry air like a drowning woman.

“When I was in Romania, I wound up telling Catalina a little about Isaac. Just when he was born and his name. I didn’t tell her anything else about him, and she apparently assumed that he was alive somewhere.” Miranda’s words rushed out with dispassionate haste, as though she were describing something that had happened a lifetime ago to someone else entirely.

“That was brave of you,” Rachel said kindly.

“It was stupid of me,” Miranda countered. “She told Severus about Isaac. I don’t know when, and I don’t know what all she said, but he’s been sitting there for months, thinking that I have a kid back in the States that not only have I been hiding from him, but that I’ve also not seen for the nearly two years I’ve been here.”

“Oh dear.��

“I mean, what kind of shit mother did he think I was? And how dare he sit there judging me because of some story he’d made up in his head that isn’t even true?”

She punched the park bench and one of her knuckles split just as Maggie teetered off the top of a toadstool and started to wail. Rachel hopped off the bench and scooped up her little one, bringing her back to nurse and comfort. By the time mother and child were in order, Miranda felt she’d regained control of at least her voice, if not her temper.

“He shouldn’t have made up stories about you,” Rachel said. “That was very wrong.”

“It was surreal,” Miranda replied. “I thought he’d come over to talk to me about some meeting with Albus that had gone sour, and instead he was there to accuse me of lying to him and being the most heartless mother ever to walk the face of the earth.”

“That’s horrible.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever forget the tone of his voice when he said it. Why didn’t you tell me? It was a real shit-show.”

“Did he apologize? Not that it would make it right, but it might mitigate the revenge I’ll have to extract as your friend.”

“No, I didn’t let him. I threw him out, and I’ve been avoiding him since then.”

Soothed from her misadventure, Maggie let go of her mother’s breast and squirmed down to go in search of more bubbles to pop. Rachel took a moment to put her clothing back in order before she spoke again.

“You mentioned that Severus had just come from a bad meeting with Albus,” Rachel began carefully.

“Oh, so now you’re taking his side?” Miranda snapped.

“No, I’m not. I’m just trying to understand what happened.”

Miranda closed her eyes, still struggling to breathe around the anger and pain that choked her. “Yes, Albus did him dirty right before he came over. I’m finding that Albus is one of those employers that you have to watch your back around.”

“I’m sorry to hear that; I know the type. But being upset doesn’t give Severus the excuse to take it out on you, especially in a way he must have known was likely to hurt you.”

“I don’t think he cares who he hurts.”

“I don’t know if that’s true, and I’m not saying that you have to forgive him. But—when you’re ready—I think you should give him the chance to apologize. If only to give you some closure.”

“I’ll think about it.”

Rachel reached across the bench and very gently took Miranda’s hand in hers. The kindness of the gesture cut Miranda to her heart, almost as painfully as Severus’s cruel words had.

“I’m also wondering—and forgive me if it’s none of my business—but why didn’t you tell him before?”

“What do you mean?” She knew exactly what Rachel meant, but God she didn’t want to go down this road with her.

“About Isaac. It was awful what happened to him and to you, but it’s one of the major events of your life. You’ve been close with Severus for a year and a half now. I guess I’m a little surprised that you never talked about it with him before now.”

Miranda snatched her hand out of Rachel’s like she was snatching it out of a fire.

“We don’t talk about things like that. Never have,” she shrugged.

“What do you talk about?”

Rachel was the only person of Miranda’s acquaintance who could have asked that question without sounding accusatory.

“Everything else. Books. Music. The exceptions to Gamp’s Law of Elemental Transfiguration. If it’s possible to actively choose to be a nihilist. I’ve told him lots of funny stories about school and growing up, and he’s told me a few of his own that were obviously curated not to make him look like an idiot. I mean, I did enough investigating when I met him to put together a decent timeline of his life, and I’m sure he’s done the same to me, but we’ve never actually talked about any of it.”

“Spying on each other, how romantic.”

“Well, maybe it is.”

“I wasn’t judging. How do you manage to keep up a relationship if you don’t talk about anything personal?”

Miranda bristled. “Not everyone is perfect like you and Aaron. Some of us have been through a lot of shit and we don’t want to talk about it.”

Rachel absorbed the blow stoically. “Talking about things is part of how you heal from them. I know, because Aaron and I aren’t perfect, and we’ve been through our share of shit too.”

“I’m sorry, that wasn’t fair of me to say.”

“It’s okay, I understand.”

“I just don’t know if I can stand to talk about any of this with Severus. I can’t even talk about it with you, and you’re the nicest person in the world.”

“I don’t know about that," Rachel laughed. "I’m not going to tell you what you have to do, but I don’t see how you can stay with Severus if you don’t talk at least a little about important things like this.”

“Maybe I don’t want to. I was doing fine on my own.”

“You were in a lot of ways.”

“Why am I sensing a but at the end of that statement?”

“Because you’re prescient. I guess I got the impression that lately you seemed a little more stable than you used to.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean that after David and Isaac passed, you seemed a little out of control. Almost like you didn’t care what happened to you—or maybe you even wanted to die. There was a wildness that was even more reckless than your usual wonderful, impulsive self. But since I’ve seen you with Severus, it’s seemed, to me at least, that you didn’t need to push yourself to cope anymore. You didn’t need to stay out all night for weeks on end, or chase danger constantly. There was an alertness about you, like you were waking up for the first time in a long while.”

“I don’t know if I want to wake up,” Miranda admitted quietly.

“I don’t blame you, it’s scary. But think about it before you make any final decisions.”

Miranda put her head in her hands and blew out the breath she’d been holding. “Why do you always have to make so much sense?”

“It’s a personal failing. I’m not saying that you have to stay with him, and I’ll support you either way. I just want you to be sure, whatever you choose.”

Maggie’s shrieks of laughter reached them, and they looked up to see her splashing into the fishpond, clothing and all. Rachel darted off the bench after her, and Miranda slumped back listlessly, wrung out by the warring emotions that were fighting for her soul. She supposed that she would eventually listen to whatever Severus had to say for himself. But she had no idea where to go from there, and it scared her. Losing David and Isaac had nearly killed her, and she’d promised that she would never put herself in that sort of vulnerable position again. And yet, here she was, in love with an ass of an Englishman who was in danger up to his eyeballs.

God, what an idiot she was.

*****

In spite of Minerva’s orders, as sundown approached on the night of the full moon, Severus, Tonks, and Remus were missing one American witch. The three of them were gathered in one of the decaying bedrooms of the Shrieking Shack, and Severus was doing his best to ignore the montage of vile memories that simply standing in the cursed place brought to the fore of his mind. Remus was pacing like the caged wolf that he was, while Tonks looked on, her hair flashing from mousey brown to a dull red as her temper grew thin.

“Looks like the Yank got cold feet,” Tonks said irritably.

“She’ll show,” Remus replied. “You don’t know her.”

“And you do?”

“Well enough to know that she’ll show.”

“Well, if she doesn’t…”

“That’s enough, Tonks.”

Tonk’s hair flamed bright red for an instant at the rebuke, but as the door clanged open to admit the American in question, she crossed her arms and checked her retort.

“Sorry. Something came up,” Miranda said as she came into the room.

“Do I need to know about it?” Remus asked.

Miranda shook her head. “No, just another customer who thinks his time is more important than mine. What’s the plan?”

“You shift to animagus. Severus and Tonks put themselves out of reach, but not too far, and we hold our breath,” Remus explained.

Miranda’s eyes darted briefly to meet Severus’s, and he wondered if she’d delayed her arrival to avoid speaking with him yet again.

“Thrilling.” Miranda gave Severus and Tonks a mocking salute, and as her arm came down her body contorted and shrank until she’d become a bobcat before their eyes.

“It’s time, I can feel it coming,” Remus said.

“Dare I ask if you’ve remembered to take your Wolfsbane Potion?” Severus asked.

“Why do you think you’re both here?” Remus replied.

“Come on, Snape,” Tonks said, heading for the door.

Miranda the bobcat was prowling the floor, and Severus watched her until Remus started to groan with the pain of the impending transformation. With a frustrated snarl, he followed Tonks out of the room, throwing the door shut behind him and reinforcing it with a shield charm. When the barricade was ready, he pulled a Graeae’s Eye from his robes and began to thread it through the crack between the top of the door and the doorframe. It was a tedious job, requiring more than a little coaxing lest the cornea tear and render the thing useless. Remus’s howls had taken on a distinctly lupine tenor by the time he managed complete his task.

“Are they alright?” demanded Tonks, hovering around his elbow and trying to share the end of the optic fiber (never mind that these contraptions were only designed for one person to use at a time).

“Nothing has happened yet,” Severus replied, resisting the urge to shove the witch out of his space, but only just.

The inhuman baying from the locked room finally ceased, overtaken by a deadly silence. Severus muttered a curse, as they had neglected to leave a single candle burning in the room, and the uncooperative moon was at the wrong angle to shed much light on whatever was happening within.

“Well?” Tonks said.

“Silence,” Severus ordered.

“You don’t have to be an arse about it. Give me a turn with the Eye and I won't have to keep asking you.”

“Precisely nothing is happening. Now be quiet.”

There was a scratching of claws across the wooden floor, and Miranda crept out of the shadows towards Remus. He snarled at her and snapped his teeth, and she arched her back, hissing and spitting. Severus’s wand was in his hand, and he was about to fling open the door, when Remus lowered his head to the ground. Miranda padded over to him, rubbing her forehead against his, and Severus let out the breath he’d been holding.

“Snape!” Tonks said.

“It would appear that Lupin has decided not to devour Miss Rose,” Severus replied. “At least, not at the moment.”

“We should let them out then, before he gets too agitated.”

Severus was dreading this part of the evening, but there was no avoiding it now. “Indeed.”

“Don’t look so glum, Snape,” Tonks said as she took up her broom and started down the corridor. “It’ll be fun.”

“I don’t have fun.”

Tonks’s mocking laugh followed her down the stairs and out of the Shack. Severus began counting the seconds until he might be reasonably sure that the Metamorph was in place. The werewolf and the animagus were beginning to prowl about the room irritably, but they thankfully made no move to vent this irritation on each other. Yet.

“Merlin, watch over her,” he murmured, and flicked his wand to open the window inside the room.

The captives bounded out to freedom almost the instant he’d opened the way. Heart pounding, he hastily wound up the Eye, unbarred the door, and dashed to the window. Remus and Miranda were loping towards the forest at break-neck speed, with Tonks keeping pace overhead on her broom. He swung out of the window and onto his own broom, which he gripped nervously in his white-knuckled fists. Flying on a broom was awkward and unwieldy; nothing at all like the thrill of unsupported flight. Unfortunately, unsupported flight was far too draining to use for an entire night’s watch. Especially if he might be called upon to subdue a werewolf.

He caught up to Tonks and the lunatics below as they entered the edge of the Forest. Remus and Miranda were bounding around like playful puppies, chasing each other through the underbrush and over the fallen trees. Tonks was watching them with an oddly benevolent expression on her face, and she even smiled at Severus when he drew his broom up next to hers.

“It’s nice to see him happy,” she said. “Being alone during the change is so hard on him.”

“If he takes it in his head to eat Miss Rose, I shall think his happiness comes at too dear a price,” he replied.

Tonks bristled. “That’s why we’re here, isn’t it?”

“If he’d taken the Wolfsbane, then it wouldn’t be an issue. But, then, he’s always been careless about such minor details as endangering the lives of others.”

“For someone who’s as familiar with the Wolfsbane Potion as you are, I would think that you’d understand that the side effects of it are nothing to scoff at. If I were in Remus’s shoes, I wouldn’t be so quick to swallow it either.”

With this she shot off into the forest, and he swung his broom in a wide path around her, fuming at her foolish words. He was well aware of the drawbacks of the potion—nausea, weakness, confusion—and he knew that taking it made experiencing the transformation to wolf all the more painful. But allowing a werewolf to romp freely, devouring people who wandered into his path was simply not acceptable.

It was a long and tedious night—though thankfully, an uneventful one. The greatest excitement came when Remus and Miranda felled a deer to feast upon. It was freezing and Severus spent many hours numb from the cold and the effort of maintaining his seat on his broom. Tonks refused to speak to him, for which he was grateful.

Dawn came darkly in the forest, its rosy hue obscured by the dense tree branches overhead. The first indication that they had of its approach was Remus’s whimpering. Miranda scampered to his side, and he snapped at her at last, missing her leg by a whisker. Severus was on the ground in an instant, and only the knowledge that Tonks was watching kept him from sending a hex in retaliation. A potent brew of fury was bubbling up through his veins, fed by innumerable slights and hurts—but he restrained himself to casting a Shield Charm strong enough to shove the werewolf back. Miranda hissed at him, but he ignored her, outwardly calm and immovable as a statue, whatever the turmoil of his heart.

Within seconds, Remus was contorting back into human form, and Severus lowered the now unnecessary Charm. Tonks landed lightly beside him, and for once the werewolf did not protest her affections as she helped him gather himself back to some semblance of order. Miranda shifted up to her natural form behind Severus, only to fall back heavily against a wide tree trunk, gasping from the long night’s effort.

“See,” she said between pants, “everything was right as rain.”

“You did well,” Remus agreed, his eyes glinting at her across the forest path. “I think you’re ready.”

“I told you I was. Now go get some rest.”

He gave a weary laugh. “Yes, mother. Let’s go Tonks.”

Tonks gave Severus and Miranda a parting glare as she and Remus vanished with a loud crack that startled the birds from their nests. Severus and Miranda were alone at last for the first time since his horrific blunder, and for a moment he was unsure what to do with the boon.

“I’m not afraid of you, you know,” Miranda said, breaking the uneasy silence.

He turned slowly to face her and felt his lip curve into a bitter smirk. “Obviously.”

When she did not attempt to stand, he hesitantly came to her and knelt by her side. Her gray eyes were hard with anger, but he did not look away from them. He pulled a chilled vial from his robes, and held it out to her, a peace offering, if a paltry one.

“What’s this?” she asked.

“A variant on the Strengthening Solution. Minerva mentioned that staying so long in the animagus form would be taxing for the first few times you attempted it. This should mitigate most of that trouble,” he replied.

She stared at him silently for so long that he began to believe that she was going to refuse his efforts, and he tried unsuccessfully to swallow this rejection. But then she reached out and took it, drinking the amber liquid without further question. He knew that within minutes she would be well enough to flee from him. It was time to say whatever he had to say to her lest the opportunity never pass his way again.

“Miranda, I wish to tell you how deeply I regret what passed between us at your cabin a week ago,” he said, his words raw with forcing them through his clenched throat.

“That’s nice,” she replied. “Seems to me that if you regret it so much, you might have avoided doing it in the first place.”

He bent his head, accepting the words as a blow. “I am aware of that. I find it mortifying to have made such an amateurish mistake as believing Dragnea’s words without investigation. If I had performed even a cursory search, I might have spared us both much grief."

This appeared to be the wrong thing to say.

“That’s it? You’re sorry because you’re embarrassed? You’re a real peace of work, Severus.”

“No!” he protested quickly. “I’m sorry because I hurt you. I…ought not to have done it.”

She blinked at him, stunned. “Did you just apologize?”

“I believe that is what it is called in the vernacular.” The bite of sarcasm was creeping back into his voice, his only shield against his impending doom.

“No, shh,” she said, laying a finger over his lips. “Don’t say anymore, you’ll ruin it.”

He hadn’t realized until this moment how starved he was for her touch, and when she pulled her hand away from his mouth it took every ounce of his will to restrain himself from leaning towards her in an attempt to maintain contact.

“I accept your apology. I forgive you, even. But that doesn’t change the fact that it happened.” Her eyes dropped to the empty vial in her hand, and when she looked back at him, they were full of sorrow. “The truth is, we have some serious problems. And I don’t know if they’re worth fixing.”

“I see.” Dread was opening its loathsome maw beneath him, and he was in free fall.

“I’m not sure you do.” She handed him back the vial, and he closed his fingers mechanically around it. “I need some more time to think. I’m leaving for a gig in Ireland on Monday. When I get back, we can talk and decide what we’re going to do.”

“I don’t like it.”

“I didn’t expect you to. We don’t have to talk about it at all; I’m not going to force you. I’m just telling you what I need.”

Part of him wished to tell her to go to the devil to spare himself the agony of waiting; but his desire to cling to whatever scraps of their association she might deign to give him was stronger still. He was trapped, and he knew it.

“As you like.”

“Thanks, I know that probably wasn’t easy for you to say. I’ll see you when I get back.”

“Yes, you will.”

Her face softened briefly, and then she closed her eyes and vanished like the morning mist that burns away under the harsh light of day. Severus knelt on the forest floor for a long time after she was gone, his body far too heavy to move. The worst of it was, he’d dug this grave with his own two hands.

He had no one but himself to blame.

*****

libera nos a malo masterpost+ Unstoppable Force/Immovable Object masterpost+

<< Chapter Seven+

Chapter Nine+ >>

#pro snape #snape x oc #ocappreciation #severus snape fanfic #severus snape fanfiction #inmyownlittlecorner5

2 notes · View notes