Forgiveness

Thanks to Jilliane and Ultrazipped for their reviews.

Ultrazipped: No, Percy did not take the Dark Mark. He was used in his capacity as the Minister's assistant to maintain intelligence on the workings of the Ministry. He had split with his family during the Crouch affair. He at no time, in this story or any future stories, became a Deathe Eater.

This chapter beta'ed by Drusilla of Perfect Imagination.


Forgiveness

Chapter 17

It had been three days since he sat outside the Gryffindor common room like a damned fool for hours after Lily had refused his apology. He was destroyed, and he had been his own instrument of that destruction.

His life had become the library and Slytherin. As he entered the common room just before curfew, he moved through the green and silver furnishings, heedless of the lone occupants of that room. Most did not approve of his parentage and his appearance. He would show them and Lily, too. He would distinguish himself either in the world at large, or within the smaller circle of the Eaters of Death. Lucius might be able to get him admittance and possibly more. The thought only made him want to cry, however. He would sleep before he made his plans. As the thought struck him, a familiar, cultured voice uttered, "Snape."

Severus swung around, wand drawn, unwilling to let his guard down lest the dams on his tightly-held tears break, and he make a fool out of himself in front of the former Prefect. "Lucius, what brings you here? Surely the Board of Governors didn't require yours or your father's presence at this late date."

"I was waiting for you, Severus." The Malfoy heir patted the seat beside him, his face a mask of cool civility. Severus felt compelled to comply. Lucius Malfoy was a high-ranking member of the newly dubbed Death Eaters, and his only friend, it seemed. Lucius handed a small flask to Severus. "I heard about the Mudblood. Good riddance to bad rubbish, I say, my friend."

Severus shrugged, his gesture a mute testament to his pain. Lucius waited as the boy drank and then choked on the Firewhisky in the container. "Have you come to gloat, Lucius?"

"Never, old boy." Lucius took the flask back, flicking his wand over the lip fastidiously before he drank from it. "I have come to tell you of my impending marriage to one Narcissa Black."

"Let's hope she's not as mad as her sisters, Lucius." Severus' tone was dry, but his heart beat bitterly at the news. Lucius, it seemed, would have it all while Severus gleaned the scraps at life's table.

"That was bad form, old man." Lucius pouted. The expression might have been effective had Severus been female and prepubescent. The dark boy rolled his eyes expressively and Lucius laughed aloud, drawing frowns from younger students who were involved in their studies nearby. "Very well, I shall forgive you, if you will promise to attend the nuptials."

"I don't know." Severus took the flask again. "You know Tobias, and his... temper. Mum's been ill."

"There are ways, old man, to get what you want. You just need to associate with the right people." Lucius smiled lazily. "Of course, Sevvie, since he is your father, you might want less extreme measures to deal with him than I might recommend."

Severus snorted, feeling the alcohol burning in his veins and his mental anguish fade to a manageable throb. "As if they would do anything for you, Lucy. You haven't even deigned to join them."

"One should never make assumptions." Lucius bristled. "And don't call me by that disgusting name."

"Only if you no longer call me Sevvie... really Lucius, someone might think you were fonder of me than is strictly necessary." Severus sneered and took one more, long draw from the flask. "Show me."

&*&*&

Severus lingered on Antonia's porch, still reeling from the turn the evening had taken. He turned away from the door when it opened. "Oh, for heaven’s sake, Severus, come in. Let's talk about this."

Antonia held open the screen door in anticipation of his compliance. "Please. I don't want to end the evening like this with you."

The Potions Master entered the room with great reluctance. He stood by the door to the parlour, crossing his arms forbiddingly. "I have nothing to say, Antonia."

"Really?" Antonia brushed past him and sat on the couch. "So, having nothing to say, you decided to lurk on my porch. It is a nice porch, but really not lurk-worthy."

Severus glared at her as she patted the seat next to her. He let his arms fall to his side. "I do admit that I was dissatisfied about certain aspects of the conversation."

"You don't say." Antonia pulled a small, fringed throw pillow into her lap and began running her fingers through the material on the edge of the pillow nervously. "Please, sit down, Severus. You're making me feel like I'm a student who's in trouble with you glaring down your nose like that."

"Very well, Madam." Severus eased onto the surface she indicated, his back rigid and unbending.

Antonia took his hand, after prying it from his knee. "Look, Severus, I really like you..."

Severus remained impassive. He had been the recipient of this speech before and knew where it would end. After a few moments of stilted silence, Antonia continued. "You're waiting for me to say 'but', aren't you? Don't deny it. I can see the resignation in your eyes.

"I wish I knew who convinced you that you weren't worth the effort, Severus. I really do." Antonia drew near him and before Severus could withdraw, she put her arm around him. "Whoever she was didn't have any taste."

Severus relaxed against her heat involuntarily, his expression still impassive, but his heart suddenly beating a rapid tattoo against his ribs. He exerted iron control over his chaotic emotions. "I have no need for your pity, Madam, or your burgeoning romantic feelings for my tortured soul and misunderstood past."

"That's good, because I don't give pity fucks," Antonia shot back. "And I certainly don't believe you were ever innocent or misunderstood. You're too much of a bastard for anyone to believe that."

"I admire your vocabulary," Severus snarked. "Perhaps you might throw in more blue language to suit your American sense of savoir vivre."

Severus stared at the doctor, appalled, as she laughed. "See? That's why I like you. You always know just what to say, and just the way to say it."

Severus felt his lips twitching in answer to her amusement. "You know you are quite mad, don't you?"

"Yes." Antonia smirked. "So, do you want us to continue? Maybe ask me out on a date?"

Severus drew a calming breath through his nose then answered, "Antonia, as much as I desire to continue as we have, I must admit that I am uncomfortable with the situation as it stands."

"In what way, Severus?"

Severus fought the squirming panic that rose at the thought of admitting to weakness. The desire to flee was reflexive as he struggled against any maudlin revelation of his past. Antonia waited, patient and unmoving, her keen, raptor gaze turned away from him. He suspected she knew his difficulty. He stood and strode to the mantle on which sat an elegant, antique timepiece. It appeared to be Muggle-made and of heirloom quality. He placed his hand on the wood below the clock, attempting to steady his quaking limbs. After a few painfully purchased moments, he uttered, "My parents were not the most pleasant people. They fought constantly. I do not wish to engage in that type of behaviour, and I certainly do not want my charges exposed to such negativity. I have already begun to curb my own foul temper around them, but I cannot seem to guard my tongue around you. I have little experience with women, and less with what our relationship might become.

"Should you wish to continue with this, I ask that you refrain from comments about issues with my charges.” Severus leaned toward the clock, engrossed in the works within. “I have been both a professor and mentor. I have moulded a generation of young minds, yet I have no idea what it takes to be a parent. My own parents were...” Nightmares his mind supplied. “We had a difficult relationship, to say the very least. I can truthfully say that I learned nothing of caring and...” Severus sneered, “nurturing. They engendered a deep distrust in me of...”

Severus jerked into the mantle as Antonia’s arm encircled his waist. She pressed her face to his back. He trembled as she stroked his belly and chest. “I understand, Severus. And believe me, I have some reservations about Joseph Pony seeing Charmaine, too. Just understand, even though I talk to you about your children, I’m not trying to interfere. You’re doing a bang-up job with them.”

"I shall endeavour not to take your irreverent attitude and managing as criticism," Severus replied as he swivelled in her anchoring arms. “I have deep reservations about my ability to... not harm them in some material way. Thank you, Antonia, for that vote of confidence.”

“You’re welcome, ‘Rus.” She peered up at him with lash-veiled eyes. “Anything else that you want to say?”

Severus placed his hands on her shoulders, his tone solemn. “Three things, Antonia. I would like to speak to your father so that I might respectfully court you...”

“Sure thing. “ Antonia covered a titter as if it were a cough. “And the other two?”

“Upon obtaining your father’s permission, I would be honoured if you would accompany me to the cinema and perhaps dinner.” Severus felt his cheeks heat and twitch upward, the beginnings of an unaccustomed smile. “And, I would prefer that you call me Severus. I have never been one for pet names.”

“There you go again, all Old World and Potion-Mastery on me, just the way I like you.” Antonia burst into peals of laughter. “Okay, Honey, no pet names from me.”

Severus ground his teeth in consternation. He held her away from his body. “You truly are quite impossible.”

&*&*&

It was the first week of November, and Severus noticed, on his nightly jaunt into hostile territory - formerly known as Dinner in the Great Hall before his induction as Headmaster - that young Malfoy seemed withdrawn. Around him, a sea of Slytherins laughed and talked amongst themselves as if nothing had occurred the previous year. Young Malfoy, though still sneering and superior, picked at his food and if possible, looked worse physically than he did after the Dark Lord gave him the impossible mission to kill Albus. Severus-- who battled a constant stress-headache, impending nerve damage and the staff, protected the students from the Carrows and covertly worked against the Dark Lord-- sighed as he realised he had been neglecting his duties to his godson. He would have to find time for the boy. As he received yet another poisonous look from both Trelawney and Minerva, he decided there was no time like the present.

He made a show of dabbing his mouth with his pristine serviette, the motion ritualised by the fact that he had not touched the food on his plate, and then he rose. One of the Carrows made to follow him, but he stayed them with a motion of his hand and a dark look. It would not do for either of those nasty pieces of work to ascertain the intent of his conversation with his godson. He was convinced, as Albus had been, that the younger Malfoy was still salvageable.

As he strode past the Slytherin table, truly his only safe option these days, he let his hand fall on Mr. Malfoy's shoulder. "A word, in my office, Mr. Malfoy."

"Yes, sir.” Draco slumped slightly as if in defeat, and then rose to follow him.

They made their way through the nearly empty halls in silence. Draco trailed behind with his head down, and Severus, several times, had to check his desire to pull the boy to his side. It would not do for the Dark Lord's Headmaster to appear to be coddling a child under his care, whether the child was a loyalist or not. Severus muttered the password for his office, an obscure Egyptian potion ingredient that had been inscribed in the Book of the Dead millennia before the Dark Lord or even England existed. Malfoy joined him on the stairs and they entered the office. Malfoy stopped his body relaxing as the two passed the portrait-laden office and entered Severus’ chambers. The dark man ordered, “Sit.”

The Malfoy heir complied with bad grace. The extremity of his reaction more a testament to the boy's distress than any disrespect intended. Severus rang for tea and watched the boy as a house-elf appeared with a tray. Draco had always had a sweet tooth. As the elf laid delectable petit fours and chocolate biscuits out for the young Slytherin, Snape was interested to note the green shade the boy turned.

When the elf paused for further instruction from the Headmaster, its insolence barely contained in the twitching of its ears and lack of servility, Snape dismissed it with an impatient flick of his fingers. The elf Disapparated with a loud pop. Cheeky thing. Severus covered his amusement by lifting the prepared cup of tea to his lips.

Malfoy made no move toward the repast, but instead looked out the window into the dark night. After moments of strained silence, in which Severus hoped to provoke a reaction, the boy muttered, "I hate this."

"Indeed, Mr. Malfoy, what is it you hate?" Severus quirked his eyebrow in question and resumed sipping the tea.

“Father has been unfaithful to Mother.” The boy held his shoulders rigid, as if waiting for a blow. “There was a girl, one that Uncle Rodolphus brought to the Manor... She was there a week because she fought so hard... He... It wasn’t good what he did to her. I saw her being... and then Father struck me and locked me away... and Uncle Rodolphus was screaming later that Father... had...”

The boy’s composure broke and he rubbed his eyes with the sleeves of his silk and wool robe. Severus had only seen him lose his composure once since he was a toddler, and that had been after his punishment after they fled Hogwarts last June. The Headmaster waited, willing his fingers to relax as he cleared his mind. He knew the girl. She was currently in hiding in one of the safe houses, awaiting the birth of her child. She had stupidly refused the abortifacients offered her due to her religion’s laws.

Lucius, Severus suspected, grudgingly admired the girl, even if she were a Muggle, for the fight she had put up in the face of his brother-in-law’s depravity. Severus urged, “Continue, Mr. Malfoy.”

“Uncle Rodolphus accused Father of taking the girl for his own pleasure.” Draco reached for his cup of tea and gulped it down. He grimaced as if he wished it were a stronger beverage. “Father did not deny it.”

No, Lucius could not deny the accusations, no matter how untrue they were. The older Malfoy had joined Severus in his tightrope walk, both men balancing on the knife’s edge between the side of Light and servitude to Voldemort. Severus cut through the Gordian knot of the boy’s thoughts. “Your father most definitely did not soil himself with one of your uncle’s playthings. Think, Draco. I witnessed your father and mother‘s nuptials. Your grandfather insisted on a Fidelity Charm. You know this.”

“Then, what did Father do to her?” Draco demanded, his imperious Malfoy chin lift and cool eye returning. The boy’s world had been shaken, and Severus knew he had to proceed carefully. It would not do for Draco to know his father had defected from the Death Eater ranks, but Severus could not do to let the boy think Lucius a villain.

“The matter was taken care of, Mr. Malfoy,” Severus bit out. “Do not enquire further.”

The boy’s struggle was written on his face. “Very well, sir. May I be excused?”

Severus coolly nodded his assent.

Damn. Damn. Damn. Lucius would have to be more careful in the future. The boy might cause problems.

&*&*&

Severus flexed his fingers, as Poppy had told him to do, before he went to his bedroom that evening. The pain from the nerve damage had increased steadily over the years. His joints ached constantly and his hands and feet burned more often than not. Severus had hoped the Muggle drugs would help alleviate the worst of it, but so far, there had been no effect. He would discuss the matter with Antonia. A Potions Master without hands was useless.

The door to Joseph Pony’s room was ajar. Raucous, thumping music blared from the CD player, the boy’s prize possession. Severus knocked. “Mr. Red Horse, a word?”

The music volume lowered before the boy opened the door. Joseph Pony jerked his head in assent. “Come on in.”

The older wizard eased into a room that might have been any teenaged male’s abode at Hogwarts, with a few exceptions. Instead of walls littered with Quidditch posters and school memorabilia, the boy’s walls, now painted a deep, almost black, crimson, held posters of appalling rock idols and native artefacts. The room was tidy, a thing Severus insisted upon, but still cluttered with the day-to-day flotsam of a young man’s life. It was the first time he had been allowed into Joseph Pony’s room.

“Look, man, I’m sorry about what I said today,” Joseph Pony began, his eyes averted from Severus. “I talked to Charmaine and she thinks we ought to slow down.”

As soon as the words exited the boy’s mouth, Severus found himself with an armful of teen angst. Gods, he thought these days were over. He let the boy speak haltingly of his worries, really a first for Joseph Pony, while Severus muttered nonsense about things being for the best. All of it total tripe, and both of them knew it.

Finally, the emotional storm subsided, and Joseph Pony pulled away from Severus, shame-faced. “Sorry about that, man.”

“Good night, son,” Severus replied, straightening his robes and going to the hallway. “If you have need of me, I’ll be in my room.”

“Thanks, uh, Dad.” The door clicked shut behind Severus, and the music increased in volume.


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