Sub Rosa

A/N - About the chapter title - you may have noticed a propensity for puns and bad jokes in me that rivals a fey\'s. I apologized ahead of time for any injury you may sustain from groaning.


Chapter 4The The Meaning of Life

Severus sipped at the heavily sugared and milked tea with uncharacteristic pleasure. Normally, he would have found Albus’ idea of “a good cuppa” sickeningly sweet, but the recent healing had left him weak. The too-sweet tea was welcome, a reminder of Albus’ care and concern for him. It was the eternal beacon that had shown in the darkest of his nights. Albus’ teas meant home and safety and compassion.

As he told his tale to the elderly wizard, he needed that touchstone. Kathryn was off in the bowels of the earth with a pack of Gryffindors and the unearthly Fey. Severus wasn’t sure which group he trusted less to keep his lover safe. The elves were unfathomable creatures, for all their seeming friendliness and the Gryffindors were…well…Gryffindors. They were the heirs to the Marauders who had nearly murdered him and who had made his school years a hell.

“The most surprising bit, of course, was Draco and Minuet’s reaction.” Albus’ voice cut across his woolgathering and he turned his beetled brows upon his old friend and mentor.

“Their reaction to what?”

“Their reaction to being told of Kathryn’s plans, of course.” Albus said, his voice as sweet as the tea.

“I thought it was a secret, Albus.” Severus fought the brief urge to shake the headmaster.

“Well, yes, yes, of course. It was a complete accident that they found out at all. I was most careless indeed.” Severus snorted in cned ned amusement and disgust.

“That I doubt.” He returned.

“Most sad really, I must be going a trifle senile.” The wistful tone was a masterful touch, Severus thought wryly. Albus really had missed his calling, as an actor he would have been a great success. “I was chatting with Minerva and the boy must have overd urd us. He demanded to know what we were up to and I was so flustered that it just slipped out.” Albus blinked owlishly at Severus, the perfect image of the dotty old eccentric.

“Which is the story you shall tell the Ministry if they ask?” Severus replied with tones as dry as bone.

“Really Severus, you make it sound calculated.” The eyes were crinkled at him and Severus gave up.

“So what were their reactions, Albus, as you are obviously dying to tell me?” Severus rolled out the snarky tone, knowing it was futile, but needing the practice.

“Mr. Malfoy and Miss Ravagienne decided that a bunch of Gryffindors were not to be trusted with their Head of House’s girlfriend, can you imagine that?” Severus’s eyebrow achieved new heights in its ascent up his forehead. “They determined that only a Slytherin or possibly two could counterbalance the tendency towards mindless heroics that the Gryffindors were likely to display.” Albus popped a lemon drop into his mouth with a genial good humor that made Severus clench his teeth.

“You dissuaded them from such folly, of course.” Severus ground out.

“Well, the point was to promote Interhouse Unity…” Albus began innocently.

“Albus! What if Voldemort hears of this? What if there are Death Eaters down there? Minuet is only a third year!” He found himself on his feet shouting at his employer, his voice loud and angry.

“So you do care for the child.” Albus sucked on his candy thoughtfully. Severus flung himself into the overstuffed armchair with what he knew to be a petulant expression.

“I had thought that was obvious.” The scathing sarcasm in his tone was utterly wasted on Albus who just chuckled.

“Well, when the clerk from Petite Pleasures told me you had bought a toy stable and some horses I had a feeling that it wasn’t a Christmas Present for Voldemort.” Severus choked on his tea and glared at Albus, who merely smiled with utmost serenity.

“I hardly think that Voldemort would find it amusing. An acceptable Christmas gift to him would more likely consist of Potter’s head on a platter. Which is, sadly, counter-productive to our ultimate goal.” Severus found, much to his dismay, that Potter baiting had lost some of its joy. He wondered if he were going soft.

“No, I’m afraid his wish list will go unfulfilled for another year.” Albus’s gaze lost its focus and Severus watched him as he sat thinking. “Severus, have you heard anything from Bellatrix?” The question brought a rush of blood to his face.

“She owls me regularly.” He choked out.

“Really? That makes what, six women who are pursuing you at the moment?” Albus had that amused little twitch to his lips as Severus sank deeper and deeper into his chair.

“Only five. Kathryn doesn’t count, as she has never pursued me.”

“True, but she did catch you, didn’t she?” Albus’ voice had softened at the last bit, compassion and understanding pouring into his eyes.

“Yes, Albus. I am well and truly caught.” Severus’s bitter words, tinged as they were with sorrow and longing, hung in the air between the two friends for long hours, as they sat, waiting for word from a woman they both had come to care for.

Severus was roused from his reverie by Minerva’s brusque tones.

“The other children are going to wonder where the whole lot of them got off to, you know that, Albus.”

“A field trip into the hills, Minerva.”

“They will never believe it, Albus.” She returned with asperity.

“It doesn’t matter, Minerva.” Minerva’s mouth firmed up into a straight line and Severus decided to intervene.

“Too true, Potter will save the school again, Gryffindor will win the House Cup and probably the Quidditch Cup and all will be as it always is.” He shrugged off her glower with a small pained smile.

Minerva had always had a fondness for him and, true Slytherin that he was, he played upon it shamelessly. Most often, he used it to extricate Albus from her wrath, but he did occasionally play up to her for the sheer fun of it.

This time, he gave her the “wounded bird” look, winced artfully as he shifted in his chair, and watched her melt completely. Her attention successfully diverted from Albus, he relaxed and prepared himself to be pampered and cosseted by the older woman.

“Severus dear, you must be exhausted.” She brushed his hair back from his brow with a maternal air. “Are you still in pain?” She fetched him another cup of tea and a plate of sandwiches.

“Poppy gave me a pain potion that should last me many more hours.” He used his best, slightly-martyred-but-unwilling-to-complain tone and watched as she settled into her chair with a worried frown. Albus had plastered on a look of concern as well, though his eyes were a trifle too bright to fool anyone who knew him well. Minerva was luckily still focused on Severus, so she didn’t notice.

“Perhaps you should still be in the Hospital Wing.” Minerva fussed. Severus ate one of the sandwiches, sipped the tea and basked in Minerva’s concern.

“Nonsense, Minerva, she could give me no better care than you.” He flattered her and smiled sweetly up at her. He really did love the old woman.

He was never sure if she fell for his act or not, but he had lacked a mother’s love and care growing up and even at close to forty, he found pleasure in receiving it and Minerva never seemed to mind.

He wondered at times why she had no children of her own, but had never dared to ask. There was an old pain there somewhere and he didn’t want to rip open the scabs.

As a young man he had thought that knowledge and the pursuit of it were all that mattered, Platonic ideals of truth had ruled him. Now that he was grown, he found that people were what interested him. He found that friends were more precious than books and far harder to care for. He could study one or two people for a lifetime and never get to the end of all he could learn.

His reason for being had shifted from the abstract to the concrete. Thmentment he changed was clear in his mind. He could still see the muggle child being force-fed one of his potions. He could remember watching as the panic in her eyes, the struggle for life finally gave way to a weary blankness and then a glassy-eyed nothingness, the warm brown fading to a dull and lifeless muddy tone. His potion, his experiment, an abstract concept made horrifyingly real.

All the thoughts he had pushed away as maudlin or sentimental, all the doubts and concerns, all the feeling of disgust and fear, came down upon him that night.

That night his world changed. That was the night he had sat in his darkened apartment, replaying the scene again and again till madness nearly claimed him. He remembered the blade in his hand, the cowardly urge to run away from what he had become and never return.

He recalled with perfect clarity the way his mind had jerked and started, like a poorly running train, searching for one moment of good in his life.

He remembered then, in a golden glow of hope, Albus Dumbledore speaking to him as he graduated, the fatherly hand on his shoulder, the gentle voice, the calm acceptance of all that he saw in Severus’ eyes. He recalled with perfect clarity the words the man had spoken on that day.

“Severus, when you wake one morning and realize what you have done, I will be here, waiting.” Severus had sneered at the old man then, thinking himself far cleverer than the elderly wizard. But from his new vantage point of guilt, despair and horror, the words became a lifeline, spun out from age and experience to pull him home to safety.

Remembering he looked up at Albus and Minerva and smiled softly at the two people who had saved his life, his sanity and his soul.

“Have I ever said thank you?” He asked them, voice gone low and quiet.

“When was there ever need?” Albus glowed from within with a gentle light, a forgiving light and Minerva’s face in the firelight was the face of an angel, strong and pure.