Tempus Fugit Praeterhãc

To Jilliane and celestialuna, thanks for the mulitude of comments and thanks to everyone else who reviewed, whose comments may not be as numerous but which are nonetheless, greatly appreciated.



Chapter six - in which Severus does some remembering



Looking back, Severus couldn’t help but marvel at how much he had changed. If Harry taught Severus tenderness, taught him to love, then the arrival of Apisus and the fate of Modia’s twins taught him compassion.

Soon after Apisus had arrived, Severus altered his study so it became a sort of sitting room for them all. He removed a great number of scrolls that related to Potions to his workroom and just kept one wall of shelves for other scrolls. He found some couches and a chair or two and had them installed, he also widened the door so that it became double its original width allowing them to keep it wide open in warmer weather so he could sit and look at the garden.

However, his favourite addition to this room, that had become a favourite retreat, was the inclusion of a round-bellied, wood-burning stove, for the approaching colder weather. When they had first arrived in Rome, Severus had found the temperature uncomfortably hot, but he seemed to have adjusted during the summer, and now that it was late November he was really beginning to feel the cold.

The bread-oven heated the shop and the workroom quite easily, but this cosy little room was on the other side of the house, which in contrast had been cold and drafty. So Severus’ little stove provided heat for the study and the bedrooms and Harry’s customers kept them well supplied with wood to keep it going. Harry had also found them all hand knitted socks during one of his forays into the market along with thick woven rugs which they snuggled under when the winter wind made everything colder.

Which brought them to this dreary November afternoon. The solid wooden doors were firmly closed against the heavy grey rain and a myriad of candles blazed against the darkness engendered by the storm outside. Severus had charmed them to burn for a long time and brightly enough for the boys and himself to read and work with ease. The little corner stove was burning merrily away sending out a steady stream of comforting warmth.

Harry and Aps – as he had come to be known, to Harry at least – were lying on the floor beside the stove, with the little dog that Severus could not resist bringing home for Harry one day when he’d found it wandering lost in the marketplace. Being with Harry was making him soft, Severus told himself ruefully; he couldn’t seem to resist spoiling the boy, showering him with presents, anything to help generate that sweet smile or the endearing blush that coloured Harry’s cheeks whenever Severus gave him anything.

Flea, who had been named for the infestation of little creatures that had plagued her when she arrived, was twitching in her sleep, dreaming of warmer weather perhaps? Harry was teaching Apisus to read and Severus, who was supposed to be researching, couldn’t help watching the boys instead. They had made a nest of cushions on the thickly woven rug and were lying quite closely together. Harry was patiently sounding out words and then writing them down clearly and carefully and encouraging Apisus to copy him. The shop was closed until eighth hour and they had finished lunch, a thick, hearty soup, a short while ago.

It was very pleasant indeed sitting and watching the boys and dozing to the muted sounds of the rain outside. Severus let his thoughts wander back to the few weeks, at the end of the summer, reliving the period when Apisus had arrived and Modia’s twins had been freed.

~~Flashback~~

Modia was delighted with Severus’ suggestion that he purchase the tavern slave-boy, though Thomas was less keen. He saw the young slave as a useful source of income and was loathe to let him go. But Modia persuaded him that Severus offered a far better price than the boy would fetch at auction and they would be able to afford a trained cook for the same money as Severus promised for the boy. The Slytherin in Severus knew he was offering considerably more than the boy was worth but, once he and Harry had made the decision to buy Apisus, Severus could not have borne it if they failed to rescue him.

The few scenes he had witnessed of the boy’s life had haunted Severus since the night he had first noticed him at the tavern. The bruises and scars that Apisus wore were silent testimony to what the boy had suffered since being enslaved. But perhaps the worst part of it was the unconcerned acceptance that such casual brutality had been so casually visited upon the boy in the first place. Quite simply, nobody cared enough about him to trouble themselves over his injuries, whether they had been deliberate or not, or to take care of the wounds he had received

So, the deal made, Apisus duly arrived at the apothecary, nothing but skin and bone. He stood, trembling violently in front of Severus determinedly not looking at his new master and Severus had not been quite sure how to deal with someone quite as damaged as this child obviously was. He had seen children in Slytherin, before, who had been abused, it was part of his job as housemaster after all, none of them had been in this position though. What Apisus had been through was beyond imagining in Severus’ opinion.

He explained in a quiet and gentle voice that Harry would help clean him up and that he, Severus, would then heal his wounds. Apisus nodded but his eyes remained on the floor. Harry helped the boy wash away what seemed to be the accumulated filth of several years, allowing Severus to examine his body. While the boy was still agitated, his violent trembling had ceased.

Severus was shocked and appalled by the shear number of injuries from which Apisus was suffering. The boy was covered in bruises, sores and scars, not to mention an infestation of head lice. Fortunately Severus had several stock potions to deal with these conditions. But to deal with the poor young man’s anus, which was sickeningly and horribly sore and inflamed, he needed the discrete use of his wand and some powerful healing charms as well as the potions and salves he had used to heal Harry. Surprisingly and luckily, though, Apisus was mostly disease free, but from the evidence of the other suffering the boy had undergone, this was where his luck had run out.


Harry found Apisus a clean tunic from among those purchased for his Gryffindor slave by Severus on their recent shopping spree. The dark green colour suited Apisus’ auburn hair colouring almost as well as it suited Harry, though of course just about any colour suited Harry, with his dark hair and creamy skin; but green both emphasised Harry’s eyes and made Apisus look less sallow. So, completely without design on Severus’ part, he managed to dress his boys in matching apparel, something which it seemed his neighbours greatly approved of.

***************

With clean working conditions and plenty of good food, Apisus’ wounds healed quickly, though his emotional healing would take longer. He was, unsurprisingly, petrified of men. He obeyed Severus’ every request as quickly as he could, but it was obvious that he was terrified. His terror was betrayed in every line of his body, in the cringes that he could not suppress whenever Severus went near him.

Severus learned to moderate his tone when speaking to the boy. Unfortunately this meant that he could not always hold back when he spoke to Harry and he frequently snapped at him or seared him with his sarcasm, but Harry didn’t seem to mind. He shrugged off Severus’ ill-humoured comments as if he were used to them, which of course he was. When he looked at Apisus, however, or spent any time with him, it was as if Severus underwent another paradigm shift. Terror made the young slave tongue-tied and clumsy and Severus wondered how many children he himself had condemned to stupidity with his vile temper and scathing words.

Harry had given up on Potions because of his treatment of the boy. It was only now, after several months of teaching Harry to make potions, just the two of them, side by side, that Harry was beginning to show the true skill and talent Severus began to suspect had been there all along. A talent that Severus would have hotly denied when Harry was still his student. He refused to even think about the way he had treated Neville Longbottom.

As the days passed Harry’s help became even more invaluable. Under Harry’s patient tutelage, Apisus went about his duties with growing confidence. Although still somewhat scared of Severus, he blossomed in Harry’s company. Harry was kind to the young slave and infinitely patient with his numerous mistakes, demonstrating simple tasks time after time until there was no longer the need. Although it seemed to be ages before Apisus relaxed and started to try things on his own, eventually curiosity and confidence replaced the boy’s terror

~~End Flashback~~

A loud snort from Harry brought Severus out of his reverie. He smiled and stretched his legs out as he watched the boys together. Slowly, oh so slowly, the boy had begun to blossom under Harry’s care until on this rainy afternoon he was able to lie on the floor, relaxed and comfortable, giggling at Harry’s comments about an obnoxious customer whom Apisus had the misfortune of having to serve earlier that day.

He no longer flinched when Severus came close or moved unexpectedly. His skin no longer had the milky pallor it’d had when he’d arrived, his hair was glossy, he was not as scrawny and his eyes showed life and intelligence rather than dull acceptance of his fate.

These pleasant thoughts eventually brought Modia and her twins to mind and Severus couldn’t help but recall the events leading to the twins’ emancipation and Modia’s release from allegiance to Gaius Iulius Nocens. The patronage for Modia’s family and the freedom of her twins had been Severus’ price for acquiescing to Gaius Iulius’ desperate plea to help his son Devis. This had occurred almost a week after Severus had cast the Memoriam Reflectus spell on the spoiled and selfish boy for his abortive assault and attempted rape of Harry.

Severus was quite proud of that particular curse; it really had been the perfect one to use on that particular occasion and his expression turned into a smirk of pure satisfaction at the thought.

He had created it when he was still at school in an effort to force James Potter to be less vicious towards him. It forced the victim of the charm to suffer the pain that they had inflicted on others, to relive it time after time. It had worked beautifully on James Potter. He had come to Severus begging to be released and after a day or two, and after making James suffer as long as possible, Severus had reluctantly agreed.

In retrospect, however, the charm ended up being one of the reasons he had never truly forgiven James. The spell had, seemingly, given James Potter a conscience, which was what Severus believed had forced the man to rescue him from Lupin. Severus had always suspected that if he had never cast the curse on Harry’s father, then the spoiled young man would never have rescued him and he, in turn, would not have had to go through life owning his hated rival a life debt – one he could never repay. Of course, the fact that he might not have HAD a life to live was a thought the snarky Potions Master refused to contemplate.

The curse had also, obviously, had an impact on Devis Nocens. The odious boy’s Patrician father had come to Severus practically begging him to lift the mysterious curse that was attacking his son. As Severus continued to gaze at Harry and Apisus and the grey rain continued to fall, his mind once again drifted back to late summer.

~~Flashback~~

Severus glanced up from the parchment he was examining as Gaius Iulius Nocens was shown into the study by an anxious looking Harry. Severus made a mental note to reassure the boy, as soon as the Patrician left, that nothing was about to happen to him. On the contrary, he had a very strong idea that the ‘great man’ was here to beg their assistance. Far from being his well groomed self, he looked a mess.

“Please, please help Devis.” Iulius begged, his eyes rimmed with red and his usually pristine toga crumpled and soiled.

Severus remembered his fury at the treatment Harry had received at the hands of the spoiled young aristocrat. He was glad Devis was suffering; after all, the brat was only feeling the pain that he had inflicted on others. The boy had obviously caused more pain than Severus could have guessed at if he was still suffering such pain more than a week after Severus had spelled him. However, he could also feel pity for the man before him. Severus, himself a proud man, realised what it cost the similarly proud Patrician to come and beg the help of someone he would see as so far beneath him.

Once Severus had finally come to admit his love for the boy who shared his life, he had begun, also, to feel emotions previously denied him, emotions such as empathy. If this man cared for his son as much as Severus cared for Harry then his very obvious suffering was easy to understand. An idea began to form in Severus’ brain.

“I’ll help you,” Severus replied carefully, causing the man to look up at him hopefully. “But I shall not do so for no fee.”

“Anything!” the man whispered. “I’ll give you anything! No one has been able to help him! I have tried healers of renown, soothsayers, charlatans, though I am beginning to think that is what they all are! But no one has helped, no one has been able to help.

“They say, in the forum, that you are a formidable apothecary, that you can make anyone well again, that there is nothing you cannot do with your medicines.

“I know he wronged you. My son’s slave told me what happened here to your own slave, but he didn’t know, he didn’t realise. I beg forgiveness for him! If you know anything about what happened to my son, can you please make him well again, take the curse from him. Please!”

~~End Flashback~~

Feeling a bit cramped Severus rose from his chair and with a smile at the two boys walked over to stare out the window.

He remembered how astonished he had been that Iulius realised it had been he who had hexed his son. He had, however, been even more amazed at the other man’s insistence that he was ‘well known in Rome’. Severus thought he and Harry had been keeping a low profile.

He had later found out that he was indeed infamous. Wizards were accepted in Rome, admired even. The division from the Muggle world had not yet happened; would not happen for hundreds of years. Severus knew this intellectually, but being confronted with the reality of it was quite a shock. Their little shop had become well known and well thought of and he had become respected without ever realising that it had happened. Once again his thoughts drifted into the past.

~~Flashback~~

Gaius Iulius Nocens was obviously in awe of him and Severus relished with great enjoyment the feeling of power that the awed respect of the Patrician was giving him. At the same time, he did not want to make anything too easy for the other man either - where would be the advantage in that, after all? The little idea he had was looking ever more likely to succeed.

Keeping these thoughts well hidden behind a sarcastic sneer, he asked, “Are you insinuating that I did something to your odious offspring?”

Iulius dissembled then and stuttered his apologies, much to Severus’ satisfaction.

“No!” Iulius had spluttered. “No, I did not mean to suggest anything of the kind, sir, but my son is an innocent and he is suffering; he did not know what he was doing. He not realise the power that you command – he did not know who he had wronged. Please help him?”

“I think that your son has not been innocent for a very long time. He knew very well what he was doing, he just didn’t care,” Severus told the broken man scathingly. “He hurt what is mine, and for that he deserved to suffer. The extent of his suffering is directly related to how much suffering he has inflicted on others. However, I will remove the curse if you agree to give me what I ask for.”

“Anything!” Iulius repeated. “Whatever you want, have I not already said so?”

This was the moment Severus had been waiting for; he proffered his little idea.

“I want you to transfer Modia and her family to my protection and I want you to free any of her children that you still own on the same basis; in essence, I want to become their Paterfamilias.”

Iulius was stunned; he sat, apparently frozen by shock, opening and closing his mouth like a large blond fish.

“I can pay you.” he finally managed, and in that moment Severus knew he had won. The man would indeed give him anything, there only remained the obligatory negotiating.

It seemed Iulius was inordinately fond of ‘his’ redheaded boy, ‘his’ twin. Severus didn’t blame him; he would never give Harry up, not for anything. However, Iulius’ choice was between his slave and his son so, in the end, it truly wasn’t a choice at all. For Iulius to chose his slave over his son in Ancient Rome would destroy his own standing in the city. When Severus finally agreed to accompany Iulius back to his house, he accompanied a broken man.

They found Devis Iulius Nocens sitting on the floor, in a corner of a richly decorated room in Iulius Pater’s house. The house itself was enormous, filled with fine furniture and intricately worked mosaics. One of Modia’s red-headed twins was sitting close to Devis, holding him whilst he sobbed. The other twin looked up, relief showing plainly on his face as Severus and his master walked in. This twin looked as battered as Harry had when Severus had cursed Devis.

“Oh, Septimus!” Gaius Iulius whispered, his face turning a ghastly white. “What happened to you? He reached down and touched the boy’s cheek. The slave flinched, not in fear of his master but from the pain still present in his bruised face and blackened eye.

Severus realised, as he saw the boys closely for the first time, that Septimus must be the slave who belonged to Gaius Iulius, whilst the other boy was Devis’. Side by side, he could see that their differences were as pronounced as their similarities.

Severus felt touched by the tenderness he could see in Iulius towards his favourite. The young man had obviously been well cared for and it was plain Iulius was fond of his slave. The boy’s brother, on the other hand, did not seem so well off. They were identical, or should have been, but the boy cradling Devis was much thinner than his brother, paler, with dark circles under his eyes. His face was streaked with tear stains and he had a livid red scar running the length of one cheek.

Iulius walked over to his son and crouched down, whispering quietly to his son’s slave, whom Severus could hear was called Octavius. Devis was huddled against the boy, trembling and whimpering, whilst the slave crooned gently against his master’s neck.

Startled by whatever Iulius had said to him, Octavius looked fearfully over at Severus and his eyes filled with tears. But he nodded, stood and, taking his twin by the hand, came over to Severus as Iulius had commanded him.

It took Severus only a matter of seconds to lift the Memoriam Reflectus spell. Looking amazed and slightly fearful, Iulius Nocens called another slave into the room and directed him to lead Devis away.

The twins were unable to look at Severus, they held each other close and stared submissively at their feet instead. Severus experienced a wave of deep sadness as he noticed how scared the boys were. The skinnier of the two, the one with scars - because they both wore bruises - the one called Octavius, started to tremble violently. Septimus, the better cared for twin, put his arm around his terrified brother and just for a split second met Severus’ eye with a touch of defiance.

The boys followed Severus easily enough without a single word. It was Iulius who spoke, who halted Severus with a couple of words.

“Please, wait!” he pleaded. “Can I ask you something?”

Severus glanced back at Iulius feeling distinctly uncomfortable. The man looked dishevelled, unkempt and had a desperate look in his eyes that sent a chill down the Potions Master’s spine. His hand hovered close to Severus’ arm, not quite touching him but not able to move away.

“I’m sorry,” Iulius had whispered. “You are right, about my son, he has not always been kind. My boy has suffered, his brother, too. Devis does not deserve to own anyone, not the way he has behaved. I know I shouldn’t ask, I know I shouldn’t – but, please, what will you do with my…with the boys?”

The man seemed close to collapsing. Severus felt sympathy for the proud Patrician – that haunted look in his eyes was all too familiar.

“They’ll be fine. Modia is my friend and she is getting married. I thought their freedom would be a perfect wedding gift for her.”

Iulius looked mollified, hopeful. “There will be a shop premises available soon; the flint seller will be… erm… moving on. Septimus likes making toys. He would like a shop, I think; it could be his, if he wanted it.”

Septimus was staring at his erstwhile master with tears in his eyes. Both slaves looked totally confused about what was happening, though Severus knew they must have heard him explain the situation to Iulius. He needed to get them away, back to their mother.

“I’ll look into it.” Severus assured the saddened Roman, at the same time taking the hand of the twin who was closest to him and leading the boys from the room.

“Can I see him sometime?” the melancholy voice floated after them.

Severus didn’t speak, he just half turned and nodded once, curtly, and then took the boys home.

~~End Flashback~~

The rain seemed to be decreasing and a ray of sunlight broke through the grey ceiling of clouds but the room felt chilled. Severus glanced at his boys and he chuckled. They were curled in each others arms and fast asleep, with Flea cuddled between them. He knew he should get back to work – but he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. He put more wood in the little stove and returned to settle back in his chair, letting his thoughts turn to Apisus, Modia and the twins once again.

Severus remembered bringing Apisus home only a few days after he and Harry had discussed the possibility and two market days* before Thomas and Modia’s wedding – so that he could help with the preparations and, despite his fear and need to adjust to his new circumstances, he had done just that. The wedding itself had taken place in their courtyard since Severus now stood in the role of Paterfamilias; which also explained how Severus had been talked into actually acting ‘Paterfamilias’ for Modia at the wedding – she was far too old to be given away by her father as was the tradition in Rome; besides which, Modia’s father was almost certainly still a slave so he had not really been an option, even if she had known who her father was and where he might be or even if he were still alive, come to that.

~~Flashback~~

Modia sobbed for hours upon the presentation to her of her sons, freed from slavery, by the Potions Master as his wedding gift. Severus had never even seen her cry before. The boys had cried, too, along with Virginia, Hermia, Harry, and even Rufus.

At first the twins were inseparable from each other and exhibited a great deal of uncertainty, wariness and outright confusion over their newly liberated state. However, with the help and support of a loving family and friends they soon accepted their good fortune and settled in quickly enough; though Severus suspected that Septimus missed his master.

Septimus loved his ex-master, whilst Octavius was terrified of his. In the last seven days of their slavery, Devis had gone mad and the twins had bourn the brunt of his insanity. Both wore the bruises that Devis had given them as testimony to his recent tantrums resulting from the curse. Octavius’ scars, however, were older, indicating he had suffered severe punishments over a much longer period of time.

All three of the boys had been damaged, each in their own way. They were all like children, seemingly much younger than their actual age. Slavery did that. It took away choices (not that a slave had any to begin with) and left a person with no control whatsoever over their lives.

Harry was helping the twins settle in, Severus having agreed to put them up temporarily until the shop across the way was free for them to move in, when it came to Severus’ notice that Apisus was nowhere in sight. After a careful search he found the boy cowering in a dark, shadowy corner. Although it took some time and patience, Severus finally wormed it out of the frightened young man that he thought the arrival of Septimus and Octavius meant he would have to leave and return to the tavern. After reassuring Apisus this was not the case, he shooed him away to help Harry prepare food for them all. After dinner Severus gave the twins their manumission papers and they sat and talked for hours.


**************


With all the preparations and activities for the marriage, the next two weeks seemed to fly by. All the women could talk about were clothes and colours and flowers and food and drink and guests – when Harry and Apisus were happily roped in (Aps being assured by Harry that he would not be returned to Thomas), Severus fled to his workshop and refused to come out until all talk of ‘the wedding’ was done for the day.

Even the twins got caught up in the party spirit and helped Harry and Apisus make two ‘wedding stools’, on which the bride and groom would sit, from a battered Oakwood table that usually occupied a place in the front of the shop.

Three days before the big event Harry started the process of cleaning and cooking. In this Apisus proved to be a big help to him. Even though still somewhat skittish and shy, under the caring treatment of Severus and Harry, he was proving himself to be a hard and competent worker.


Finally the great day dawned and Modia sparkled like starlight. She was dressed in a traditional, simple, white shift with a silken belt tied with “the knot of Hercules”. She wore a saffron veil and held a bouquet of flowers she had gathered herself in the garden that morning. More flowers were woven in her hair and she looked young and fresh and happy.

Thomas was also tidied up and looking his best, thanks to the ministrations of Hermia and Virginia. He was not an educated man, and Severus truly thought that he was not good enough for Modia, but she seemed happy and he truly seemed to adore her. The innkeeper seemed to be blossoming under Modia, her daughter and daughter-in-law’s tender care. He was scrubbed clean and his hair was neatly trimmed; he wore a neat white tunic and a pleased, possessive smile, and he strode around the garden expansively as if the fine house and shop belonged to him and not to Severus.

The courtyard was full of Modia and Thomas’ family, friends and neighbours, who mingled together, wandering in and out of the peristyle garden and the large airy rooms. This pre-ceremony gathering would not last long, much to Severus’ relief as he hated being surrounded by people. Harry was explaining that for the wedding to be legal there had to be at least ten witnesses present before, during and after the ceremony. Glancing around at the multitude of bodies stuffed into his courtyard, Severus glumly acknowledged that, in this case, it would not be an issue. Giving him a stern glare, Harry told him he had to behave and that he was not allowed to scowl at people and then sent him off to mingle. Doing his best to comply, Severus, was nevertheless, hugely relieved when Harry rang the bell signifying the start of the ceremony, as his jaw was aching from trying to smile.

The bride and groom were led forward by Hermia and Rufus to stand before the tiny man acting as priest. They held hands and Modia blushed, shyly. The joy that suffused Modia’s face, upon seeing her sons as freemen at her wedding, would remain forever etched in Severus’ memory (and made the temporary intrusion of two extra people in his home seem almost endurable.)

According to tradition she had to consent to the marriage during the wedding ceremony, this time by saying words of consent in public.

"Quando tu Gaius, ego Gaia." Modia said, speaking the traditional words with a slight tremor in her voice.

Severus reminded himself that this was her first wedding, an occasion that she had surely thought never to be a part of. As a slave she had not been married, had never thought to be married, and he could not help feeling touched by the quiet joy which suffused her being.

After the words of consent, the bride and groom sat on stools, facing the makeshift altar. It was draped with a rich purple cloth and garlanded with colourful flowers. An offering was made to the god Jupiter, which Severus was relieved to learn consisted of cake and that no slaughter of small animals needed to take place. The offering cake was lemon (and Severus chuckled to himself as he wondered if Jupiter liked lemon), made by Harry especially for the occasion as lemon cakes were Modia’s favourites.

The priest made the offering, the cake was eaten by the bride and groom and then shared with the guests and suddenly the ceremony was complete. After the dinner party, which followed immediately upon completion of the ceremony, and as was tradition, the groom escorted the bride to her new home. The procession through the streets and alleyways was essential to the validity of the marriage, or so Modia had said – it could not be omitted. Severus suspected as he watched the parade that it had become such a strong tradition because people enjoyed it so much. Anyone could join the procession, and many people did, most of them unknown to Severus, many of them probably equally unknown to Modia and Thomas. But Modia’s happiness was palpable, people wanted some of her reflected glory, wanted to join the procession and be part of the occasion.

Rufus played a drum and a boy that Severus didn’t know played a flute. The twins took turns carrying a ‘marriage torch’ which had been lit at her house and kept burning as a flame in Severus’ home. Modia would now use the torch to light a fire which had been laid in the hearth at the inn, signifying the warmth that Modia would bring to the marriage. Severus knew that the wood had been laid and the fire prepared because Harry had been the one to do it, Apisus was still too terrified to return to the place where he had suffered for so long, and Severus just hadn’t had the heart to force him.

Virginia and Hermia walked at the front of the crowd scattering flower petals, nuts and fruit. Finally the procession reached the inn. Modia once more recited the chant she had spoken earlier in front of the priest and with much hilarity, and no shortage of ribald comments from the crowd, the short, bowlegged innkeeper had hoisted his rather curvy new wife into his arms and carried her over the threshold. The couple were followed into their new marital home by only their closest friends and family who witnessed Modia light the wood in the hearth and then cheered loudly as Thomas led his bride up the steep wooden staircase.

The inn had not closed that day, and would not the whole of the coming night either. Once Modia and Thomas were out of sight, Modia’s sons threw open the doors and busied themselves serving wine and the food left over from the wedding dinner. The party went on till dawn.

~~End Flashback~~

Severus took a long drink of the mulled wine Harry had made and left beside his chair, then tried to convince himself to go back to his research. With a deep sigh he decided he was just too comfortable and, besides, he had nothing of extreme importance awaiting him anyway.

He smiled as he remembered the afternoon following the wedding party’s departure. Severus had closed and barred the door to the shop and taken Harry to bed. How leisurely their lovemaking had been and how the scent of crushed flower petals had lingered for hours after they had been scattered.

The wedding also marked the date Iulius started trying hard to befriend Severus, no doubt feeling he owed the wizard a lot for taking care of his slave, and his son. The best part had been when Iulius had exhorted Severus to use his extensive library; being no kind of fool, Severus had graciously taken him up on the offer. The more data he had at his disposal the better the chance of finding a clue to getting home.

Severus ruthlessly tamped down another prickly qualm of conscience about said research and went back to his daydreaming.

Marcus the flint seller had packed up and closed his shop the day after Modia’s wedding, just as Iulius had hinted he would. Severus snorted softly as he remembered the frenzied excitement accompanying this turn of events, followed by several days of frenetic energy and activity as the twins moved in and proceeded to set up their toy shop. Both of them, it seemed, had skill with making toys and little novelty items, as well as excellent heads for business. And now, a mere three months later, they were selling items from all over the Roman world: Ivory from Africa, carvings from Hispania, and even strange and wonderful things from beyond the Empire.

Iulius, of course, had been a regular visitor to the shop, almost from the start. And most peculiar it was, too, to see the fine Patrician regularly haunting the alleyways, seeking the company of a simple redheaded freedman.

It had taken longer for Iulius minor to follow his father and seek out his own former slave. The spell that Severus had cast had changed the boy beyond all recognition. It had broken him down, humbled him. Octavius’ slow acceptance of his former master had helped Devis recover, even to the point where he had apologised to Harry.

Severus shifted in his chair as his thoughts perversely returned to his abandoned research. Access to Iulius’ library had greatly improved Severus’ knowledge and understanding of the time in which they were living. From his research he believed that magic was innate in the populous, but at a very low level. Severus wondered what had brought about the increase in magic in wizards and the lack of it in Muggles and squibs. He suspected some of the legends of gods and goddesses were truly about wizards, while Cicero seemed to be nothing more than a good orator rather than the wizard he was rumoured to be. He speculated that some sort of catalyst must have started things off, increased magic exponentially in some members of the population; the question was ‘when’ had it happened, possibly not for many hundreds of years.

His musings were shattered by a loud and frantic thumping at the front doors. Roused by the noise, Harry sleepily stumbled out to answer it. Glancing at the water clock Severus saw that it was eighth hour and time for them to reopen. Undoubtedly it was an irate customer pounding on the door.

Harry, wide-eyed and slightly panicked, came rushing back into the room only seconds later. “Domine,” he said, sounding slightly out of breath. “It’s Rufus at the door, we must go quickly. Hermia has gone into labour but things are not going well and she is losing a lot of blood. They need us, Domine, they need us to help.”


**********


The wine shop was crowded with people, Iulius was there and Devis, Modia’s twins and Thomas the innkeeper. Severus sat Apisus and Harry down beside Octavius and told them to wait while he went through to the back room to see the girl.

The bed that Hermia was lying on was swamped with blood, her life-blood. The cramped little space smelt of fear, and death and despair. The girl was lying still, not moving, curled in upon herself; she had given up it seemed and Severus wondered how long she had been in labour.

Modia sat beside her, features pale and drawn thinner with worry.

“Why didn’t you call me before now?” Severus demanded as soon as he saw her.

Modia was desperately soothing the girl who started to weep weakly and clutch at her husband’s hand. Virginia was holding a small bundle which was mewling softly.

“It happened so rapidly,” Modia said. “The babe came after quite a long labour. Hermia was exhausted and we thought she could rest but then we saw that there was another baby and Hermia started to bleed. We couldn’t stop it and the baby is stuck but Hermia has no strength left. She has laboured for hours but she can do no more. We might lose them both. Help her, Severus.”

“I’ll try.”

Severus was not a healer, he had no experience of childbirth and had never delivered a child but it was obvious he was Hermia’s only chance. There were others who could help, doctors of a sort, but the girl was fading fast and there was probably not time to find one. Midwives were more common, but some of them were little more than local gossips who would know less about childbirth than Modia did and care not a bit about Hermia or her child.

Calling Harry to him, he explained what he needed and sent Harry to retrieve the potions. Apisus was rapidly learning to read, but his literary skills were not very reliable yet. Whilst Harry was gone Severus took out his wand, casting Scourgify on himself and the girl; he had to sterilize the area and ensure that he was sterile too. He was surprised to realise that he no longer worried about anyone in the room witnessing him performing magic, he trusted them. Carefully he examined Hermia. The girl was indeed exhausted and the second baby was breech. When he performed the examination he could feel the baby’s feet; the baby was still alive because it wriggled its tiny toe.

Severus sighed deeply. As far as he could see, he had two options: he could either somehow perform a caesarean, rumoured to be named for the great Julius himself, or he could give Hermia some potions to revive her energy and help her to give birth.

“I tried to turn it,” Modia said, her voice tinged with desperation, “but I think it’s too late. It’s determined to come out with it’s feet on the land. But she is so weak, Severus. The first babe was a hard labour, she has been pushing since before dawn. My babies always came out easy, but her hips are narrow and she grows very frail.”

Hermia was indeed fading fast, her face was pale with exhaustion, her forehead soaked with sweat, and the baby’s foot seemed rather too far down the birth canal for a caesarean to be performed, especially by someone who was not a surgeon and who had a very sketchy idea of anatomy.

“You have done well so far, Modia,” Severus said. He had no idea whether she had or not, but she seemed beside herself with anxiety and he needed her calm. He wondered how far a potion would energise the girl and whether one would help Modia, who was almost as exhausted as her charge.

Thankfully at that moment Harry returned. He had all the potions that Severus had asked for and a selection of others. Without having to be told he administered the Blood Replenishing Potion and the Pepper-up Potion to Hermia. He lifted her gently so that she was sitting up. Her head lolled on Harry’s shoulder and he gently tipped each bottle so that the girl could easily drink.

Severus looked down at the basket full of bottles and saw there were several containing just the potions that Severus required, Harry uncorked a vial and handed it to Modia. She looked at him, eyes wide, swallowing it easily enough when Severus nodded.

“Oh Vesta!” Hermia screamed. Her scream was high-pitched, agonised. Severus’ hand was on her abdomen and he felt the violent seizure of the contraction. Rufus groaned as his young wife clutched at his hand and screamed again.

The potions seemed to have revived her a little and she began to rally, she released Rufus’ hand and then pushed herself up on her elbows, panting hard.

For the next wee while Hermia pushed whenever a contraction came, desperately trying to bring her baby in to the world. The afternoon advanced and full darkness came, but the child still was not born and Hermia began to weaken again. This time her exhaustion seemed much deeper. She moved less and did not clutch at her husband, she was giving up. All the while Severus and Harry tried to help. They soothed her, stroked her head, held her, supported her and gave her potions to help build stamina and dull pain. But at last she could give no more it seemed. Her strength failing totally, she fell back against her pillows barely breathing at all.

The other baby was wailing, a thin reedy cry, easily audible in the room next door and Severus realised that he did not even know what sex it was. How would it survive without its mother? They hadn’t lost Hermia yet, but she was fading very rapidly this time.

He thought one of the twins must have the baby as Modia and Virginia were still in the room. It was unusual in these times for men to attend a birth. The father was sometimes in attendance, but not always. Even he and Harry, in attendance as male healers, were unusual (though neither of them had any true capacity for healing, at least as far as Severus knew).

Normally some sort of midwife would be in attendance. Not that there would be many around who had the experience that Modia did. She had seven living children, that Severus knew of, and if one took into account the names of the twins, she had given birth to at least nine. She was well known in the district, and well respected, but she mostly kept to herself. Severus realised he and Harry had been extremely lucky to be taken under her wing. Perhaps there had simply been no other females that she wanted to trust with the birth. Severus couldn’t help wishing that there had been, then, perhaps, they would not be in the predicament that they were in right now. Oh what he wouldn’t give right now to have access to a true healer like Poppy Pomfrey.


Rufus sat beside his wife, his face etched with despair and Severus realised with a pang that they were just children themselves, really. Children who had suffered so much already, with the loss of their son two years before. To lose his wife now would destroy this young man, but Hermia could do no more. She had been in so much pain, she didn’t even have the energy left to weep.

“Come on sweetheart,” Modia whispered, tenderly stroking the girl’s hair. “You’re doing so well, lovely. You have to get the babe out, I know you are tired, but you need to push for a little longer. Please, Hermia, you’re going to be all right, we’ll look after you.”

Severus felt a flash of irritation, just for a second. They couldn’t promise her that. She seemed so frail and Severus didn’t think the potions were going to be enough. She had lost too much blood, she was weak and tired and she was a Muggle. The potions that Severus brewed did work to a certain extent, in fact, they worked very well. But with a magical person they worked even better. They stimulated the person’s own magic and created a strong healing reaction, but they could have no such effect on Hermia.

Finally, the increasingly fragile Hermia met his eyes, her own eyes were full of despair and sadness. Slowly, she smiled. It was such a fragile smile, like hand spun glass. It was a goodbye.

“NO!” Severus shouted, making everyone jump in shock. “You will not give up! We cannot lose you. I can not lose you!

“Harry, come here,” Severus said sharply. Harry had been mopping Hermia’s forehead, he looked up startled. “Quickly!”

Harry relinquished his place behind the girl and rushed over to Severus’ side. He grabbed the boy firmly by the upper arm and dragged him to the corner of the room.

The sobbing across the room intensified and a soft crooning sound drifted over. Hermia was fading fast. Severus had assumed that because Rufus had no tongue he made no sound, but it seemed he could still sing. He had climbed on the bed beside the dying girl, cradled her head in his lap and was gently stroking her hair singing what sounded like a lullaby, large, fat tears streaming down his cheeks.

Severus thought of the feisty young matron who had become such a part of their lives, the way she had teased Harry all those months before, encouraging him to come to Severus. Without her, Harry might never have plucked up the courage to approach him. He thought of her sad face when she had told Harry about the loss of her child, her laughing brown eyes on the day of Modia’s wedding. Severus was filled with dread at the thought they might lose her.

However, in the end, it would not be up to him; it would be up to Harry.

“Harry, I need you to help me.”

Severus thought of Harry living all these months without magic hardly at all, apart from the odd lesson, he needed him to access it again now. When the spring came and Apisus was more settled, Severus had planned to start teaching Harry magic properly again. All these months
Harry thought he hadn’t been using magic, but in actuality, Severus knew he had been, without even being aware of it. Apisus had healed far more rapidly than Severus’ potions could account for, the food that Harry made did not decay as rapidly as it should, the house stayed cleaner, the shop was always full, and they seemed to have phenomenal luck in everything they did. Yes, Severus thought, Harry was using magic almost constantly in tiny amounts and he had no idea at all.

Severus had often wondered what had attracted so many people to their shop so often, almost as if it were enchanted. He now realised that, denied a wand, Harry had been using his magic in other ways, almost as sympathetic magic. He had been making his life and Severus’, and probably Apisus’, lives better without even realising what he was doing. Harry’s magic had found a way to help him despite being denied a wand.

Harry’s magic was strong and it was pure. The boy, still innocent in many ways, had not yet killed anyone or hurt anyone deliberately. Knowing the boy as he did now, Severus doubted that he ever would or could. They needed strong, pure magic to help Hermia and that meant Harry’s magic.

“Hermia is exhausted, she needs energy, strength, she needs your magic, Harry,” he explained to the boy. “If she can just last a little longer the baby will be born, the birth is so close.”

“But I’ve barely used magic for months.”

“You may not have only just started using your wand, Harry, but you have been using magic ever since we arrived.”

“No, I haven’t!” Harry exclaimed.

“Harry, I think you have been using it, not deliberately, without even realising it. Making things happen, making things easier, without even knowing that you were doing it.”

“Do you really think I’ve been doing that? All this time, without realising it?”

“I do, Harry.”

“Erm…okay then, what do I have to do?”

“You have to channel your magic. There is no spell for this and Enervate will only work on a wizard. Hermia possibly has the same magic levels as a squib, but we could energise her. You could energise her, Harry.”

“Alright, I think I understand, but how?” Harry said.

Severus was a very particular man. He knew exactly how much comfrey went into a healing potion, how much Unicorn hair, how many dragon scales. He liked everything to be measured, correct. But Harry was not like that, Harry was much more about the un-measurable. If Severus was reason and rationality then Harry was heart and emotion. The possibility that Harry could control his magic enough to help Hermia was really all they could do to save the girl. She was too weak now, even for a caesarean, the baby was definitely too far down the birth canal. If Hermia had been too weak earlier she definitely wouldn’t survive the operation at this stage.

“You have to touch her,” Severus said. “You have to feel the magic inside yourself and you have to slowly but steadily release it. You have to let it flow into Hermia, share it with her. Do you think you can do that Harry?”

The boy just nodded and turned to go back to Hermia’s side. Severus grabbed him and pulled him back.

“Do you realise what I have asked of you? I have asked you to share your magic.”

“I know,” Harry whispered. “I know, Domine. But if I don’t do this, she is going to die. So I am going to do it.”

Severus shuddered, a part of him wanting to call the boy back, wishing he had not suggested such a thing. He knew that Harry would react like this. How could he not? Yet sharing magic just was not done. It was the very essence of self, the deepest most private part of oneself. A mother might do it to save her child and he knew that he would do it without a qualm to save Harry. But Hermia was almost a stranger to them, she was not even magical.

He opened his mouth to call Harry back, to tell him they would try something else, but no sound emerged; it was already too late anyway. Harry was back at the bed sitting beside Hermia. He looked down at her and smiled at her, then he lifted his hand and stroked the girl’s damp hair out of her eyes. He lifted her up so that he could hold her close and smiled at her.

“I’m going to help you, Hermia. I am going to give you some of my magic and it will help you be stronger. It’ll help you get the baby out, all right?”

Harry sounded so young, so uncertain. Focussing all of his attention on the girl, he didn’t seem to notice anyone else or their reactions, but Severus did. Rufus was staring at Harry, seemingly uncertain what to make of the statement. Modia had stiffened with shock, her surprised brown eyes met Severus’ own in question. Suddenly the whole room exploded in light and Severus was blown off his feet.


**********

It was much later – when both her new grandchildren were safely bundled up against the winter cold, well fed and recovering from their traumatic entrance into the world, and with Hermia healed, cleaned and settled in the newly remade bed, with her husband sleeping beside her – that Modia came to talk to him.

“Is your magic as strong as Harry’s, Severus? No, don’t answer that. I suppose that it would have to be, you are his master after all. I… I have never seen anything like that, felt anything like that before. I have seen spells and healings and things, but I have never…!” She had obviously run out of things to say.

“Harry is very powerful, but he has not really used his magic much since we arrived. That is why there was such a build up of power, I think.” Severus smiled dryly. “Harry never does anything by halves. He always tends to be a little bit overenthusiastic. The combination of those two things was obviously, well… explosive.”

“So I noticed. What happened?”

“The only way I could think of to help Hermia was to suffuse her with magical energy. But because of the baby, because it was such a delicate situation my magic would not have been suited. It is too dark; I have done too much, seen too much. It had to be Harry.”

“Does that often happen?” Modia, gestured around her at the tidied up devastation. Chairs had been righted again, broken glass swept up. Harry had shamefacedly done his best to help and probably did most of the work in the end. Severus thought ruefully that they would not have to hide their magic from Apisus after all, or from any members of Modia’s family ever again.

“Only when Harry looses control, so, yes, it does seem to happen with remarkable frequency,” Severus smirked with amusement. “Seriously though, it was not meant to be as powerful as that. There should have been a gentle glow of magical energy and Hermia should have been revived.” Severus’ smile was rueful this time. “And none of us should have ended up unconscious!”

“What Harry did, without it Hermia and my grandson would not have survived? She would never have been strong enough to complete the birth, would she?”

Suffering a splitting headache from Harry’s explosion of magic and being so near exhaustion himself, Severus could only summon enough energy to nod his head, acknowledging the truth of her statement.

“Then I truly don’t care. I don’t care that Harry blew up my house, that I have the worst headache of my entire life or that my fingers and toes are still tingling.” She gave him a look that seemed rather pointed. “Since you came here, Severus, you and Harry you have made our lives so much better. You have freed my sons, become my Paterfamilias and helped me marry Thomas. Between you, you and Harry you saved my grandchild and my Hermia, who is like a daughter to me. I will never, ever be able to thank you enough.”

She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you, Severus. Now I think you should take Harry and go home.”

Both of them looked over to the sleeping boy. Harry was curled up in his kittenish way on a long, low, padded bench in the corner of the workshop. The poor boy was completely exhausted at having expended so much magic. Having grown slightly and filled out nicely in the nine months since they had arrived, Harry no longer looked like a boy, but like the mature young man he was. But he still felt wonderful when Severus lifted him in his arms. Still fast asleep, he buried his face in Severus’ shoulder and wrapped his arm around Severus’ neck, then snuggled in closer still as Severus carried him back to their home.


*****************