There’s nothing you can know that isn’t known.
Nothing you can see that isn’t shown.
Nowhere you can be that isn’t where you’re meant to be.

When Severus Snape arrived at Spinner’s End, he welcomed its stillness, the layers of dust, the fraying curtains, and the faded carpet in the sitting room. He glanced at the yellowed wall, and his eyes landed on the familiar radio.

He was glad to be finally away from Hogwarts and a certain old, eccentric, meddling wizard who wore half-moon spectacles over his twinkling eyes and had a nasty habit of offering sweets to students and staff members at apparent random.

Then again, he thought, looks could be deceiving. The esteemed Hogwarts headmaster might be an old coot who was getting on years, but Severus knew better than to underestimate one of the greatest wizards known to the wizarding world.

Nonetheless, tonight’s conversation with the headmaster had left him unsettled to where he found himself wishing he could poke a liquorice wand up the headmaster’s crooked nose. Then again, maybe not. Knowing Albus, he’d enjoy the wand up there and make a comment such as, “Now it makes perfect sense why this sweet is long and thin!”

Severus rolled his eyes as his mind wandered back to the conversation he’d had earlier. In fact, he could not believe it was already a decade since that year, the year he’d failed to protect her . . .

At the end of summer, at the start of the new term, Severus would see him. The thought of it left him feeling rattled. He wondered if he had any of her traits, along with her green eyes.

Stifling another sigh, he threw himself on a chair. Next to him was the Muggle radio, the same radio he used to listen as a child. He stared at the thick layer of dust and spelled it away. Then he slowly reached out to flick it on.

First the radio spewed out static noises and indecipherable words. Severus fiddled with the knobs until he could hear something akin to music pour out of the speakers.

It was a song he hadn’t thought of for years; a song he had never quite liked because of its silly melody and lyrics. His fingers twitched, wanting to turn the radio off, but the dreadful song seeped into his mind.

“In the town where I was born, lived a man who sailed to sea. And he told us of his life, in the land of sub–”

The sound of water, the sea crashing against an unknown shore, a captain’s voice, and a brass band filled his sitting room.

Then, in his mind, another voice began to sing.

Severus stilled his hand.

“In the town where I was born, lived a man who sailed to sea. And he told us of his life, in the land of sub–”

“Lily!” Severus yelled, holding his hands against his ears for protection. “Stop!”

She ignored Severus and continued to sing, her voice loud and off-key. “–marines. So we sailed on to the sun, till we found the sea of green. And we lived beneath the waves, in our yellow submarine!”

Severus groaned and kept his hands on his ears, eyeing the back door of Lily’s house, hoping Mrs Evans would come out and tell Lily to stop her horrible singing.

Nobody came, so Severus was condemned to suffer until the song had ended. When she had — finally! — finished, Severus brought his hands down. She turned to Severus and said, “Come on! Sing with me!”

Severus recoiled in horror. “No! I am not going to sing!”

“Aw,” Lily said, her green eyes opened wide. “Why not? We’ll sing your favourite.”

“My favourite?” Severus stared at her, wondering if she had lost her mind. “I don’t have a favourite Beatles song.”

“Yes, you do.” Lily grinned and tossed her long red hair. “I heard you sing it before when I snuck up on you once. And stop glaring! You’re going to have a pinched forehead like Petunia if you constantly frown like that. Now come on. Sing! You say yes, I say no . . . ”

Severus gave a resigned sigh, and in a very monotone voice, completely the opposite from Lily’s belting vocals, he sang, “You say stop, and I say go, go, go.” That was what he did for the next hour. Lily would urge him to sing with her, and he’d sing, all flat and on one note, but that didn’t deter Lily. She just continued to sing happily and — unfortunately for Severus — horribly.

He didn’t mind, though. Not as much as he pretended to anyway.

He’d rather put up with Lily’s awful singing than listening to the daily arguments of his parents. Compared to their screaming and arguing, he found Lily’s voice beautiful . . . when she wasn’t singing.

Later, when he finally couldn’t postpone going home, he wondered if he should see if there were any potions that would improve someone’s singing quality. Better yet, he thought, maybe he could find some magical earplugs that were invisible when worn and that would block out someone’s off-key singing, but allowed the wearer to still hear everything else.

This idea had come to him last year when Lily suddenly had become interested with this band, but Severus had never acted on it because he didn’t mind Lily having fun with these awful songs. Mostly. He just hoped that she would improve one day.

“Hello, Severus.” Mrs Evans smiled. “Lily’s in the back. Do you want a jam tart before you go?”

He looked at the mouth-watering treats, something he’d never find in his own home. His pride made him decline them. “No, thank you. I’m still full from lunch.” He hurried away before she could insist and ignored his empty stomach’s protest.

Outside, he scanned the yard for Lily. She sat cross-legged under her favourite tree, where the afternoon sunlight peeked through the leaves above, creating a shadowy pattern. In her lap was a book, and she was smiling. Severus frowned slightly, realising that the smile on her face was different from her usual ones.

She smiled shyly when meeting someone for the first time. She had a polite, courteous smile that she always smiled (in fact it was hard to catch her not smiling). When she knew someone better, her smile was a bit more mischievous. When she had an idea, her smile grew knowing, secretive. And when she was with Severus, her whole face lit up.

The smile she had now was wide, and her eyes looked dreamy. That expression unnerved him; it was an expression he’d seen before, but he couldn’t remember where.

When he got closer, he saw it wasn’t a book but a magazine. He stopped in front of her, looked down, and stared at the gigantic pin-up poster of John Lennon. Lily was humming something, a very familiar tune that always made his stomach clench in disgust. Of all the Beatles songs, he found himself hating “Can’t Buy Me Love” most, and hearing her humming it made his ears hurt. As he tried his best to block out that tune, he glanced at Lily’s face once more, and that was when he realised where he’d seen that expression before. He’d seen it on Petunia when she’d been in love with that neighbourhood boy down the street.

Now Lily wore that same look. Did that mean she was in love with John Lennon?

Severus made a face at that thought. He hoped she hadn’t turned into a girl, like Petunia!

Lily looked up, finally noticing him, and asked, “What’s wrong with your face? Are you sick?”

“No, but what’s that?” He pointed at the magazine.

“A magazine.” Lily smirked at her answer as Severus resisted rolling his eyes. “Daddy got this for me. This has a lot of stuff about the Beatles. A lot of articles and posters. See? Look at this poster of John Lennon when he was younger! See that mop-top? I think that suits him waaaaay better than what he looks like now.”

He studied the two pictures, studied how different the Beatles had looked in the early 1960s compared to now. He could see that they had looked a lot cleaner when they had been younger, and then as they had grown older, they had turned into these messy people. He could not figure out who was who except for John Lennon, because of his glasses. “Do all grown-ups become this messy when they get older?”

“Maybe?” Lily shrugged as she went back to staring at the huge John Lennon poster. “He still looks good, though. I wish I could meet him one day. I wish I could go to their concert. I’m trying to convince Daddy and Mummy to let me go when I turn eleven. I’ll be all grown up by then, so they have to let me go! Do you think they’ll ever come here and perform?”

“I don’t know.”

“If they come here or any nearby cities, I’m going to go. Let’s go together, okay?”

Severus grimaced and took a step back. “I don’t think so,” he said fiercely.

“Aw, why not? I don’t want to go by myself. If you come with me, you can be my bodyguard! You already like wearing black, so you can wear that and protect me.”

Severus tried to figure out just what black had to do with bodyguards, but before he could ask, she stood up, set the magazine aside, and started singing a new song.

“Oh, please, say to me, you’ll let me be your man. And please, say to me, you’ll let me hold your hand!” Lily danced as she grabbed Severus’ hand. “Sing with me! We have to practise for when they come!”

“What do you mean practise?!” Severus asked as she yanked him around the yard.

“At the concert! When they sing, we have to sing along with them. So we need to memorise the lyrics and all.” She laughed and skipped around the yard, still holding Severus’ hand, and continued to sing, “Now let me hold your hand! I want to hold your hand!”

Once again, thanks to Lily’s convincing attitude, Severus found himself singing along with her off-key performance. Thank goodness she didn’t mind his flat singing, he thought. He didn’t fancy the idea of receiving singing lessons on top of all these Beatles songs.

It was cold when Severus woke up on the last day of the year. He blearily rubbed his eyes, and he sat up with a large yawn. He winced as he heard something crashing downstairs, followed by his father’s deep shouting and his mother’s softer sobs.

Already numb from the coldness in his room, he pulled his threadbare blanket tighter around him and lay back down on his lumpy mattress, curling himself into a foetal position and pulling the blanket over his head to block out the noises from below. Despite all his efforts, though, he could still hear everything through the thin walls. He heard his father’s cruel voice as he continued to yell at his mother. He heard the all familiar threats of him leaving them, and his mother begging him not to.

Unable to withstand it any longer, he got off his bed, stopped by the loo to do his business, and went to change into a pair of frayed jeans and an old but clean shirt. He slipped his feet into a pair of socks that had holes and into ratty-looking trainers which had once been white. Finally, he pulled on his coat, quietly crept through the house, and went outside.

He walked down the road, enjoying the blissful silence and trying to ignore the frosty winds that swept all over him. He pulled his coat’s collar up around his neck and ears and stuffed his hands deep into his pocket. In one of the side alley streets, away from the prying eyes of his neighbours, he jumped up and down and ran around in circles until he could feel himself getting warm.

Still, it was too cold to linger around, so he decided to go visit Lily and see if she wanted to play. He ran all the way to Lily’s house, and when he arrived, he could see his breath coming out in pants. Swallowing hard, he forced his breathing to slow down before he rang the doorbell.

Mrs Evans opened the door. Severus noticed that she appeared sad instead of her usual cheery self. “Oh, hello, Severus. You look chilled to your bones. Come on in!”

Inside, he quickly turned down her offers of tea and crumpets. “Thank you, but maybe later. Is Lily around?”

Sighing loudly, her face turned sad again. “She’s out in the back. I just checked on her five minutes ago, and she’s not ready to come back in yet. She’s quite . . . upset. Thank goodness she’s bundled up, at least. Go see her, love. Perhaps you can knock some sense into her so she’ll brood inside the house instead.”

“All right. I’ll–” Severus was cut off when Mrs Evans wrapped a fluffy muffler around his neck.

“There. We mustn’t let you catch your death of cold.” She finished tying the muffler and stepped back with a smile. “Go and bring her in soon. Otherwise, I’ll dig out my rubber crowbar and yank you two inside the house.”

Severus thanked her quickly, and he went outside. Just like that one time when she’d been fascinated by the magazine, he found her under the tree. Unlike last time, she didn’t have a silly smile on her face; instead, there were tears in her eyes. Worried, he wondered what had upset her. Quietly, he took a seat next to her on the hard ground.

“Hullo,” she said, pulling her knees closer to her chest and wrapping her thin arms around her legs.

“Hi,” he responded softly. “What’s wrong?”

Lily kept quiet, but her bottom lip began to quiver.

“Did Petunia do something to you?” he asked, alarmed.

She shook her head. “No. Not Petunia. It’s . . . it’s . . . ” She lost her control, and she burst into tears. She buried her face in her arms. Her shoulders heaved and shook.

Awkwardly, Severus put an arm around her shoulder, but barely touching her, afraid to upset her further. Then, without warnings, Lily turned and leaned into him, sobbing into his chest. His eyes now wide open, he slowly hugged her very stiffly.

They stayed like that for a few minutes as Lily’s sob subsided. Soon, she was only sniffling. He asked again, “What’s wrong?”

“Thebeebmamdumedinagoo.”

“The Bee Man made dinner goo?”

“No!” Lily pulled away from him and giggled before she remembered her pain and turned sombre again. “The Beatles are breaking up for good.”

He blinked. “For good?”

“Back in April, Paul McCartney had left the group. So I was waiting for Paul to realise how he was being silly and needed to come back to the group, but now . . . ” Her bottom lip began to quiver again. “I always thought they would stay together forever.”

Severus was slightly dismayed. He knew she really liked the band, but he didn’t think their break up would affect her this much. He couldn’t understand why she was so upset, but he didn’t want to see her so miserable.

“Here comes the sun, here comes the sun,” he began to sing the first song that came into his mind. “And I say it’s all right!”

She stared at him, open-mouthed. He continued to belt out the song, not caring that he sounded worse than she usually did. “Little darling, it’s been a long cold lonely winter. Little darling, it feels like years since it’s been here. Here comes the sun, here comes the sun . . . ”

“And I say it’s all right!” Lily finished in a shaky voice. They smiled at each other and continued to sing. It was one of their worst attempts at singing Beatles songs, and they most likely butchered the song to where Severus would have definitely preferred an earplug or three . . . but he didn’t care. Lily wasn’t crying, and that was more important than his ears.

Together they finished the rest of the song.

“Will you promise me something?”

They were back in Lily’s house, in the sitting room, eating and drinking Mrs Evans’ wonderful tea and crumpets. Severus was going to soak in all the warmth here before he had to return to his cold home and celebrate New Year’s Eve with his parents, hoping they wouldn’t fight for once, hoping they’d call a truce for tonight and perhaps even fight less in the New Year.

He looked into her serious green eyes, the same eyes he’d looked into for years. But now they appeared different. “What is it?”

“Promise me that we’ll always be friends, no matter what. Promise me that we’ll never break up like the Beatles.”

Severus slowly grinned. “I promise.” Lily was his true friend; he would always be loyal to her.

She smiled back, her green eyes becoming brighter. She grabbed his hand and laced their fingers together before saying, “Friends forever.”

He nodded and looked at their intertwined fingers and echoed her, “Friends forever.”

When the song ended, Severus finally turned the radio off. He leaned heavily against his chair and stared at the wall in front of him; an image of Lily, so beautiful with her long red hair and her endearing green eyes smiling at him, came to his mind.

He closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he saw her holding up a baby up to her bosom.

He had broken his promise.

Yet, maybe, there was another chance.

Make sure it was not in vain. Help me protect Lily’s son.

As Albus’ voice drifted away, Severus smiled sadly. “Friends forever,” he whispered. Lily looked at him and mouthed a single word.

Pools of sorrow, waves of joy
Are drifting through my open mind
Possessing and caressing me.

Severus rushed away from Spinner’s End, eager to get to the little clearing in the woods. It was a quiet clearing, surrounded by tall trees, currently covered with snow. This little clearing was a special place that he and Lily played in, both considering it their secret hideout.

As he walked down the snow-covered streets, he brought his cold hands up to blow at them, trying to warm them up. He shoved his hands into his pockets. The wind stung his cheeks, and he ducked his head down to avoid it. From the corner of his eyes, he saw the Christmas decorations still on some people’s houses, unlike his own dark, undecorated dwelling, and he was glad that Christmas was over.

When he reached the entrance of the clearing, he shoved the branches away and slipped past them, ignoring the snow that had fallen on his head, and he saw Lily already there, smiling. As usual, she had on a colourful matching set of hat, mittens, and a scarf. Her bright green eyes gleaming, she waved one of her mitten-clad hands. “Hi, Severus!”

He smiled back, but he didn’t wave, keeping his hands still in his pockets. “Hi, Lily. Did you have a good Christmas?”

“The best! How about you? Did you get some nice presents?”

He nodded briskly. “It was fine.” It wasn’t, but he had no intention of telling her that or that her little gift — a book about the Arthurian legends — was the only gift he’d received for the holidays. Quickly, he changed the subject. “I looked through one of my mum’s old books a couple of days ago. I discovered something called frostyworms. Apparently they are magical worms, some kind of flobberworm, and they can be found in snow. My mum said they can be found around here.”

That was before his father had started yelling at his mum. It was one of the worst fights he’d seen his parents have, and he could still hear the shouts and screams. He didn’t want to think of it, though, and he only thought about finding the frostyworms because he wanted to try the Snowflake Potion. He’d read that if it was poured onto an object, the potion would transform into snow for a while. Even though there was a lot of snow around him, he still wanted to try it since it would be quite handy to have in the summer. “Want to help look for them?” he asked, hoping she’d agreed. He knew how girls were about worms and bugs. He’d seen Petunia scream over spiders, cockroaches, and worms all the time.

“Sure!” Lily said enthusiastically, which surprised him. “Are they potions ingredients, too? You want to find them and practise potions, right? We’ll be turning eleven in another year or so.” She bit her bottom lip. “Do you really think I’ll get a Hogwarts letter, too?”

Severus nodded hard. He knew she was a witch, and he could tell she would be a good one. Last year, before they’d first talked, he had been watching Lily and Petunia from behind some bushes. Apparently Petunia did something to annoy Lily, and to his and Petunia’s amazement, Lily’s annoyance had made her do some wandless magic. Interestingly enough, Lily had made real petunias sprout out on top of Petunia’s head. Severus would never forget the look of horror on Petunia’s face, and now that he knew Petunia, he thought that was a fitting punishment for her! “You will. And we’ll go to Hogwarts together. I’m going to make the Snowflake Potion, and I’ll show you how it’s done.”

“That’d be great! But we have to dig for them, right? We’ll need shovels or something.”

Severus’ brows furrowed together. “Yeah.” He’d forgotten about that. Then again, his family didn’t have any shovels.

“We have two at my house! Let’s go get them.” Lily grabbed Severus’ wrist, tugging so his hand slipped out of his pocket. With his hand in her mitten-covered one, they walked out of the clearing and went towards her house. As they walked, he couldn’t help but revel in the fact that his hand felt warmer in Lily’s as opposed to in his pocket. It was strange because his pocket was usually much warmer. He shrugged, though, and let himself be dragged along by Lily’s enthusiasm.

“Oof!” Lily said, throwing a pile of snow over her shoulder. “Snow’s sure heavy.”

Severus grunted in agreement. “I can’t wait until we can legally do magic. It’d be easier to Accio these frostyworms.”

“That’s the summoning or another spell, right? It’d be easier, I agree, but I think this is more fun. And this is exercise — ah-ha!” Lily exclaimed. She pointed at something in the snow. “Is that your frostyworm?”

Severus looked at the wriggling worm. It was blue, fat, and squishy, and it looked rather . . . disgusting. More disgusting than the picture in his mum’s book. “I’m not touching that!”

Lily took off one of her mittens, stuffed it into her pocket, and reached out to grab the frostyworm. She picked it up gingerly between two fingers and brought the frostyworm close to her face and studied it. “I think it looks cute.”

Severus shook his head emphatically and made a face.

Lily giggled and stepped closer to Severus and practically shoved the frostyworm into his face. “Look at it.”

“Lily!” Severus shrieked and backed away. Shuddering he said, “I don’t want it near me!”

Rolling her eyes, she set the worm down on her other hand, watching it crawl around the woollen material. “How are you going to be a Potions master if you can’t stand the sight of your own ingredients?”

“How come you’re not like other girls who squeal when they see bugs and other creepy stuff?” Severus retorted.

“Please. I’m not like Petunia! I like this stuff. Maybe I should become a Potions master if I go to Hogwarts. Or should that be Potions mistress? No, that doesn’t sound quite right . . . ”

While she pondered on that, Severus pouted. Lily did have a point — he would have to get used to handling disgusting potions ingredients. And if Lily — a girl — could touch a frostyworm and not get sick, then by all means, so could he!

Determinedly, he pushed his disgust deep inside, and he reached out to touch the frostyworm in Lily’s hand. It did feel slimy and cold, but he repeatedly reminded himself that it wouldn’t hurt him, that it was a harmless little bug that he could overpower; after all, he was larger than the frostyworm!

He quickly got used to it, and eventually, he had the entire thing in his own hand.

Lily gave him a smug look. “See? It’s not bad.”

Snortling, he said, “Yeah, you’re right. It’s not so bad.”

“Good. Now, go make that potion!”

Severus came to the clearing first. Waiting for Lily, he sat on his haunches and he found a stick and drew random doodles in the snow. However, he had to stop every few minutes to warm his hands up. Whether he blew on them, put them in his pocket, or pulled his sleeves over them, it didn’t work. His hands were too cold.

When Lily finally arrived, he stood up and threw the stick aside. “Hi.”

“Hi. I had to do chores with Petunia, but she was too busy complaining and whining. Honestly. She’s older than me, but I feel like I’m more mature than her!” Lily grabbed the stick he had thrown, and she continued his drawing. “You’re lucky you’re an only child.”

Severus agreed and disagreed with her statement. He thought about how lonely it was to be an only child, but if he had to have a sibling like Petunia — who was not only a cow, but an evil, soul-sucking cow — he’d rather eat dirt! “I guess,” he said noncommittally.

“How’s your potion?”

“It’s kind of hard,” he admitted, “but it’s just that my hands get too cold at home. Our house’s heating system has its good and bad days.” Truthfully, his house had no heat since his father hadn’t paid the bills for this month, but he decided not to tell Lily the entire truth. He bit his lip. He didn’t like talking about his home situation with her.

“Oh, I see.” She looked thoughtful. “Well, I’m in a mood for hot chocolate. Plus, Mummy made raspberry tarts. Mummy knows you like her tarts. Let’s go to my place and get some.”

Hot chocolate and raspberry tarts . . . things he didn’t have at his house. And there was also the fact that Lily’s house was heated, and Severus longed for that warmth. Something his own home lacked in more ways than one. Trying not to appear too eager, he said, “All right.”

Hand in hand, one in mitten and one in nothing, they walked down the snow-covered streets to Lily’s house.

Severus was bored. And cold. And sick of staying in his house. Then there were his parents. He could tell that both of them were in bad moods, so another one of their famous fights would happen soon. Sighing, he decided to go see if Lily was free.

He walked through the cold streets, and he saw that the blasted Christmas decorations were still up on some people’s houses. It was almost New Year’s. Why did these people not take down the cheerful decorations? Seeing them only reminded him of his home life and what he lacked. All his life, his family had never decorated for Christmas. No wreath, no stockings, no nothing. His place was always cheerless.

At the next intersection, he turned at the corner of Lily’s street, and there he saw Lily running towards her house.

“Lily!” he called out.

She stopped and smiled. “Hi!”

“Want to play?” he asked hopefully.

She frowned slightly. “Oh, I want to, but I can’t today. I’ve got stuff to do.”

“Oh.” Awkwardly, he shuffled his feet. “Maybe later then?”

“Sure! I’ll see you.” She waved and dashed off.

Forlornly, he stared at Lily’s retreating figure, and he let out a sigh. Well, he thought, he could always go to the public library nearby. That was surely a better idea than standing around in the cold. In the opposite direction, he walked slowly to the library, wishing Lily was there to accompany him.

“Oh, Seveeeeerus.”

Severus stifled back a groan and bit his tongue from going on a rampage at the annoying voice that called out to him. Even though his back was turned to the person, he knew exactly who it was. There was only one person who had that annoyingly high-pitched, screeching voice, and the person was none other than Petunia Evans.

Taking a deep breath, he turned around to face Petunia with a blank expression. “Yes?”

Her smile, which looked fake and ugly on that long face of hers, grew wider as she said, “Why are you alone? Do you have no one else to play with now that Lily has a new friend?”

“Friend?” Severus’ eye widened. “What friend?”

“Oh, she didn’t tell you?” Petunia looked surprised. “Well, she’s so occupied, so I guess it’s not surprising she wouldn’t make the time to tell you.”

Even though he was upset, he decided he didn’t want Petunia to know that her words had upset and surprised him. “Oh, right, that friend. I know. So?”

She snorted, which reminded him of a horse. Then again, her face was indeed long, so he could definitely see the resemblance. “You’re a terrible liar. But whatever. It won’t be long before Lily realises that her new friend’s a lot better than you.” With that, she flounced off.

Severus, at that moment, had never hated anyone this much. “You’re the liar. Lily would tell me if she’s got a new friend!” he snapped at the empty street. He stomped in the opposite direction. He was furious — not only at Petunia’s words, but he was also miffed for showing his weakness to her. He remembered reading about Occlumency, and he decided he’d master that when he turned older, and he’d also learn how to mask his face from showing any emotions that would give him away. He would never let anybody like Petunia mock him again!

Severus managed to catch Lily outside her house a few days later. He grabbed her hand, which was in her richly coloured mitten as usual, and he noticed his pale hand contrasting against the vibrant material. “Lily, can we talk?”

“Hmm?” She glanced down at her watch. “Not now. I’ve got a meeting with someone today! An important meeting.”

He stepped back and let go of her hand as if he’d been slapped. “I see . . . ” Maybe Petunia was telling the truth. “Well,” he continued blandly, “have fun.” He turned around and ran off, ignoring her calls of “Severus, wait!”

He ran and ran until his stomach cramped, and when he came to their secret hideout, he fell down on top of the snow, not caring that his clothes would get wet. Hot tears came down his face, and he muffled his sobs by stuffing his hand into his mouth. Sod it all, he thought. If Lily had found a new friend and chose that person over him, then forget her! He didn’t need her or his parents! He only needed himself. At least, that was what he tried to convince himself for the rest of the day. Whether he succeeded or not, he didn’t care too much on that. Deep inside, more than anything, he only wanted Lily’s friendship.

But it looked like even his friendship with Lily was deteriorating. He miserably realised that with his birthday around the corner, this was the worst present he could ever receive.

A few days later, his birthday came. His mother had wished him a happy birthday while his father just ignored him. But Severus did not feel happy. Instead, he moped around his room in the morning. He’d stared at the blank walls and studied its cracks. That got boring, so he went to his hideout to mope and stare at the tree’s trunks, its branches, and all the snow around him. It wasn’t much better than his room, but at least he could get some peace and quiet here instead of listening to his parents arguing.

Like before, he found a stick, and he crouched to the ground and drew in the snow without really thinking about what he was drawing. When he finished he stood up and saw that he’d drawn Lily. In the drawing, her hair was down, and she was smiling that friendly smile of hers. He felt a pang in his heart, and he let out a loud sigh. “What am I doing?” he muttered to himself.

Throwing the stick, he was about to erase the drawing, but he froze when he heard a noise behind him. He blinked when he saw Lily coming into the clearing, and he gave her a wary look.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hi,” he repeated.

“I, er, wanted to wish you a happy birthday.”

He didn’t say anything. He only stared down at his feet with a scowl.

“And to apologise.” His head snapped up and he stared at her. She gave him a small smile. “I found out what Petunia said to you. What she made you believe is all a lie. I . . . I didn’t make a new friend. But it is true I had an important meeting . . . but it was with my aunt!” She made a face. “I was doing something with her.”

“Oh . . . ” Severus now shifted uncomfortably. “It . . . it’s okay. I didn’t believe her anyway.”

Lily cocked her head and stared at him. Her green eyes were intense, and he almost could feel them burning into her, but he refused to blush and show her that she was right. Thankfully, she only nodded. When he saw her arms move, he realised that they’d been behind her back this entire time. “Here,” she said, revealing a wrapped package. “It’s your birthday present.”

This time he couldn’t hide his emotion. His eyebrows shot up, and his mouth dropped opened. “What?”

She beamed. “This was why I hadn’t played with you lately. I had to finish this in time for your birthday! Take it!” She nudged the package, and he accepted it. “Now, open it!”

“T-thank you.” The words almost didn’t come out from his clogged up throat. Slowly, he unwrapped the green-coloured paper, and he peeked inside. What he saw were mittens. Rainbow-coloured mittens. He looked at her.

“My aunt taught me how to knit those.”

He looked down at the mittens and studied them closer. He saw that the thumb coverings were a bit on the wide side. He could see small holes and tangled up yarn in some places. One mitten was slightly bigger than the other. The colours blinded him. Honestly, it was probably the worst pair of mittens he’d ever seen.

But he didn’t care.

This was the first time anyone had ever made him something.

All sorts of emotions flooded over him, and Severus ducked his head to hide the tears that threatened to spill. He blinked them away, and he said softly, “Thank you. They’re brilliant.” Shoving the wrappings into his pockets, he slipped the mittens on his hands. As soon as his hands were encased in the imperfectly made mittens, he felt them grow instantly warm.

“Oh, I’m glad they fit!” Lily squealed, clapping her hands. “And I know you like black, but I decided to knit you a rainbow pair. You need more colour in your life, Severus! Being in black all the time is utterly depressing!”

“But I like black.”

“You’re hopeless,” she joked. “Just like your drawing skills. Since when do I have gigantic lips?”

Severus gave her a mock glare. “You’re the one to talk. You can’t even draw period!”

“Hey! Not nice!” She quickly bent over and made a snowball.

Before Severus could stop her, the snowball hit his face. “Payback time!” He made his own snowball, and he was pleased to see that his hands stayed warm as he threw it at her.

Laughter rang out in the small clearing, and snow went flying all over the place as they both tried to snow each other out. Severus’ drawing of Lily disappeared, and the two of them shrieked and yelled as they chased each other all over.

It wasn’t long before they both leaned against a tree and panted from their chase. “That was fun,” she said, her eyes twinkling.

“Yes,” Severus agreed. Staring up at the trees, he could see sunlight coming through the branches. The warmth he felt from the sun and from running around with his best friend made him smile wider. “It was fun.”

“Let’s end today with some hot chocolate at my place. And cake.” She grabbed his hand, no longer naked and cold. “I helped make it! Don’t worry. Petunia didn’t go anywhere near the cake. So it won’t have salt or any other disgusting thing in it. I swear, she can’t cook anything!”

Again, his throat tightened, and he could only nod. She gently tugged him, and hand in hand, they walked down the street.

“Tomorrow, let’s go look for more frostyworms. We’ve got to cure you of your bug-and-other-crawly-stuff-phobia.” Lily grinned. “I’ll make sure you become the best Potions master in the world.”

Finding his voice, Severus answered, “Deal. You can be my partner-in-crime as we come up with new potions that will change the world!”

“And,” she added, “I’ll get you to wear more colours.”

Severus groaned. “Whatever.”

“Watch me!”

When they entered Lily’s warm house, Severus said to himself, “You already have me in colours.” He looked at their entwined hands. “I am in colour now.”

The final battle was over.

Through dragons, hexes, goblins, sword fighting, giants, and the unforgivables, Voldemort had finally been vanquished.

Through past experiences, Albus and Severus knew that the Avada Kedavra curse wouldn’t work against the Dark Lord, so Severus had researched and found an answer. The answer was that of an old spell – so ancient that even Voldemort himself hadn’t known about it. Despite Sirius’ complaint about the “greasy git” teaching him a “DARK spell”, Severus trained Harry and he succeeded.

After Voldemort’s fall, the remaining Death Eaters tried to escape, but the aurors and the members of the Order captured many. One of them was Peter Pettigrew. Arthur Weasley took over Cornelius Fudge’s position and became the new Minister of Magic. He pardoned Sirius and now the Animagus was able to know the joy of being a free man once again.

A few days after the final battle, Sirius, Severus, Remus, and several aurors went to scope out the Riddles’ manor. They were told to look for dark artefacts and other objects in the old house. During the assignment, the aurors had the honour of seeing another infamous Snape and Black dispute.

“Why the hell did you ever let Harry learn something like that?!” Sirius glared at Severus, still not forgiving him for what he had forced Harry to do or for his past treatment of the boy.

Severus rolled his eyes. “Please, Black. Spare me the melodrama of an idiotic Gryffindor.” He continued to make his way to the entrance of the manor. “We killed Voldemort and that’s all that matters in this ridiculous situation, isn’t it?”

Sirius fumed. “You greasy git, you are a good for nothing. Nothing at all.”

Severus ignored him and continued to make his way toward the front door. They all entered and started their search.

Sirius searched through several rooms of the house, finding nothing. Finally, he came to the last area he had been assigned to: Voldemort’s private rooms.

Sirius looked around. Like its predecessors, this room was also dark and gloomy. The space was large. In its centre stood an enormous four-post bed, covered with velvet and satin sheets, blankets and heavy bed curtains in dark Slytherin colours. An oriental rug was spread out beneath the bed. Shelves upon shelves of books lined the western wall, and a green armchair and small table were positioned in front of the fireplace. Lastly, on both sides of the bed were night tables, each with a single drawer.

After flipping through book after book, looking under the chairs and bed, and searching inside the fireplace, he paused at the night tables. The drawer on the right revealed nothing, but when he opened the one on the left, he discovered a pensieve.

“Unbelievable. Even he needed one?” Sirius raised his wand and checked for any curses. There weren’t any. He was about to leave the room to show the others what he had acquired when he paused in curiosity.

“Hm . . . if I look into the pensieve, I wonder if I’ll find proof that Snape truly was a traitor and that he joined Voldemort of his own free will to torture us Marauders, minus Peter. With his extensive knowledge in the Dark Arts, I think it’s appropriate that the others and I make sure he doesn’t become ambitious enough to be the next Dark Lord,” thought Sirius.

Sirius continued to stare at the pensieve in his hands. On its own, the object appeared innocent enough, but knowing whom it belonged to made him shudder, both with apprehension and intense curiosity.

He glanced around to make sure that no one was around to see him, and then shrunk the pensieve and pocketed it. He walked out with a smug expression on his face.

“I finally get to sack him with this pensieve as evidence.” With that thought in mind, he left, never knowing that Severus was hidden in the corner, with an expressionless look on his face.

As soon as he got to his rooms at Hogwarts, provided kindly by Albus, he slammed the door and spelled it locked. He walked up to the bed and fell back on it in exhaustion, sprawling out lazily. In that position, he dug through his robe’s pockets to find the mini-pensieve. After growing it back to its original size, Sirius once again stared at it.

After a while, he set the object down next to him on the bed and gazed around the room. His quarters weren’t very large, but they were big enough to accommodate Sirius, and it was cosy due to the warm, steadily burning fireplace. As for contents, the room itself was nearly bare. Sirius really didn’t have time to settle down – he’d only been a free man for a few days, and had been busy hunting down the Death Eaters and dark artefacts.

Sirius sighed to himself. While Arthur did pardon him, he knew that many still didn’t believe he was innocent. Especially Severus. He scowled. Severus would never believe him innocent, even if the truth were written on his beaky nose, for Merlin’s sake!

Grabbing the pensieve, he sat up quickly and decided to get this over with. As much as he wanted proof that Severus was guilty, he shuddered at the thought of going through Voldemort’s mind.

With a deep breath, he brought his wand to the pensieve and looked into the supposedly harmless bowl.

In the glassy surface of the pensieve, he saw trees. Looking closely, he noticed that those trees were part of the Forbidden Forest. The moon was full, but it was beginning its waning stages. He saw a figure hunched on the ground, its back against a tree. Gazing closely, he was surprised to see that the form was Severus.

Sirius grimaced and lowered his face to touch the contents of the pensieve so that he might get a closer look. He felt the expected pull, and then the sensation of passing through an icy cold vortex before eventually landing a few feet away from Severus.

He glanced around. The trees looked ominous in the dark night, making him shiver involuntarily. Strange. When he was in his Animagus form, he didn’t feel the fear, but as a human, he realised he was more vulnerable. He knew he wasn’t going to get hurt in this realm, at least he hoped he wouldn’t.

Sirius’ gaze went back to the slight form. With his knees pulled up to his chest, his arms wrapped around his legs, and his head bent as if he was crying, Sirius could tell he was off in his own world.

He was mumbling to himself.

Sirius couldn’t hear a word, so he walked up closer to the Slytherin.

“Damn, Dumbledore,” said Severus, breathing out in frustration. “He always favours the Gryffindorks. We Slytherins are always the bad ones. So if one of us is nearly murdered, he just makes us promise not to tell a soul, and gives the culprits detentions.”

The onlooker snorted. “So the prat is having a little self-pitying party. Funny. I suppose with an attitude like his, the only sympathy he’ll ever get is his own.” Sirius listened on.

“Black deserves more. Murderers like him ought to be sent to Azkaban. But no, he’s the kind-hearted boy everyone loves, Potter’s sidekick.”

Ironically, Sirius wondered whether or not Severus knew back then that his declaration was going to be fulfilled.

“Why was he able to get off so freely? I know if anyone from my house had tried to do what Black did, we’d be expelled and get sent to Azkaban at best. Other houses would have gotten off easily also. This whole predicament, and Dumbledore’s unfairness is an unjustifiable -”

” – act.” The pensieve Severus and the real Sirius both jumped at the sound, as a new voice interrupted Severus’ monologue. “I very much agree, Mr. Snape.”

Severus jumped up from his position on the ground and pulled his wand out. He snarled, “Who are you?! How dare you eavesdrop on me?”

A tall man came into view from behind the shelter of a cluster of trees not far away from where Severus stood. He had his hands spread out in front of him to indicate he meant no harm.

Severus put his arm down, his shoulders sagging in relief, yet his expression remained guarded. “Oh, good evening, Mr. Riddle.”

“Riddle?” Sirius whispered unbelievingly. “That’s Riddle? You mean Voldie, the ugly, was actually shaggable back then?” He gawked at the man who had to be Voldemort’s younger self. Sirius swallowed and studied the future Dark Lord. “Mr. Riddle” was dressed in an elegant forest green robe, and from the way it was shining in the moonlight, Sirius could tell that it was made of an expensive brand of silk. The man was taller than Severus by a few inches and was about the same height as himself. Sirius knew that he was closer to about fifty years old, but looked as if he wasn’t a day over thirty. His black hair was cut short and looked luxuriously healthy. His eyes, however, captured Sirius’ attention. He was so used to seeing the deformed Voldemort’s red eyes that discovering the brilliant and shadowy dark-green surprised him.

Voldemort, or in actuality, Tom Riddle, smiled at Severus and shook his head to get the bangs out of his eyes. “Haven’t seen you for a while, Severus. You were supposed to visit Lucius this winter holiday.”

Without looking at Tom, Severus answered coldly. “I was busy. I felt like staying back this year.” He sat back down on the ground and stared at the dirt.

“I see,” Tom nodded. “Shame though. We all missed you.”

Severus didn’t say anything.

Tom let out a sigh. “Okay, Severus, enough with this attempt at a conversation. What happened?”

“None of your business,” was the curt answer.

“Okay. You are right. This really isn’t any of my business. But I do care about you, Severus, and I’d like to see if I can help.”

Sirius rolled his eyes. “Right. He’s going to offer Snape a chance to get back at the Marauders and all he has to do is to join the Death Eaters.”

“What can you do? Dumbledore, that idiot of a Headmaster, has the final say in whatever happens here.”

Tom smiled. “True. But what I meant was that perhaps you’d like someone to talk this over with.” Stretching himself out, he sat down on the ground in front of Severus. “You can talk to me. I won’t bite. Last time I checked, I wasn’t a cannibal.”

Severus stiffened at the last comment. “I see.”

A round of silence passed before Severus asked, “What are you doing here? This place is far from the Malfoy’s manor.”

“I had some business to do in the Forbidden Forest. After doing so, I decided to walk around here and came upon you talking to yourself.” Tom paused. “So what happened?”

Severus muttered something that sounded like “persistent bastard” before going on, “Nothing. Just a prank that went a bit far.”

“Oh?” Tom raised an eyebrow. “How far?”

“Far enough that I nearly died last night,” Severus snarled. “Does that answer your question?”

Tom nodded slightly. “Pretty much.”

“Then kindly go away.”

“If that’s what you want, then I’ll do so.” Tom got up and dusted himself off. “But first, let me accompany you out of here. You are still a minor, so if you get hurt or something were to happen to you, it would be my responsibility.”

Glaring, Severus reluctantly stood up. They both started walking back toward the castle, and Sirius followed them. No one said anything until they reached the end of the forest. Severus was about to turn to make his way to the entrance when Tom called out something.

“You are free to owl me sometimes, Severus. I’ll be willing to listen and talk with you. You are truly an interesting person.”

Severus stopped and turned around. “Thank you.”

Tom smiled handsomely and walked off.

“Thank you for saying I’m interesting . . . you are the first to say so to me, ever,” Severus said this so softly that Sirius almost didn’t catch it.

Blinking, Sirius gazed at his new surroundings. He glanced around the room and immediately noticed the elaborate decorations and designs. This must’ve been a guest room in the Malfoy manor. He saw Tom sitting at a desk. Moving in to get a closer look, he discovered that there were two sheets of parchment on the desk. Sirius quickly read over the one nearest him.

Mr. Riddle,

Remember your generous request of lending an ear? If you aren’t busy this upcoming weekend, could you come up to Hogsmeade? It is Hogsmeade weekend for us students, and I figured this would be the best time to meet outside of Hogwarts. If you’ve got other business to attend to, then I understand.

Cordially,
Severus Snape

After reading that, Sirius briefly remembered Severus receiving an owl at the Slytherin’s table. He thought quickly and noted that Severus did indeed get that particular owl a couple of days before the Hogsmeade weekend, and it shocked those that were paying attention to see him get an owl. Of their six years together, that was the first time Sirius and the other Marauders witnessed such an incident.

After pulling himself back from memory lane, he glanced at the other parchment and saw that Tom had finished his letter and was now reading what he had written. Mystified, Sirius read along.

Severus,

Of course it wouldn’t be a hassle for me to meet you this weekend. I always can make time for someone like you. Now how about meeting me at Hog’s Head, about four o’ clock. That shall give you plenty of time to do your excursions. I’ll be waiting.

Tom

PS – Don’t call me “Mr. Riddle”. Tom will do.

The settings changed again immediately. Sirius recognised the place as Hog’s Head, the familiar grimy, murky bar that attracted strange folks

He saw Severus entered and look around for Tom. When Severus finally located him, he walked into the darkest corner of the room and sat across from the older man. Sirius stalked over to the area and eavesdropped.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Rid -, I mean Tom.”

Tom let out a great big smile before answering, “Good afternoon to you, Severus. What would you like to drink?”

“Butterbeer, please.”

Tom signalled a man over to their table and asked for one butterbeer and firewhiskey for himself. After they got their drinks, and Tom made sure they were in clean glasses, he initiated the conversation.

“So what do I have the pleasure of your company today, Severus?”

Uncomfortably he shifted his posture, but never once his bland expression wavering. “I just wanted to talk to someone. Someone who would listen. I hope you don’t mind me for making you come out for no particular reasons . . . ”

With a wave of his hand, he brushed off Severus’ subtle apology. “No reason to be sorry. I told you that I am available for you anytime, and being with you is most certainly not a waste at all. But honestly, don’t you have any other people to talk to? Like a fellow Slytherin?”

“I am not open with many people my age. The other Slytherins view me ask a weak figure, just because I can’t defend myself from the Marauder’s pranks. And of course we all know I am not friends with the students from the other houses -” Sirius chortled in the background.” – so I have no one else really. I am a loner by nature.”

“What about your parents?” Tom asked, leaning forward with his hands in front of his face, clutched together. “Aren’t you close with your father? From what I’ve seen and heard, he seems to value you.”

A bitter look came upon Severus’ face. “When we are in public, he acts so proud of me, but really, at home, he despises me. He says I am nothing but a disgrace to the Snapes.”

“How so?”

“Because of my skills.”

“What of your skills?”

Severus glared at Tom. “With all due respect, sir, you never relent, do you?”

Tom smirked. “No, I don’t.” His smirk disappeared and a serious look replaced his face. “I don’t care if I have to tell you this a hundred of times, but I really do care and even if I have to force you to say something to prove I do, I will.”

Still scowling, Severus didn’t say anything.

“So, what of your skills, Severus?”

” . . . He just doesn’t like my interest in potion making . . . ”

“Why not? Potion making is an art. A skill that requires more than just mixing up ingredients together.”

Severus relaxed his posture a bit, glad that he found someone who understood the precise meaning of potions. “My father doesn’t see it that way. He prefers me to delve into the Dark Arts. Ever since I was young, he made me read books on the subject and when I finally got my wand the summer before going to Hogwarts, he made me practise the spells constantly.”

“I see. So you aren’t into the Dark Arts, then?”

Severus shook his head. “I like learning about them. It’s an interesting concept. But I prefer potions, a procedure that I can be infallible with. Potion allows me to do that.”

“So does the Dark Arts,” Tom interjected.

“Yes. They do. But the subject just isn’t . . . me.”

Nodding understandingly, he reached over to touch Severus’ shoulder. “I understand. No offence to you, but potion never was fascinating to me as it is to you.”

“Potion really isn’t for anybody, just like the Dark Arts not being for everyone either,” Severus said this wisely.

“So your father would rather see you do something like Dark Arts because he’s into it?”

He nodded. “He’d rather see me be into anything but potions. He claims that anyone can brew something simple as a calming potion. He’d rather see me interested in something as Transfigurations.” He sipped his butterbeer and scowled. “Something he claims that Black is excellent at.”

Sirius jumped at the sudden mention of his name.

“Black . . . ? You mean Sirius? The great-great-grandson of Phineas Nigellus?”

Severus nodded. “I believe so, yes. You know they are related?”

Tom laughed heartily. “I read Hogwarts: A History enough to remember he was the least popular headmaster. And I do keep updates on pureblood families. Families like yours, Severus.”

“Unfortunately for me, my father and Black’s mother are real good friends. I hear so many things about him from father, even though his mother seems to be rather edgy with him these days. But my father seems to respect him enough.”

Tom studied him intently. “So are you jealous of that respect?”

He didn’t say anything. Instead he stared down into his drink.

“There are so many reasons why I’m jealous of Black, but . . . ” Severus hesitated, “I guess that’s one of the reasons why.”

Neither of the men said anything. Both sipping their drinks and staring off into space peacefully. As the evening drew near, more and more people, who looked dodgier than the two sitting in the corner, came in. Severus glanced at the clock above Tom’s head and realised it was already six-thirty. Tom saw where his companion was looking at and smiled.

“I guess you should be heading back now.” He stood up, and Severus followed his actions. “This has been an enjoyable time for me, Severus. I do hope we do this more often. Remember, I am free whenever you need me. Oh and don’t bother about the drinks. They are my treats.”

A small smile played on Severus’ lips. “Thank you for the drinks, Tom. And I really did appreciate the time we spent together as well.”

Tom walked Severus to the exit of the bar, “Feel free to owl me to schedule another time, alright?”

Severus nodded and walked off. After watching him stride away to Hogwarts, Tom turned and went back into Hog’s Head. Walking back into the corner, Sirius saw that a new person was occupying the space, Lucius Malfoy.

Sirius growled to himself. Turmoil of emotion was going through him once again. He wasn’t very happy at seeing Malfoy at all. He was also confused by Tom’s actions and by Severus’ enigmatic words.

“What in the bloody name does he mean by being jealous of me? I bet you he has no reasons. In fact, I probably have more reasons to be jealous and resentful of him! Not surprising the way my mum would always gush about Mr. Snape’s only son!” Sirius muttered under his breath.

His reverie was cut off by Tom’s laughter.

“Yes, Lucius. Severus does show potential. He will be a great asset to our circle of Death Eaters. His potion expertise will come in handy and so will his curses. After hearing about what his father made him do, I can see that the rumours about him knowing more curses and hexes than any other first years is true.”

Lucius bowed his head. “Yes, my Lord. I was rather surprised to see him be so intimate with his wand and the spells. Surprised me immensely.”

“Yes, yes. I’ve got my work to cut out for me though. Apparently that boy needs a friend and a father figure that will treat him with respect. I will give him that.” Tom’s eyes became shadowed. “In fact, I think that even if I didn’t have an ulterior motive in this whole event, I’d still try to be a friend to him. He reminds me of myself when I was younger . . . ”

“You are too kind, my Lord.”

Tom smiled not so benevolently. “I am, Lucius. I am.”

Before Sirius had enough time to contemplate on what he had just heard, the scenery changed once again. He found himself back at the Malfoy’s manor once again, in Tom’s room. In front of him, was the fireplace with two comfortable looking armchairs. The fire wasn’t lit, and the chairs were occupied. Tom sat on the right, while Severus was in the left.

“I am glad you accepted the Malfoy’s invitation to come here for the summer holidays,” Tom sipped his tea and set it back down on the small tea table in front of him.

Severus had a cup of tea also, sipped his and held it in his hand, concentrating on the warm colour of the milky brown substance. “I’m glad as well.”

“Are you looking forward to going back to Hogwarts for your last year?”

“I guess . . . ” He trailed off and shrugged. “School is no longer a place I consider a blissful sanctuary anymore.”

Tom nodded supportively. “Simply amazing how someone who’s supposedly a good person can ruin his students, whom he supposedly cares.”

Sirius noticed that Severus looked uncomfortable about the subject of Albus, and Tom changed the subjects quickly.

“Anyways, Severus, I have something that might interest you.” Reaching over on the other side of the armchair, furthest away from Severus, he picked up a book that Sirius had somehow missed seeing. He handed it over to Severus. “Here. I think you will enjoy making experimental potions, and since Professor Singh highly favours your skills and allows you to use the spare lab near the dorm, you will have no problem doing this project.”

Severus’ mouth dropped open and that eased away his “permanent” scowl and made him look more human. He was so shocked that he didn’t accept the book. “That’s . . . that’s . . . ” He swallowed and found his tongue again. “That’s the fifteenth century book about rare potions from everything to love potions to distress potions!”

Smiling, Tom shoved the book into the offered hands. “Use it well. I found this book during my travels in the earlier days and kept it. But since I lack the skills you have, I figured that passing this book along to you will be more beneficial.”

Severus’ fingers closed over the books, holding them without any ounce of pressure, for the fear that it will get damaged if handled not so gently. “Thank you . . .  I don’t know what to say.”

“Don’t thank me, Severus.” Tom had a peaceful look on his face. “This gesture is the same one I would have done if my son, which I haven’t had yet, was dedicated to potions, just like you.”

Feeling the proverbial shift, Sirius found himself at a new place. A place he doesn’t recognised. He looked around and saw that he was at some sort of a graveyard. He looked straight ahead and saw many robed bodies. Their backs were to Sirius and they were bent as if they were bowing to someone. Walking up to the front, he saw Tom as Voldemort and two people that were dressed as Muggles.

Sirius winced as he heard the well-known demonic, cold voice spoken coolly. Strange how after seeing the “nice” Voldemort, hearing the melodic, husky voice, he couldn’t help but see why people were drawn to him. Apparently there were two sides to that man. The decent side was probably used to recruit followers and then the immoral side was used during Death Eater’s businesses. He couldn’t help but remember Lily talking about Hitler and how his speeches and his voice drew people to him. Similar things seemed to apply to Voldemort as well.

“Walden and Lucius, show me your loyalty to me. Torture these good for nothing, Muggles.”

The two spoken men came up from the group and bowed even lower. “Yes, my lord,” they both replied. They sneered at the trembling Muggles and each went to their jobs.

Walden took the female and immediately cast the Cruciatus Curse. Lucius used Imperio on the remaining Muggle and ordered the man to start ripping off the clothes of the female. He then ordered the man to pick up the knife that Lucius threw on the ground and start slashing the woman, after Walden petrified the woman. She couldn’t move or scream, but Sirius saw that she was struggling against the Petrificus Totalus spell and was draining of her energy.

Sirius felt sick. The other Death Eaters around him and Voldemort looked amused. The Death Eaters were laughing and screaming in delight. Occasional shouts of encouragement cheered out.

The woman slowly bled to death, her own blood seeping out from the many wounds was blending into the dark soil. Walden neutralised the petrifying spell and the woman took her last breath and died. Lucius stopped the Imperio curse and the man fell to his knees, sobbing and muttering incoherently about how he killed his own wife. At this point, Voldemort stepped up and said the two most feared words.

With a bored expression, he waved his wand and said “Avada Kedavra.” The man slumped to the ground and was dead on the spot.

Voldemort motioned for the bodies to be moved somewhere else. He spoke up again. “Now that’s one ways to get rid of Muggles.”

All the Death Eaters laughed and bowed their head.

“We are slowly gaining more followers. But we still aren’t enough to take on larger attacks. And with that miserable fool Dumbledore around, the Muggle-loving bastard, we can’t do much yet.”

One extremely stupid Death Eater piped up. “So it is true? The only person you are afraid of confronting right now is Dumbeldore? The same renowned wizard that defeated Grindenwald over thirty years ago?”

Voldemort’s eyes blazed with anger as he walked to the front of the doomed Death Eater who said that. “Are you comparing me to that disgusting wizard who has no right to be called a wizard with such outlandish beliefs?”

Realising his mistake, the Death Eater swallowed and cowered. “No, my Lord. That’s not what I meant. It was a slip of the tongue, sir!”

His eyes narrowing, he hissed, “Didn’t sound like a slip of the tongue, you miserable wretch. CRUCIO!”

The new victim screamed as Voldemort repeatedly cast the Crucio spell. Screaming till his throat was raw, Voldemort gave him one last look before walking back to his place at the front.

“Anyone else dare to question my abilities and compare me to Dumbeldore?” The remaining Death Eaters were as silent as the night surrounding them and Voldemort smirked. “Then the meeting is adjourned till next time.” He apparated and Sirius went with him to another memory.

Snow was gently falling on the ground. Sirius looked and saw that they were back in Hogsmeade and the place looked like a Winter Wonderland. There were younger students having snowballs fights and making snowmen. In fact, he saw himself with James throwing snowballs at each other. He was surprised to see how young he looked, how carefree both of them were.

He forced himself not to look and followed Tom, who was his other self again, was heading toward Hog’s Head.

Severus was already waiting for Tom at the entrance. The young Slytherin had a pleased look on his face. Sirius noticed that Tom had a hood over him, so no one could really tell who it was. “Trying to be careful . . . ” Sirius briefly remembered that during October of his seventh year, Albus had announced at Halloween that they were to watch out for Voldemort and the Death Eaters. James was making fun of the name, calling him “Voldie and the Death Eaters”. Sirius remembered that the rest of the Gryffindor table members who overheard the statement, were laughing. Lily had mentioned that James’ rendition of the name sounded like a Rock band, rather than some group of people attacking and causing havoc.

Sirius’ memories were cut off short when he saw that Tom had ushered Severus into the Hog’s Head rather quickly. Once settled in the area that they claimed as their own corner earlier in the year, Tom took his hood off.

“Hello, Severus. You seem well and happy.”

Severus smiled an actual smile. “Yes.”

“I’m glad we’ve been regularly keeping in contact via owls. Each time I get a letter, it brightens my day.”

“Same here.”

Tom pulled out a package and from somewhere in his robe, enlarged it and handed it to him. “I know that Christmas isn’t until another week and a half, but I figure that you can use this before then.”

Severus accepted the package, which was roughly the size of a medium telly. He opened it and gasped. Tom had gotten him the cauldron he’d wanted to have ever since his first year. The cauldron was a simple, silver cauldron, but whatever he brewed would always come out pure, never diluted, unless he just made a big mistake while making the batch. Silver cauldrons were very expensive and rare. The price was what had prevented Severus from getting one, and now he had one.

“Salazar’s Serpent . . . this is wonderful!” Severus handled the cauldron carefully and bought it to the front of his face, a mere millilitres away. “I can’t believe it. I asked my father for one of those during the winter holidays of my first year and he said such supplies are rubbish and waste of money. I never had imagined I’d be an owner of this . . . ”

Tom chuckled at Severus’ oblivious happiness. “You deserve it.”

“Oh my. Forgive me. I can’t believe I forgot my manners.” Severus put it down and looked at Tom, straight in the eyes. “Thank you so much for this wonderful gift. This is the best Christmas gift. Ever.”

“You’re wel -” Severus cut him off.

“And I value you deeply. You are like the father I never had. Thank you for being there for me and showing me you care.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a wrapped vial and handed it to Tom. “Here’s your Christmas gift,” he rambled on. “It’s my rendition of Dreamless Sleep potion. Only I think that it should be named Sweet Dreams potion, considering its effects.”

Tom was surprised. He knew Severus was a good potion maker, but most people his age wasn’t that good to make their own version of certain potions. He unwrapped it and stared at the clear liquid in the container. Severus animatedly continued on. “I’ve even enhanced the taste. It should taste sweeter.”

Tom held up the vial and carefully put it in the inner pocket of his robe. “Thank you, Severus. This truly is the nicest gift I’ve ever received. And considering how I do get plagued by nightmares on occasion, this is wonderful.”

Sirius could not believe it. Tom aka Voldemort had nightmares? When he was the bloody cause of many people’s nightmares, especially Harry?

Severus’ sallow skin flushed slightly at the compliment and went even pinker at what Tom said next.

“I think you should try to become a Potion master. I hear that it’s rather gruelling, but it’s worth it. You will be one of the few Potion master here in Britain, and will be sought after a lot.”

Severus didn’t say anything, but his eyes were calm and had a pleasing note to them.

“Like I said, Severus, this really is a nice gift, but I think the best gift was the part you telling me that I am like a father to you. For a bachelor like me, that really warms me up.” Tom smiled and before Severus could say anything, he stood up and walked Severus to the door.

“Go back now. It’s already dark. I’ll see you at the Malfoy’s Manor during the holidays.” Tom had pulled up his hood before leaving the corner and quickly gave Severus a hug before shooing him back toward the direction of the castle.

“My loyal followers, this is a grand day for us.” Sirius jumped about ten feet in the air when he heard Voldemort’s voice instead of Tom’s. “Hogwarts completed its last term a few days ago, and thus new members have joined our circle. We have a total of thirty new followers and three-fourths of them are Hogwarts’ previous students.”

Sirius looked around and saw Severus, Bellatrix, LeStrange himself, Regulus, and then he didn’t recognised the rest. He didn’t see Peter, so he guessed that he came to the Dark Lord’s side much later. That bloody bastard . . .

His attention was diverted as he watched Voldemort cast “Morsmorde” on Bellatrix. His cousin, who he knew was a tough bitch, couldn’t even stand the obvious pain from getting the Dark Mark. He heard the awful screams and nearly threw up as he saw the skin surrounding the Dark Mark. It was twitching and soon the entire arm looked as if there were worms crawling right beneath the skin. He saw that soon the area burst and blood gushed out. With an invisible hand, it looked as if someone was using her blood to trace the pattern of the Dark Mark on the arm.

Sirius knew that he was curious about how one got the Dark Mark, but now he wished he didn’t have to see the vivid detailed process of it.

Severus was the last one to receive the treatment. Amazingly, he was the only one who hadn’t screamed. Sure, his facial expression was in the form of pain, but scream, no. Then again, Sirius recalled Severus not screaming in fright during the Shrieking Shack incident, so this really shouldn’t have been a surprise.

He looked up and saw that Voldemort had a proud expression on his face. The beaming was directed toward Severus.

Sirius blinked as the pensieve world shifted again and this time he was in Tom’s private room at Malfoy’s manor. Tom was speaking seriously to Severus.

“Well tomorrow is the big initiation day and I want you to join. You will be a great asset to us. Your potions will help us and you can train for your Potion master degree, just come when I summon you. And I’ll fund your apprenticeship.”

Severus looked hesitant. “The whole point of this is to make the other wizards and witches understand that Muggles are useless people that should be destroyed?”

“Yes. Purebloods, which means you and I, and other followers, are the true rulers of the wizarding world. We don’t want to be overrun by Muggles-coddler, Mudbloods, and so on.”

Severus didn’t say anything for a long moment. He sipped his tea and was frowning as he contemplated on what had just been given to him.

“I . . . I’ll follow you, Tom. I trust you.”

Looking around at his new surroundings, Sirius saw that he was in a lab of some sort. He saw cauldrons on the table with potion ingredients next to it. There were other supplies, such as the cutter. There were shelves and Sirius saw vials and bottles of many potions, labelled neatly. Surprisingly, he didn’t see any of the cauldrons in use. No potions were being brewed.

Tom walked in and saw that Severus wasn’t doing anything, but rather was sitting there, doing nothing but staring into space.

“Something wrong, Severus? I know you are enjoying the apprenticeship and Master Connelly tells me that you are moving along well beyond most apprentices’ level.”

There wasn’t a reply from the other man.

“Severus, get your act together. I need those potions I’ve requested of you, and then after that we have a mission to go on.”

Hoarsely, Severus asked, “Why am I expected to do this?”

“This is your destiny and you chose to follow this road,” Tom said not so kindly.

“But why are we also using these on our own people? Some of the ones who joined us?”

“Because sacrifices are necessary within our group and the wizards and witches need discipline. They need to be shown who’s in charge.”

Severus didn’t say thing, but he looked thoughtful. Sirius wondered if Severus had began to suspect Voldemort’s true nature.

“Tom . . .”

“Don’t call me that anymore. Refer to me as ‘my Lord’ or ‘Lord Voldemort,” snapped Tom.

“Even when it’s just the two of us?” His eyes held a pleading note to them. Tom might not have seen it, but Sirius saw confusion in his eyes.

Coldy, he asked, “Are you questioning my orders?” He pulled out his wand. “Crucio.”

Severus screamed at the unexpected attack and collapsed off the chair onto the floor, twitching madly. After a minute of the curse, Tom stopped it. “Now. You have given your life to me, and you have said you will follow me wherever I go, so start on the potions, Snape. And after that, I’ve got a new assignment for you. You are to become a spy for me and spy on Dumbledore.” Severus’ name was sneered out and he majestically turned around, robes flowing behind him, walking toward the exit. Before he walked out, he said one last thing.

“We are Slytherins, and I am the heir of Slytherin. We are known for our cunningness and ambition. Only a lovesick fool of a Hufflepuff or Gryffindor would put their feelings before their ambitions. Slytherins don’t. Never forget that.”

Sirius briefly wondered if that’s where Severus had gotten the dramatic exit from, before the memory ended.

“You are back to join us, I see.”

Sirius recoiled back at seeing the ugly figure he was used to seeing in more recent times. He still can’t believe that the monster in front of him right now was such a handsome brute back then. He swallowed back the nausea as he forced himself to look. The red eyes really freaked him out. “How did I get so used to the green eyes so quickly? The transition of Tom to Voldemort was too huge and different. I bet his old followers were shocked to see the great, charismatic man reduced to skins and bones.”

Severus bowed. “Yes, master, I live to only serve you.”

“If you lived to serve me, Snape, then why didn’t you come when I summoned you the night I came back fully?”

“I am a professor at Hogwarts, Sir, my strange disappearance would raise the suspicions of many people, since it coincided with the same time that Potter was portkeyed. I have an image to protect. A professor, in the middle of chaos, is known to stay around and help, Sir. He looked up. “I did show up this time, haven’t I? Please allow me to resume my old job back. I will be of an asset for you.”

“Hm. Well, you are going to be useful. You are at the place where Dumbledore resides and that will give you the perfect opportunity to spy on him and his upcoming moves.”

Severus nodded and kissed Voldemort’s hems. “Thank you, Master. Thank you for allowing me to prove myself to you and to serve you.”

He smirked. “Yes, Snape. But still I am going to punish you. Crucio!” He laughed maniacally while Severus screamed. “Yes, like I told you many years before, discipline is needed, even amongst my most loyal followers.” Voldemort looked down at his side and looked at a cowering Peter. “Isn’t that right, Wormtail?”

Sirius gagged as he saw Peter kissing the hems of the robe and praised his lord. “Disgusting bastard.”

Severus stopped screaming when Voldemort stopped the Cruciatus Curse. “Get up, now. And go brew the torture potions for me at your labs in Hogwarts now.”

“Dammit!” Voldemort threw the bottle of firewhiskey into his fireplace. Watching the glass break and the alcohol making the flames dance around excitedly, he rubbed his forehead and sighed. “How did I let something so obvious slip past me?”

He motioned Wormtail over, who was as usual shivering and wincing at his master’s actions. “Yes, my Lord?” His voice had a shrill edge to it.

“Get out of my sight. Go socialise with Lucius or something.”

“But, my Lord -”

“NOW!” Wormtail wasted no time and got out of the room on his short, stubby legs.

Nagini slithered over.

“Why was I so stupid?” he asked Nagini, in Parseltongue. Sirius was surprised that he understood what Voldemort was saying. Then again this was a memory from the pensieve, so Sirius figured it was some kind of an enhanced side effect. However he didn’t understand what the snake was saying at all.

Sirius listened to the snake hiss in a language far beyond him and realised that he could follow along the conversation.

“How did I find out?” Voldemort petted his beloved serpent. “Tonight’s mission, which you weren’t there for, proved it. I had Harry Potter right in my grasp again, and I knew that in my bones, this was the chance for me to kill him. However, HE, interfered and ruined everything.

“No, I don’t blame the boy. I was the one who pushed him away. I treated him like I treated all my other followers. I guess that showed that I was no different from his father or Dumbledore. And I guess after he realised that I was just the same as everyone else he learned to respect, he decided that the bumbling headmaster was more trustworthy than me.

“Sad. Doesn’t he know that the renowned headmaster is no different than any true evil person out there? That man manipulates people just as much as a true Slytherin does. He claims he’s doing the best of his judgement, but he’s wrong. His judgement is not as good as mine.

“Strange, how that boy is connected with all our lives. It’s as if he makes a greater impact than Dumbledore and I put together. He really is special, but once someone betrays him, he holds grudges strongly. The only person he doesn’t seem to view this way is that damn Black. It’s so bloody obvious that he had some sort of an infatuation with that boy back then. It’s been dampened down, but those two have a history that surpassed even the one I share with Severus.

“But knowing him, he probably wants to confront that idiotic Black about his feelings, but he never will do that. His grudge is stronger than his love.”

Sirius’ mouth dropped in astonishment. “No bloody way . . . ”

“He mastered Occlumency. He secretly did that, somehow. That would explain why I could never get the information I wanted from him. And that’s why he was able to hide his true loyalties so long.”

He summoned another bottle of firewhiskey and chugged down on it. “Ambitions . . . I love mine. But it made me lose someone precious, someone who was like a son to me. I really am an idiot.” His eyes darkened, and he gripped the bottleneck of his drink and stared into the fireplace. “And those who make such a fool of me will die.”

Sirius felt someone grabbing his arm, and pulling him out. He was back in his room, on the floor, and he was surprised to see Severus standing there.

“How . . . what . . . ?”

Severus glared at him. “You are truly an moron. Only a typical Gryffindor like you would take a Dark Lord’s pensieve and go into it to see proof that your worst enemy is truly evil.” He crossed his arms. “And before you ask, I saw you sneak that into you robes. I wasn’t entirely sure what it was, but I guessed, and was apparently correct. And subtleness was never your forte, Black. You let all your emotions show outwardly and seeing that triumphant look on your face made me put two and two together that you wanted to sack me somehow.”

“So, do I want to know what memories you saw?” He sneered. “Did you get any proof of my allegiance?”

Sirius numbly nodded, still in shock to know what he found out. Struggling to speak, in a raspy voice he asked, “You liked me?”

Severus went pale. “What did you say?”

“I asked if you liked me back then.”

Eyes burning with fury, he turned around and Sirius saw the dramatic exit. “Running away? So unlike you, Severus.”

Severus stopped and didn’t turn around. His arms were by his sides and his fists were clenched. “Obviously pensieve don’t lie, so I’ll tell you this. Whatever I felt then has now been deteriorated.”

“Bullshite.” Sirius stood up and used the wall for support. “Not according to Voldemort and that memory was probably one of the most recent ones.”

“Believe whatever the hell you want, Black.” He started walking again. “You had better take that damn pensieve to Albus or the Ministry. And Black, don’t call me Severus. You have no right to do so.”

Sirius called out desperately, slowly understanding the memories and putting them together bits by bit. “You went to Voldemort because of me, right?” He walked closer to Severus, whom had stopped walking again. “If I hadn’t been such a prat back then, and just left you alone, you probably wouldn’t have met Voldemort the night after the Shrieking Shack incident.” He swallowed hard. “But I did and that started everything . . . ”

Sirius stopped an arm length behind Severus. “I’m sorry . . . ”

Severus turned around quickly in a furious manner. He was so angry that his breathing was hard and fast, causing his chest to move rapidly. “Don’t you dare apologise! I don’t want your pity, dammit!”

“But I truly am!”

He hissed out, “You think saying ‘sorry’ will solve every single thing in this world? If you think that, Black, you are seriously demented.”

Sirius opened his mouth to say something and than noticed that Severus had a point. When he was younger and even now at occasions, he’d automatically ask for forgiveness and think all was well.

“Besides, Black, not everything revolves around you. Even if you hadn’t played that damn prank, I might have still be lured to Voldemort in one way or another, so do me a favour, and keep your apologies to yourself!” He turned around and this time left the room for good.

Sirius asked Remus to return the pensieve for him at the Ministry. Remus had a questioning look, but he forced himself not to ask anything and figured that Sirius would tell him what happened later.

With the arrest of the last Death Eater, they were free to celebrate. And celebrate the wizarding world did for the next week. Sirius went to so many festivities that he lost count. However he did notice that one person never showed up to any, and that was Severus.

Thoughts of Severus would not leave his mind. He told himself that he was only thinking of him out of pity. But then he had wet dreams about the infuriating man. Sirius tried to convince himself that this was all lust. He tried thinking of Severus in a French Maid outfit with a polka-dotted apron, but that just made his feelings more intense. When he pictured that outfit on Severus, he actually thought that he looked sexy.

So after another week of telling himself that he’s not falling for Severus, and those two always avoiding each other, Sirius came to a conclusion.

He recalled Voldemort’s comment about how members of Gryffindor and other houses but Slytherin, put their feelings before their ambitions. He slowly came to a conclusion that when he was younger, he did act upon his feelings, but they were the wrong feelings. He acted petty toward Severus because his parents favoured him instead of their own sons. And since he hated everything about his family, he started to treat Severus the way he did, all because he was sorted into Slytherin. And then him teasing Severus became so much part of his daily routine that he didn’t bother to note that he actually did like the boy. He respected the boy whom he had known since childhood, but hated everything Severus represented when they got into Hogwarts.

Sirius determinedly walked towards Severus’ dungeon rooms.

“I did follow the wrong feelings then, and now, just to prove ole’ Voldie’s point, I will follow my feelings once again. But this time, I’ll follow the right ones,” he muttered to himself.

He knocked on Severus doors and waited.

Severus opened the door with an annoyed look on his face. “Black, what do you want. And it better be good.”

Sirius quickly manoeuvred around Severus and got into his private rooms. He spelled the door shut and locked it. Before Severus could say anything, Sirius went up to him, grabbed him and kissed him.

The tense, thin lips that were pressed against his didn’t move. However the object of his affection wasn’t making any move to push him off. Sirius started caressing Severus’ back and gently pushed the shorter man against the wall. He felt Severus’ hand against his hips. That gave Sirius the initiative to go further and he did so by licking Severus’ lips, which opened in shock, and Sirius took the advantage and started exploring the sweet yet snarky mouth. He felt Severus kissing him back hesitantly. Sirius moaned against Severus’ mouth, and that awoke Severus from his shocked stupor.

Severus shoved Sirius away, whom at that moment was dazed. Severus looked murderous. “Get out, Black. You’ve had your fun, now get the hell out of my rooms.”

Sirius became clear-headed and smiled softly. “I will. You wouldn’t be the man I know if you suddenly accepted me.” He walked to the door, unspelled it and opened it. He turned before leaving. “I know what I want, Severus, and I have Voldemort to thank for that.”

He walked off. On the outside he was calm, but inside he was giddy. “He kissed me back!” He thought. “And I sound like an hormonal teenager. But fuck that. I have a man to conquer with the first stages of love . . . ” Sirius let out a smile. “I am ready for this challenge. I am a Gryffindor, after all.”

Amidst the crowded airport, two days before Christmas, stood two exasperated wizards. Their two companions had passed exasperation and were simply pissed off to all hell. The common people, on the other hand, had no clue that they were any different from themselves. To anyone passing by, these four men were just trying to get on their plane for a vacation. Make that four VERY impatient men.

“Harry, Moony, tell me again WHY we couldn’t just floo to our hotel?” Sirius asked dejectedly.

Harry, in frustration, pushed his dishevelled hair out of his face. “Sirius, you know very well that in most Muggle hotels the fireplaces are not connected to the floo system.”

“Then why can’t we just apparate?!”

Severus glared at Sirius. “As much as I agree with you that this ‘airplane’ business is unnecessary, you forget that we are going to Jamaica and that is not part of the British Isles. Other nations’ Ministries have put up an anti-apparation spell up so that people that aren’t from their countries cannot apparate into theirs. I know for a fact it’s for security measures, but there are times when it’s a nuisance.”

Sirius returned Severus a dirty look of his own. “Shut up, you greasy git. I didn’t ask for your opinion here!”

Remus sighed very loudly. “Let’s go now. We have to go to the baggage department and have them check our bags.”

The other two wizards grumbled and grabbed their bags. Harry and Remus looked at each other and just rolled their eyes. They walked through the crowded airport with their luggage and soon reach their destination. The clerks at the counter told them to write their names on the tag and so they did. After that, the clerks put the tags on the bag and then put them through the machines to scan them. Satisfied that they didn’t find any illegal materials, they told them that everything was all right. Having all the big ones out of the way, now each only had a regular-sized backpacks with them.

“Well now that we got our luggage checked in, we just have to wait two hours for our flight. Everyone got their tickets right?” Remus asked with forced cheerfulness.

“Two bloody hours?! Why does it take that long? Are Muggles always this slow?” Sirius exclaimed.

“Muggles have ALWAYS been slow, Black. Where have you been all this time?” Severus sullenly interjected.

“Again, have I asked you, slimy, good for nothing, prick?”

“You two, stuff it.” The Boy-Who-Lived gave them a glare that would match Lord Voldemort’s. He grabbed the Potions Master’s hand and dragged him over to the nearest restaurant to relax, or at least attempted to. Remus did the same to Sirius. They soon reached McDonald’s.

“So what do you want to order?” Remus asked his mate. “Harry and I can vouch that the Big Mac is the best to get here.”

“Then get me that,” Sirius grumbled.

“Come on. Be happy. We are going on a vacation, Padfoot.”

“Not the way I want too.”

Remus rolled his eyes again and just went to the counter and ordered his and Sirius’ foods. Harry turned to his lover. “So a Big Mac?”

” . . . ” Severus just glared.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Harry said, not the least perturbed. Harry went up to the counter and ordered like Remus did. Soon, Remus and Harry came to the table where the two grouchy wizards were. The atmosphere between the four of them was so tense that the other customers felt that something was not right. After they finished their food, Harry got up and dumped their garbage out. He came back and stretched his leg. He turned to them and looked at Severus with a hopeful expression.

“Care to walk around with me? I feel too cooped up and after we get on the airplane we’ll be stuck in there for ten hours at least.”

Sirius gave Harry a stricken look. “T-t-ten hours?” He looked pleadingly at Moony. “Please tell me I did not hear that.”

“Sorry, Paddy. You did. The flight is ten hours long.” Remus inwardly groaned, expecting another rant coming up.

“What am I supposed to do for ten hours on the fairplane?”

“Airplane,” Severus said dryly. “I know you weren’t raised by Muggles, but at least get the names right so you don’t sound like a dunderhead.”

Sirius turned and glowered at the one person he still truly couldn’t tolerate. “Bloody hell! Why won’t you just bugger off and just don’t do it with my godson!”

There was a dangerous glint in Severus’ eyes as his hand went for his wand that was in the inner pocket of his leather jacket. Harry recognised the look and grabbed his lover before Severus could hex Sirius. Remus, knowing that those two needed some time away from each other, decided to drag Sirius and go to some other part of the airport.

“I’ll meet you at our waiting area in about a hour. Got that, Harry?” Remus hastily grabbed Sirius up to his feet and started to lead him away.

“Yeah, I got you, Remus,” Harry turned to the snarky Potion Master and glared at him. “We are going to have a little talk, Sev.”

“About what? The fact that your godfather got absolutely no brain at all?” Severus sulkily walked past Harry. The younger man sighed and ran to catch up with the taller man. Harry smirked.

“You know, you’re cute when you sulk.” Harry chuckled lightly as he saw the back stiffened up. Severus turned slowly to face Harry. “Insolent brat.”

“I know, but you still love me.” Harry sighed. “Sevvy, I’m sorry for choosing this way to travel, but . . . I thought we’d all enjoy it. Remus and I thought it ‘d be romantic for us to snuggle through the long plane ride. To appreciate each other’s company or in yours and Sirius’ case, not appreciate each other companies, through the Muggle ways.”

Severus looked intently at his young lover through his hair. Through the curtain of hair, Harry couldn’t see the mesmerising, coal-black eyes. However, if he could have, he would have seen many emotions conflicting each other. Love, annoyance, frustration, and tenderness were a few of the emotions that were flying through the Potions Master’s eyes. Severus straightened up and gave Harry a cold look. “Gryffindors, once one, always one. Are all of you that much of a hopeless romantic?”

Harry brightened up. Severus couldn’t help but think how predictable the young man tended to be. “You are acting sarcastic. That’s a good sign.” He reached and grabbed the Slytherin’s hand. “Let’s go for that walk now.”

Severus growled slightly, and grabbed the other man by the waist. He brought the lithe body closer to his and kissed him fervently. A few moments later, he let go. “Now we can go for a walk. And do not call me ‘Sevvy’.” Harry nodded and followed with a dreamy look.

Remus continued to drag the ex-convicted murderer through the crowds. Upon reaching the men’s toilets, he shoved Sirius into an empty stall, lock the door, both magically and manually, and then cast a silencing charm around them. He then turn around and glared at him. Sirius couldn’t help but think that the glare looked a whole lot like Snape’s.

Tentatively, he reached over and touches Mooy’s cheek. “Did anyone tell you that you are starting rival the greasy git when it comes to giving angry looks?”

“I do not!” Remus indignantly cried out. “Speaking of that ‘greasy git’, who not only is my colleague, but also is your godson’s lover, you need to calm down in front of him! Especially when we are in a crowded place that is full of Muggles.” He wanted to say that Sirius acted in a juvenile manner, but then closed his mouth in time. He decided that if he said that, then he’d be calling himself a hypocrite, for that’s one of the traits that he has come to love the other man.

Sirius slouched a bit and pouted. “I’m sorry, Remus. But . . .  he’s so infuriating! But not only that, this airpane travelling method is weird!

“Airplane, not ‘airpane’,” Remus corrected Sirius. “And I’m sure Harry is explaining the same thing to Severus right now, but really, he and I chose this method because we thought it’d be a romantic way to travel. Apparently we were both wrong and it’s a mistake on both of us.”

Sirius solemnly stared at his lover. “You really think it’s romantic? Honestly, Moony, I see nothing romantic about being on that airflane for ten hours.”

Remus groaned and rubbed his face in his hands. “I give up. You will never call it by the right name. Truly though, think about it. Talking and looking out the window, provided we get the window seats, holding hands, and just being next to each other for the longest time. Harry and I really didn’t mean to choose it as an inconvenience. ”

Sirius smirked. “There are toilets on there, right? Please tell me there is.”

“Yes, there are. Why?” Remus gave him a calculating look, as Sirius just smiled wider. “Paddy, I do not like that scheming look on your face.”

Sirius grabbed Remus by the arse and brought him closer to him. He leaned over and Remus felt the warmth of Sirius’ breath on his neck. “Me? Scheming? Never. Although I was thinking about how it would be more romantic if we shagged 10,000 metres up from the ground.”

Unintentionally, Remus let out a soft growl and quickly had Sirius pinned against the stall’s door. All his train of thoughts were gone as Remus began ravishing his mouth. He wasn’t about to complain as he returned the action.

An hour later, the two couples met up with each other at the waiting area. Sirius glared at Severus, and Severus didn’t even acknowledge the other man. Harry and Remus just gave each other knowing smiles and sat down. The two adversaries sat and just talked with their respective partners. When their flight was announced, they stood up. After confirming that each of them has their tickets, they got on the plane.

They had a little trouble finding their seats, but then a flight attendance lent them a hand. After getting settled in their seats, Sirius looked around.

“Remy, what is that big flat thing up there?” Sirius pointed toward the movie screen.

“It’s the movie screen, Sirius. It’s where you can watch the movie during the flight. However, you have to wear these earphones. That’s where the sounds come out. Does that make sense?” Remus turned to the man next to him. Instead of seeing a looking of understanding, he got a very cute looking Sirius, all perplexed. He smiled gently. “Don’t worry about it. You will see what I mean later. Hopefully the movie will be a good on . . . it says that Titanic is being played.”

On the other side of Remus, Severus gave a surprised look. “Isn’t that the ship that sank in the Atlantic?”

Remus nodded. “But do not ask why they made it into a movie. Muggles tend to think of some weird stuff.”

Everyone buckled their seatbelts as the plane started. Since Remus and Harry forgot to tell the other two about the ear pressure, Severus grimaced in pain and Sirius let out a loud profanity. Remus gave Sirius an apologetic look, and gave him some gum. “Here. Chew this and the pain will lessen a bit.” Sirius takes it and shoves it in his mouth and start chewing severely. Remus handed one to Severus, but he declined.

“This is nothing like the Cruciatus. I can live.” Harry gripped the Slytherin’s hand comfortingly.

Thankfully the entire trip went well. Well the loud noise from the toilet scared Sirius out of his wit, but he brushed it off, after asking them why it was necessary to make the flushing noise so loud. The others shook their heads and Remus tried to explain, but after realising that he couldn’t explain why, he just told Sirius to forget it.

They ate the dinner that was provided, and they all agreed that the food at Hogwarts was much better. When the movie came on, no one was interested in it. In fact Sirius and Remus decided to take this time now to get a quick shag in the bathroom, with all the precautions set up as well. Harry and Severus stared at each other. “Are you sure you want to be related to them, Harry?” Harry nodded very slowly, pretending to look uncertain. Then he burst out laughing. Severus just gave a smirk.

When the two completely, satiated wizards came back, Harry and his lover were both sleeping peacefully, with Harry’s head on Severus’ shoulder. Remus felt the sudden urge to coo, but didn’t. He told Sirius, and he got a weird look. He pretended to be offended and sat down in a huff. “Aw, Moony.” Sirius sat down and wrapped his arms around the slender man. “You know I didn’t mean that.” Remus smirked and brushed his lips gently across his. “I know. I’m sleepy now.”

Sirius yawned. “Same here. I guess a nap would be good.” Both of them fell asleep quickly.

The next time any of them woke up was when the announcement of nearing arrival was blaring across the plane. Severus looked disgruntled from being woken up rudely, in his opinions. Harry yawned and rubbed his eyes under his glasses. “We’re almost there.”

“I certainly hope so,” muttered Severus.

The landing hurt Sirius, as much as the takeoff did. Remus gave him another stick of gum and Sirius chewed it furiously. It was painful, but he agreed with Snape, that nothing was more painful than the Cruciatus. For once he thought of something reasonable. They got off the plane and gratefully stretched their legs. They waited till they got their luggages and then went to catch the Banana Bus, which was equivalent to the Knight Bus. Sirius and Severus both sighed. “Now this is the definite way of travelling.” Sirius snuggled into the seat.

They almost reached the resort, till Harry broke the silence. “So do you think it was a mistake travelling by the airplane?”

“Naw. It wasn’t all that bad. Just the part that it takes forever to get here.” Sirius brought Remus close to him. “However, you guys didn’t do it maliciously, so I don’t mind much.”

“I agree with Black, once again.” Severus planted a kiss on Harry’s out of control hair. “However, you should learn from your mistakes, and this is one of them.”

The Banana Bus continued to ride and at the same time the sun was setting, and everything was peaceful amongst the four again.

We do not write because we want to; we write because we have to. — W. Somerset Maugham

February 14, 2005

I hate my life. And I hate the colour pink — and maroon — representing this repulsive holiday. Red and white I can tolerate, but not those other colours. End of story.

February 25, 2005

Okay. I got bitched out by my counsellor.

If you can call Luna giving me a long lecture on Nargles bitching. I shudder to think of receiving another three hour talk on the existence of those things, so I may as well try this so-called therapy of writing down my feelings in a book nobody else reads but me.

Bloody hell. This writing stuff down thing is more difficult than I’ve guessed. I mean . . . fuck. How do I write down the fact that I hate being the only survivor from my family? How do I write down my true feelings on how I feel about losing my two best friends in that awful war? Sometimes I wonder why I’m the one who survived. It’s not like it’s a great feeling to have.

I don’t understand why Luna’s making me do this. I mean I already express my emotions by singing in bars and playing the piano. How much more does she want to me do? Not to mention, I do talk to her twice a week and put up with her ramblings which are random and not-very-helpful to me. Also, it’s really painful leaving her office which is at Hogwarts. She’s a counsellor for the school, and she also accepts non-Hogwarts patients. So to go there on a regular basis and see students in uniforms . . . it brings back too many painful memories of my own Hogwarts days where I’ve had many adventures with Harry and Hermione.

Maybe I’ll introduce a hag to Seamus next time as payback. He keeps wanting me to set him up with girls, and since he’s introduced me to Luna . . .

Not that she’s bad or anything, but she does drive me nuts.

Anyway, this sucks. And my hand hurts. I haven’t written this much in ages.

March 1, 2005

Happy fucking birthday to me. I’m a quarter-of-a-century old. My eyes are red, and they look as if I poked them thousands times. I’d drunk half a bottle of firewhiskey, and I’m still not drunk.

Okay, ‘m slightly pished — if this awful writin of mine is of any indication. Plus things are a bit fuzy, but I don’t know whether that’s because of the alcohol or because I’ve been crying here and there. I can’tt remember how many shots I’ve had. I think it’s five . . . or maybe twenny?

I haven’t work today. My boss insisted, but I wish I had. The distraction would have been welcomed, but no! My boss just had to threatened to fire me if I didn’t take the day off. I wish I never listened to him! It’s not fun celebrating a day like today by myself in my messy flat and with my piano plus music sheets all over the place. Also, the chess pieces are annoyyed with me. The white king’s threatened to get umbrellas for his troops if I don’t stop crying. What a meanie.

Really, this writing down my feeling thing is crud. It’s not helping. Alcohol works a lot better, if you ask me. If Hermione were alive, she’d probably slap me for drinking so much. As well as Harry. And Ginny. And my mum. Especially Mum. She never liked alcohol much. Dad driven her nuts by sneaking in some alcohol . . . but that was not going to happen again. Ever.

Whatever. Maybe I’ll just start singing at the top of my lungs and annoy my neighboors.

Again, happy birthday to me. Not.

Three hours later . . .

Crap. There’s a saliva stain here. I must have fallen asleep.

March 15, 2005

Luna’s evil. She still tells me to write in this thing even after I’ve told her that it’s not helping. She’s told me to keep doing it. She’s even told me to give this book a name.

Why do I have to name a book? It’s just a ruddy inanimate object. I don’t need to give it human characteristics, right? But Luna’s quite adamant that I do. She’s even told me to think of a name in front of her. I’ve finally uttered a name, and I guess this book is now called “Kemp”.

So hullo, Kemp. It’s a pleasure to meet you.

Man. Luna’s something else. She’s the one who needs a counsellor, I think.

March 20, 2005

Kemp, remind me to throw dungbombs into Seamus’ mouth one day.

He’s being such an almighty prick now that he’s got him a pretty girl by his side. I think he’s worse than Draco Malfoy times ten.

Last thing I want to hear is of him and that girl doing some BDSM activity in a hotel room. Or about her boob size. Or about him and her doing anything.

Just no. I don’t need these images in my head. Though they are a form of distraction, I suppose.

April 1, 2005

I walked through Diagon Alley today, and I passed by the twins’ old place. Then when I was going through some of my stuff, I found one of their Extendable Ears. I tried it out against my flat’s wall. It was still in a good working condition, surprisingly. I could hear everything my neighbours talked about. Doing this brought back memories of us trying it out in Grimmauld Place. Fred and George really were brilliant with their ideas. The creations they came up with were ingenious. I honestly hated being their test subjects back then, but now I really wouldn’t mind one of them giving me some sweets that would have some nasty side-effects.

At work, someone requested me to play a Weird Sisters’ song. It just had to be one of Ginny’s favourites. I wanted to politely decline that person, but in the end I played it. Playing the song on the piano was a challenge. I had to force my fingers to hit the keys, and when I had to sing, my voice cracked a bit at the beginning, but I didn’t stop. I just sang that ruddy song, and towards the end, I had to fight back tears. When I finished, I took a break. I hid myself in one of the back rooms, and I spelled the door locked and cast a silencing charm. I needed that moment of privacy as I broke down.

I . . . I know crying is something we have to do once in a while as a human, but I hate it. I hate it when I can’t control my emotions.

You would think seven years would be a long time to get over your losses.

Whoever said time heals all wounds are liars. Time doesn’t heal wounds, dammit. It just doesn’t.

April 8, 2005

Do you know how weird it is to call you Kemp? Well, whatever her loonyness wishes of me to do, I better do it.

Speaking of weird, I had a mind-boggling dream.

In this strange dream, I saw myself sporting a vulture-sized nose, and my arms had transformed into huge bat wings.

What’s this supposed to mean, I have no idea. I know dreams are part of our subconscious, but why must we dream things that make no sense? At least this dream has made no sense to me.

I’ve told Luna about the dream. She thinks that I’ll end up meeting a deformed-looking Nargle.

Seamus, on the other hand, thinks I’ll turn into something called Pinokio and some Batman thing.

So if I’m not wallowing in my angst, am I surrounded by people who cannot interpret dreams in a serious manner?

I guess it’s a good thing I’m not dreaming about that maroon-coloured dress robes.

April 20, 2005

I’m going to fucking kill Seamus.

In his drunken form, he slipped me this weird concoction into my drink at the bar tonight. At first nothing happened. It just tasted a bit bitter. But then when someone asked me something about ten minutes later, I opened my mouth and discovered a terrible thing.

Thanks to that bloody bastard, I’ve lost my voice!

Fucking hell! If Seamus doesn’t find the antidote for this, I’m going to do more than just kill him! I’ll hang him by his balls, get a woodpecker to peck his family jewels, and make sure he cannot get it up for the rest of his miserable life!

April 22, 2005

I still don’t have my voice. My career has come to an end at the moment. My boss understands and has given me some time off, but that doesn’t make me feel any better.

Seamus still hasn’t found the antidote.

Kemp, if I go to Azkaban for murder, you know why.

April 30, 2005

St Mungo’s got the worse healers on the Isle. They don’t know anything about regaining lost voices. They’re so fucking hopeless.

They made me take these disgusting potions. One of them made me breathe out fire like some Hungarian Horntail. Another potion made me lose sight for about ten minutes. The last one they made me take gave me hives.

Why is my life such a pain?

And as much as I’ve got used to writing in here, it’s not fun carrying a notebook and a pen everywhere I go to communicate with people.

Neville offered me some herbal remedies — something with an unpronounceable name. I had hoped it would work, but they didn’t. Instead, it just gave me pimples and turned my hair maroon. I stared at my reflection for a good thirty minutes. My mouth dropped open, and I looked absolutely horrified. I kept my temper, though. No need to lash out to him when he was just trying to help. Thankfully, those ghastly effects disappeared in a couple of hours.

Seamus, after claiming he couldn’t find the antidote, had disappeared to France with his girlfriend for a while. I guess for his sake that was a good thing. He would be dead otherwise.

The next time he shows his face around here, I’ll do the following:

1. Punch him until he’s unrecognisable.
2. Kick him in the balls.
3. Give him a potion that renders him impotent for the rest of his life.
4. Steal his expensive, top of the line broom and break it. Preferably over his noggin.
5. Send out word that his cock is the size of a peanut.

Well, I won’t be that violent, but these are ideas, right? I feel a bit better writing that short list, at least.

May 2, 2005

Still no voice.

I almost didn’t want to write today, but I figured I should. Today happened to be the seventh anniversary of the battle that ended that war. There was going to be a remembrance ceremony of some sort — they’ve had one every year — but I didn’t see any point in attending it. It was not something I really wanted to participate.

I honestly don’t know what to write or what to say, though. All I can say is that I miss my family and I miss Harry and Hermione. I hate being a survivor, but I know they wouldn’t want me to become some drunk and die in a ditch somewhere, but at times it’s tempting. Like today.

Luna has suggested I get a pet. I still have Pig, but she’s suggested I get a crup or something. After having Scabbers, though, I’m a bit wary on keeping a pet . . .

I hate this. I hate this feeling of loneliness. It’s such a suffocating feeling that all I want to do is scream. But I can’t. All I can do right now is just write and just think by myself.

May 6, 2005

Luna referred me to a Potions master. She didn’t tell me who it was, but she just gave me an address to the person’s residence.

I hope whoever this Potions master is can help me regain my voice. Hopefully tomorrow will give me a much better chance than what I’ve been given lately. I’ll keep my fingers crossed, Kemp.

May 7, 2005

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!

I’m never listening to Luna ever again!

May 8, 2005

Okay, now that I’m a bit calmer, let me see if I can write something more than just “fuck”.

I went to the Potions master’s house — well it was more like a cottage — and guess who greeted me at the door?

Severus Snape.

Yes, the Severus Snape. He looked rather surprised and put off at seeing me, and I probably didn’t look any better since I had the most disgusted expression on my face when I saw him.

Ugh, just ugh! Why him?! Luna’s seriously demented! How can she trust him to get my voice back?

Unfortunately, I didn’t get to go past his front door. After the initial shock, he just slammed the door in my face, and I ended up Apparating back to my own flat. All day long, I stomped around my place and pounded on my piano. I probably aggravated my neighbours, but screw them! Why did she refer me to that overgrown bat?!

Earlier today, I stormed into Luna’s office, and I wrote my anger out to her. My pen ended up breaking since I used so much force, but I think she understood my message to her. She didn’t get upset, but she only looked at me with that serene look of hers and said, “Everything will work out, Ron. Just work with Severus. He’ll find a cure for your vocal problems.”

She thinks everything will work out. Maybe in her world, but it’s not going to work out in real life. And she’s called him Severus. Since when has she turned all buddy-buddy with Snape? And why are they on a first-name basis? Then again, I can’t fathom anybody calling that greasy git “Severus”, even if that’s his given name.

Anyway, regardless of what she says, I’m not going back to that git’s place. I’ll find some other way to get my voice back.

May 13, 2005

!@#$!@#$!@#$!@#$

Nobody else can help me. I’ve tried other specialists in the wizarding world and even asked some Muggle doctors. They can’t do anything.

I give up.

Looks like I’ll have to go see that git after all. Why me?! Kemp, what have I done wrong in my life to deserve this?

May 14, 2005

I went back to Snape’s cottage, and like before, he greeted me at the door with his scowling face. We stared at each other for a few minutes, and I studied his face. His nose, which had always been crooked, looked more crooked than before. Maybe in the war, someone gave him a good punch? Served the git right. Aside from that ghastly nose, I noticed a few more wrinkles on his thin face than years ago. Or at least I didn’t remember them. I’d never really had the chance nor the desire to look at him closely in the past.

His black hair was still greasy as ever. What did he do? Cleaned his hair with oil instead of water? I didn’t know his exact hair washing procedure, but it really was grimy looking . . . but I’d also noticed a few strands of grey sprinkling the shiny blackness here and there.

It’s strange seeing that considering he really isn’t that old. He’s only about twenty or so years older than me, making him to be forty-five at least. I guess the ageing process hasn’t been that kind to him.

Anyway, his lips were turned up into his customary sneer, and I had to fight back my own look of revulsion towards him. I kept my face neutral as possible, and I gave him a challenging look. Our standoff went on for a few more seconds, and that was when I saw that his eyes were different. They looked softer. Well, no. Not softer, but they appeared more tired and weary.

It’s an interesting contrast when I stop to think about it.

Well, back to our staring contest. I wasn’t sure who broke the contact first, but he stepped aside and let me in. Before I could take my first step, he said, “Try not to bring in mud, Weasley, and do keep your hands to yourself once inside!”

I rolled my eyes, made sure there was no mud on my shoes, and kept my hands to my sides. He gestured towards a sofa. A black leather sofa that looked really uninviting and cold. When my arse touched the sofa, I could feel the iciness of the furniture spreading all over my body, and I had to suppress my shiver of discomfort.

As I cursed inside my head, I looked at the table in front of me and saw a long piece of parchment and some quill and ink arranged neatly there.

I raised my eyebrow at Snape, and he said in biting tones, “I’m going to ask you a few questions about your current condition, and you will write down the question and the answer for me. Understand?”

A few questions? Hah! Try thousands of questions! By the time I’d finished writing down details after details of how I lost my voice and whatnot, it looked like I wrote a sodding symphony or two for Beethoven or Wagner. I mean I did want my voice back, but what did it matter what brand of beer I had drank that day? I wanted to throw the quill in his face, but I didn’t since he was probably the only person who could help me gain my voice at this point.

I handed over the parchment when he finally asked the last question, and my fingers and my wrist were throbbing. He then dismissed me in a bored drawl, telling me to come back tomorrow for more questioning. I couldn’t believe it. What he asked me today wasn’t enough?!

Standing up, I forced myself to not throw anything onto the table. With a stiff nod towards Snape, who wasn’t even looking at me now, I started to head for the door when he stopped me by saying, “Weasley? Do be on time tomorrow. And if you can try to get a sample of Mr Finnigan’s concoction that would make you less useless.”

Anger bubbled inside of me as I stalked off to the door. I reached it and was about to slam it when I heard him call, “Don’t slam my door like an uncivilised gorilla, Weasley.”

How the hell did he know that? Did he gain some power that Trelawney seemed to have missed out on?

Now . . . just how am I supposed to get a hold of that Seamus? He doesn’t answer to owl correspondence, he’s somewhere in France, and he knows I’m pissed off at him. He’ll be in hiding — that bugger. Perhaps Luna will have an idea . . .

May 15, 2005

Luna said she’d take care of Seamus. Then she practically shoved me out the door of her office and told me, “Don’t keep Severus waiting, Ron! He’ll never admit it, but he likes the company I send him.”

I gaped at her closed door, and then I went my way to Snape’s cottage. His grumpiness made me feel just as angry as I walked back and sat on that freezing sofa. He first asked, “Did you bring the concoction?”

I shook my head and wrote on a new piece of parchment, Luna will take care of it.

He snorted and muttered, “You can’t do it yourself?”

That made me furious as I scribbled on the parchment, It was her idea! And besides, I can find Seamus if I want to!

“Spare me your exaggerations,” Snape said unkindly.

Spare me your sermon and just hurry up and ask me the questions you need to ask me!

“Someone seems to be in a hurry. You must have an important date to keep.”

I blushed at that, even though I had no reasons to. I quickly wrote down, Will you just ask me the sodding questions already?

An unreadable expression came on his face, and he said, “Please refrain from using obscenities in my cottage.”

I couldn’t believe he was lecturing me about using obscenities. Actually since when did “sodding” become an obscenity? I stifled back a sigh and wrote, Fine. Now, what are the questions?

The next hour or so passed slowly as he asked me a million questions. It was boring, but at the same time, it wasn’t horrible either. I was just glad to finally stop writing when he asked the last one. I handed over the parchment to Snape, and he read it closely. A look of distaste came on his face, and he grumbled, “Your penmanship hasn’t changed since you were a student, but at least this one’s a tiny bit easier to read compared to yesterday’s writing.”

As I fumed to myself, thinking he was such an arse who was incapable of being nice even a bit, I sat and waited for him to tell me what to do next. A few minutes passed before he looked up at me. “Still here?” he asked in a curt voice. “We’re done for today. Come back in two days . . . with your medical files from St Mungo’s.”

He waved a dismissive hand at me, and I walked out. Before I reached the door, I turned around and watched him scribble a note here and there on what I had written. His head was bowed, and his greasy hair framed his face, which I couldn’t see, but I could see that his body was stiff except for his moving hand. It moved quite elegantly.

Ever so slightly, he looked up, and before he could yell at me, I left the cottage, cursing at myself for staring at Snape like that and for getting caught. Why had I stared at him? Why didn’t I just quickly leave? Just what was the matter with me?

May 16, 2005

Kemp, I’m so fucking bored. Without my job, I have all the free time in the world. But I’m sick of playing the piano, sick of trying to write new songs, sick of meeting friends whom I have to write to communicate with, and am just sick of lounging around with alcohol!

I want my voice back so my life can return to normal!

I’ll repeat myself since I have nothing better to do. I’m so fucking B-O-R-D. No, wait. That doesn’t look right. It’s B-O-R-E-D. Damn alcohol!

May 17, 2005

I must be crazy. Let me explain my realisation.

Today, I brought my medical files to Snape. He went through it and asked me more questions. Then, he even had me open my mouth so he could inspect the back of throat or something. He had one of those sticks to hold my tongue down. I thought he’d be rough and everything, but he was surprisingly gentle with that stick. Too bad his expression didn’t look gentle. He looked as if he wanted to stab me with that stick, but luckily for me, he didn’t.

But anyway, after he finished everything, he told me that he’d try to figure out an antidote, but it would be much easier if he had a sample of that liquid I consumed. I hope Luna can find that damned bastard.

Then Snape told me to go. Instead of leaving, I wrote on a different parchment, Can I stay and help you with anything?

I watched him as he stared at the question. His scowl actually disappeared, and he looked at me in disbelief and asked, “Why would I want your help when you couldn’t handle my class?”

I shrugged before writing, That was years ago. I might be better at it now.

I wasn’t, really, but I didn’t want to leave yet. There was nothing for me to do, and if I left now, I’d just go bonkers at my flat. I really needed something to do and helping Snape out with minor stuff was better than nothing. Well. It was either that or go and listen to Luna prattle on about Nargles or something. Between Snape and her, I decided Snape was the lesser of two evils — as strange as that might sound. Also, if he did get my voice back, I didn’t want to be in his debt for the rest of my life, so I figured I’d help him out here and there as a form of payment to get out of his debt.

We both looked at each other. Both of us were standing, and we were both the same height, so our eyes met easily. I stared into his dark eyes, and if possible, I saw it darken. In a low, guttural voice, he responded, “Fine. Make yourself useful by organising those piles of parchment into my files in that cabinet. It’s in alphabetical order. When you finish, I’ll need you to clean and sanitise all those glass containers in the sink.”

I nodded. I could do all that. Snape stalked off first, and then I began to organise the parchments as he requested. As I did that, I noticed a chess set hiding off in a corner of the room. Seeing that surprised me. I didn’t think he’d like chess. An idea came to me as I pondered on getting him to play a game with me.

If he’s a good player, as good as me, then it will be a fun challenge to play him. If he sucks . . . then it’s one thing I can be better at than him!

But first, I better prove to him that I’m not that incapable of helping him out a bit.

May 24, 2005

Luna still hasn’t got a hold of Seamus yet. Where the fuck is he? Is he under the Fidelius Charm for some bizarre reason?

In the meantime, Snape got me hunting down some rare herbs with Neville in the Forbidden Forest. It was one of those herbs that only appear on the night of the full moon. So last night I had the privilege of hunting down a plant with Neville.

We did find it, but it took all night.

At least Snape got that herb. He didn’t break out into a grin or anything, but it looked as if his face went a bit soft when we handed that herb over.

It wasn’t a bad look on him. Too bad he quickly started scowling again.

Gosh, it’s difficult trying to please some people. Whatever. I’m ready for some kip.

June 1, 2005

Snape’s been keeping me busy with stuff. He also lets me run errands; I deliver his potions for some of the older folks living on the outskirts of Hogsmeade, which aren’t far from where Snape lives. I’ve found out that while he charges for business that requires his potions, for the elder wizards and witches, he gladly does it for free.

I’m surprised by his generosity. But then again, Snape, despite his “wonderful” personality as I’ve learned, can be quite unpredictable and shocking by the way he acts.

After the war, he survived Nagini’s bite. The truth of his true allegiance came out, and he was named one of the many heroes of this war . . . along with me, Neville, and others. I didn’t like the attention, but I think Snape hated it more since he’d resigned from Hogwarts and threatened the press that if they didn’t back off, he’d curse the “bumbling fools at the Prophet who disregards privacy of those who wants it”.

His threat worked, and the press began to leave him alone. Snape disappeared away from public view after that. A few years went with no words of him, but then he reappeared and started his freelancing work with potions.

During that time, he and Luna started to work with each other. This was when he apparently moved on with his life.

I find it weird that someone like Snape can move on with his life. Whereas I’m still stuck in a rut. I’m still unable to really let go of the past, let go of all those death . . .

It’s strange, Kemp. It’s funny how Snape, of all people, is capable of moving on. I want to ask how he did it, but I’ve a feeling he’ll blast me to Saturn before telling me anything. It’s good to see that he’s predictable in some ways, at least!

By the way . . . Snape didn’t tell me any of this. Luna did.

And why am I defending myself to a book?

June 13, 2005

With the full moon coming, Snape was going to work on the Wolfsbane Potion for a couple of people. He’d banned me from his workroom, saying he needed his full concentration. So I was out in the sitting room, organising some files as usual.

The afternoon passed, and it was nearing supper time when he came out of his workroom. He actually looked astonished to see me still here. Before he could say anything, though, Luna came in carrying a vial.

“Here,” she said cheerfully. “I finally tracked down Seamus in a Mona Lisa painting in Paris. Apparently his girlfriend didn’t like his philandering ways, so she punished him by spelling him trapped in the painting. I got him out and asked him to re-create the concoction, so here it is!”

Both Snape and I stared at her owlishly, and we exchanged a look. We weren’t sure if she was joking or not, but I figured it’d probably be safer to not ask. Snape probably thought the same way since he silently took the vial from her hand.

“Hopefully this will help you, Severus!” She glanced at her watch. “I’ve got to go! I promised Neville a good meal and some good sex! Good thing he likes to do it rough at times.”

I grimaced. She only grinned at me and then dreamily walked off, closing the door behind her.

Snape shook his head and grumbled too softly for me to hear, still holding the vial. I watched his dark eyes studying its content, some green-coloured liquid. He told me, “As it’s getting late, I’ll look at this tomorrow.”

I agreed. I could see that he looked rather exhausted from working all day. A shame since I was going to offer to cook us some supper.

Sort of. I can’t cook that well, but I can cook a few dishes decently. At least Neville has found them decent, and he’s quite a picky eater . . .

But I want to cook for Snape as another way to help him out. He’s too thin. He needs some meat on his bones.

Oh, fuck. I’m acting like my mother, aren’t I? Not that it’s a bad thing, but something about this doesn’t quite add up.

June 14, 2005

Snape looked quite horrid when I came to his place today. It seemed as if he’d stayed up all night long.

He answered my questioning glance by thrusting a steamy vial of some purple potion at me. “Here,” he said crisply, “is the antidote.”

I couldn’t believe it, Kemp. Even though he was tired the night before, he still stayed up to create my antidote? Wow. I was really thankful about that.

My momentary shock and gratefulness disappeared when I took the potion and sniffed at it. It smelled quite foul. I grimaced, and I looked at him. I really didn’t want to drink it up since I had a bad feeling it’d taste just the way it smelled. Pinching my nose and throwing my head back, I gulped down the content.

How disgusting was it? Terribly revolting. Imagine twenty dungbombs mixed with garlic and ginger. It was that awful. I wanted to puke up what I swallowed, but I forced myself to keep it down.

I had let out a loud “Yuuuuuuuuuuck!”. Can you imagine it? I’d lost my voice for a long time, and that was the first thing I said after regaining it back?

Snape gave me what passed as an amused look on him.

I coughed and spluttered before I told him thanks. My voice sounded scratchy and unused. “T-tha . . . thanks.”

I felt Snape’s eyes sweeping over me, and he told me, “I must return to the Wolfsbane Potion.”

That was my cue to leave, and I did.

My voice was back, but I felt empty. Why?

June 16, 2005

Well, fuck me. I miss that greasy git. I actually miss his surly personality. Have I lost my bloody mind?

June 23, 2005

I went back to singing and playing for the regulars at my job. They cheered when they saw me. Apparently my temporary replacement was Millicent Bulstrode, and I knew for a fact that her voice was terrible. Horribly off-key. I wonder what my boss was smoking when he decided to let her take my spot.

Oh, well. It’s done with.

I’ve just come back from my meeting with Luna. She still encourages me to write in here, and she has congratulated me on my voice coming back. But now I’m craving McDonald’s. Especially their milkshakes. But I don’t want to eat alone. I think I’ll buy some and take it with me to Snape. I wonder if he’s ever had them. Can’t hurt to try. At worse, he’ll just kick me out after throwing a hex at me.

June 24, 2005

Amazing. Snape just accepted the food without giving me a hard time. He didn’t hex me, nor did he kick me out. He did scowl at me and asked why I brought over “such indedible pieces of rubbish that are passed as food” though.

He still tried the burgers and the fries, complaining it was too greasy (irony, Kemp?), and then we settled for a game of chess. I met my lifelong chess partner; he was that bloody good at it. It was a tough match, but in the end, I somehow won, and he gave me a murderous look.

I’m not surprised he’s a sore loser. Sore loser or not, that match has completely exhausted me mentally and physically. I need sleep.

June 26, 2005

An interesting conversation took place between Snape and me at his cottage today. I had nothing to do until work started, so I decided to visit him. I decided to write this in the following format since I couldn’t be arsed to add in descriptions and stuff. And besides, it’s faster.

S: Why do you keep coming back here, Weasley?
R: To help you with whatever you need help with. Is that a problem?
S: You have your voice. I’m sure you have other stuff to do now.
R: As weird as this’ll sound, I find myself . . .
S: Just say it. Otherwise you’re wasting my time!
R: I like being around you.
S: I beg your pardon?
R: I . . . I got used to your snarky attitude.
S: Snarky? Is that even an actual word?
R: I think so. I mean that word does fit you. Somehow.
S: I have a feeling I shouldn’t accept that as a compliment.
R: Well . . . well . . . er, you want to beat me at chess one day?
S: You said I’m snarky. Now you’re assuming I want to beat you in a game?
R: You did have a very sour look on your face when I defeated you.
S: Impertinent brat.
R: I think cheeky sounds better than that.
S: . . . Well, you’re here. Might as well make yourself useful.

In the end, he had me do filing, labelling, and chopping. Only he had to remind me to not chop so sloppily. Some things just never change.

But now I can’t help but wonder just why I want to be with him. I mean . . . he’s snarky and cantankerous, yet I feel some sort of a strange connection between us. It’s as if I feel like he understands my pain of being alone. Of course, I think his is a choice for the most part, but for me, it’s not a choice. Yet I’m also aware of some sort of weariness about him that I also have.

Bah. It’s three in the morning. I don’t think I make sense this late. Or early. Whatever.

June 30, 2005

I had a revelation today.

And it was all thanks to Luna.

According to her, I like Snape.

. . . Kemp, I think she’s right. And I think I need a drink.

July 4, 2005

I still haven’t gotten over my shock at the simple fact of me liking Snape. I haven’t gone back to his place yet since I’ve discovered my attraction to him. It’s fucked up. I mean, I’ve had my share of one night stands and lovers of both genders, but to like someone like him? When I lost my voice, have I also lost my brain?

Maybe this is a phase. Maybe this’ll disappear in a few days.

July 7, 2005

I visited Snape, and he actually asked me why I hadn’t come by lately. A blush nearly ruined it all for me, but I kept it at bay, and I just told him that I was busy with work. I don’t think he believed me, but he didn’t try to do Leglimency on me — which I appreciate!

We worked quietly together, and I found myself studying him discreetly as possible. He was brewing something that required all of his concentration. His eyebrows were closely knitted together, and his thin lips kept moving as he muttered to himself. His stained fingers gripped the stirrer tightly as his arms moved quite gracefully in counter-clockwise direction. The steam from the cauldron obscured his face a bit, but I could see it was red and wet from the heat. His lank hair was tied back for once, which gave me a good view of his high cheekbones and his hairless face.

I was really glad I wore robes. They hid my body’s reaction from him.

Later, he sent me away to do some delivery. As I walked towards Hogsmeade, I tried to come up with a list of reasons why I like Snape. My list is a bit . . . illogical.

1. He’s tall and slim, though a bit too thin, I think.
2. He’s no Lockhart, but he’s handsome in his own way. I mean, aside from his too big nose and his greasy hair . . . at least he has these intense eyes. Looking in them sends shiver down my spine. I think it’s a combination of fear and lust.
3. He’s intelligent. His chess and potions skills say a lot about him. Plus, he did create some spells, too. Albeit, dangerous ones.
4. His personality is strangely enticing. Okay, I don’t exactly enjoy his bitching when he’s in a PMS-y mood, but at least he’s not fake like Fudge or Skeeter.
5. I just find him attractive, somehow. Somehow.

ARGH. That whole saying about how love isn’t easy to understand? Multiply that about a hundred, and that will explain my feelings towards Snape.

Or maybe a thousand.

July 9, 2005

I might not understand my feelings towards Snape, but I’m certain of one thing: I have to make the first move in this whole thing.

Therefore, I have plans tonight that involve cooking a homemade meal and providing alcohol.

We’ll see how this goes.

July 11, 2005

Oh, Merlin.

I think I bollocksed it up terribly.

And just when everything was going well, too! I just had to go and fuck it all up!

After I helped him with his work, I told him I was going to cook us some bangers and mash. I knew that was a favourite dish of his, so it was a good thing I can cook that decently! Well, dinner passed with us talking about random subjects about potions, music (he apparently likes Muggle classical music and is fond of Chopin), the Ministry, and chess. Nothing out of the ordinary occurred. Just us two bantering and conversing like normal.

After we finished our meal, we cleaned up and went to his sitting room for some scotch. We were on that freezing sofa together. I ended up drinking a bit too much, and now I deeply regretted that.

In my slightly pissed state, I leaned over and kissed him. His lips were chapped, but they felt so good against mine. So warm. I backed away first with a silly grin on my face, but that quickly disappeared when I saw a stormy look in his eyes. The lips that I had just kissed seconds ago parted, and he hissed, “This is not funny, Weasley.”

That was when I realised I had fucked up. When I stood, the room spun around me. My mouth had gone dry, but I still managed to say “Sorry”, and then I hightailed out of his cottage.

Fuck, fuck, fuck! I don’t even know if he fancies blokes! I’ve snogged him without thinking! It’s obvious he hates it! Shite, I’m a dunderhead!

July 15, 2005

Since the day I became an idiot, I didn’t leave my flat, and I purposely didn’t go to my appointment with Luna today. My truancy must have given her the idea to come to my flat and pound my door down.

She found me in my bed, the covers all thrown around me. I would have never guessed it with her slight build, but she managed to yank me out of bed and told me to come have tea with her in my sitting room.

She just took over my flat like she owned it.

I’ve decided that if she ever gets mad, I don’t want to be around her when it happens.

Anyway, as I nursed over my cup of tea, she dragged the story out of me. When I finished, she and I talked.

L: Severus came to me, asking if you’d drown yourself in the Thames. He sent me a message saying “If that Weasley killed himself without giving me any explanation for that indecent act, I will personally bring him back alive and kill him myself.” Why didn’t you just tell him what you felt, Ron?
R: He’s the one who said, “This is not funny, Weasley”! With that statement, do you think I’d really tell him how I feel? I mean, it’s obvious he didn’t like it!
L: Ron, he was just trying to figure out if that was a joke or not. You know how sensitive his kinds are.
R: I wasn’t aware he was part of a “kind”.
L: Of course he is! He’s like a dangerous beast who, once tamed, can be the most loyal person ever.
R: Say what?
L: I’m just saying that he’s a bit too uptight and protective of himself, so he’ll come off quite standoffish, but that was not his intention.
R: You’re confusing me.
L: I’m just trying to tell you that I think he fancies you, too. Just less openly so.
R: Wait, wait, wait. He likes me?
L: I would imagine so. Why else would he come to my office to inquire about you?
R: But, but, but . . .
L: Oh! I think there might be Nargles near here. You’re repeating stuff in triplets . . . that’s a guaranteed sign that Nargles are nearby!
R: Luna . . .
L: I shall go look for them. Go see Severus, okay?

Just like that she left me as I stared after her incredulously.

If what she’s said is true — not about the Nargles, but about Snape — then I think I have plenty to think about.

July 18, 2005

I finally found the courage to go visit Snape — er, Severus. Since I like him, I realised I should start calling him that instead of “Snape”.

When I reached the door, I hesitated. I was so tempted to just go back to my flat and forget about this, but I knocked on the door instead of barging in like I had the last few weeks. I held my breath as I waited for him to answer. It felt like ages before he came to the door, and when he did, I saw a magnificent scowl etched on his face. I nearly lost my nerves before blurting, “I like you, Severus Snape! There, I admit it!”

Right after I said that, I wanted to really die and sink into a hole. Of all the things to say, I had to say something that probably made me look like a nincompoop.

I wasn’t sure what Severus would do after my pitiful declaration. To be honest, I had expected him to throw something sharp at me, but to his credit, he only stepped aside and said, “Let’s talk inside.” His scowl had transformed into a blank expression; even his eyes were shuttered, and I wasn’t able to guess what he was thinking then.

We sat at his cold sofa, but there was a gigantic space between us. I waited for him to start, and after what felt like long, agonising hours, he gave me a bloody speech along the lines of:

If you are really telling the truth here about your infatuation with me, then say your blessing since I would have tortured you until you lost your voice permanently, and this time I would have not bothered to help you get it back. Honestly, Weasley, just what are you thinking? I can see that you are not under the Imperius, so I know you are in charge of your own words and actions. You say you like me, but I am having trouble deciphering a logical reason for all this. You are a former student of mine — not to mention I am also two decades older than you at least — so I cannot fathom why you have developed these insane claims. Although you are quite idiotic and are a dunderhead, I know you are capable of finding someone better out there for you. Please spare me your foolish babbling and just get straight to the point.

I’m not sure if that’s exactly what he’s said, but that’s definitely the gist of it. A lot of underhanded compliments with underlying insults. How’s it possible that he can manage to compliment and insult me? I mean, seriously, I think that’s a gift of his along with his potions skill.

Another long moment of silence passed between us before I said my own statement.

Look, I’m not quite sure why this suddenly came to this, but I do like you. I’m well aware that you were my teacher and the whole age gap thing. But I like you. You’re temperamental, but you’re blunt, and I respect that. You don’t mince words, but I know you’re actually a decent person . . . you just express it in your own way. Also, I’m attracted to you, yes. I like your intelligence. Your personality has grown on me, and I really have enjoyed your company these past couple of months.

When the war ended, I had lost my family and my two best friends. For these seven long years, I’ve felt empty and miserable. But then when I started to be with you and Kemp, I found myself changing somehow. I feel less depressed, and I found myself liking you.

I don’t know whether you feel the same or not, but if you do . . . I’d like to . . . to . . . date you. Court you. Whatever the term you prefer.

When I finished, I kind of expected him to give me a declaration of love back at me. You know what he said instead? He asked, “Who’s Kemp?”

I was about to bang my head on the table when I glanced into his eyes. I saw something that looked like jealousy. Let’s just say that gave me some hope as I responded, “Oh, just a book I write in.”

“I’m being compared to a diary?” I rolled my eyes. I didn’t think Snape could sound so childish, but he sounded put off right then and there.

“It was Luna’s suggestion, okay?”

Once I said that, he nodded soberly. “That explains it all.”

“Yes,” I said.

By then, I was unsure of what to do or say next, but he heaved a huge sigh and said, “You know I am not going to change into a sentimental fool, right?”

I had to prevent a grin from escaping me. Hearing that Snapeish statement just made me want to burst out laughing. I didn’t, though. I reached out the touch his face, my fingers touching the flyaway strands from his loose ponytail (which were greasy, but it didn’t feel as bad as I’d imagined), and I gently stroked his cheeks. In a soft voice, I muttered, “I wouldn’t expect anything like that from you. Though I can’t help but wonder if you’ll be this cantankerous in bed.”

He smirked at me. That smirk gives me much to look forward to, and even more so after he proclaimed, “You’ll have to see for yourself.”

After that, he had to go back to his work, and I felt like I had come back home when I started my usual routine of helping him out.

Kemp, this . . . this has turned out much better than I expected. I know being with him is not going to be easy than being with a more cheerful person, but I really couldn’t be arsed to be with anyone that’s not Severus.

I’ve been smitten by him.

July 28, 2005

You know, Kemp. Writing in you has helped me a lot. But I don’t think I’ll write all the wonderful and steamy details of my night with Severus in here. I don’t see the point. It will take more than mere words to describe my feelings and emotions on what I’ve experienced as the most intense and passionate love-making session in my life.

It was that fucking good, Kemp.

Though I think I’ve nearly pulled my back out from all that exertion. At least with that excuse, I can get more kisses from Severus. He’s such a great kisser. One snog from him will heal me from any ailments!

On a second thought, I think I will jot down some details of that fantastic sex I’ve had. If I ever have amnesia or go senile, this entry will at least allow me to remember some bits of it!

Let me start from the beginning. First, we had dinner, and then we retired to his sitting room. We were back on that freezing sofa, but this time I remembered to cast a warming charm on it, which my arse and back thanked considerably. Anyway, we were lounging there, and we were both unsure what to do next. I knew I was nervous and uncertain; I really didn’t want to fuck anything up.

But then I wrapped an arm around his thin shoulders, and I could feel him stiffen. Just as I was about to take my arm back, he turned his head slightly to look at me. His face had a hard look to it, but his eyes told another story. They were lit with desires and wants, and I felt like I was being smouldered by its depth.

Severus kissed me first, and I had to admit it was a bit awkward . . . we both had to adjust our angles since his nose was in the way, but once that was figured out . . .

I know I’m repeating myself, Kemp, but Severus is a GREAT kisser. The way he used that tongue — swirling and rubbing against mine, tasting the peppermint tea he had minutes ago — it was bloody brilliant.

When we broke the kiss — well, when I had to since I was about to die from oxygen deprivation — he told me in his velvety voice to move this to the bedroom. I was not about to disagree to that proposition, so we both resumed another round of snogging on top of his bed. Severus was on his back, and I was on top of him, my body fitting perfectly against his. The more we snogged, the more I had turned hard, and I could feel his own hardness against mine, and when he moved his hips against mine, I nearly fainted from the pleasure.

Together, we stripped our clothes off — fine, we ripped our clothes off — and when we were naked from heads to toes, Severus insisted to stop wallowing in doubt and take the next step. I wasn’t quite expecting that. See, I thought he would naturally want to be on the top, what with his forceful personality and whatnot, but I guess that wasn’t the case in sex. I didn’t question it; I couldn’t question it since I was too eager to take the next step.

There was a small vial of lubricant on his nightstand — one he made naturally — and when I poured some on my finger, I had to force myself to not rush this. I didn’t want to hurt him any more than necessary. I knew from experience that being on the bottom was not always pleasant no matter how many times one went through it.

But Merlin, it was really difficult to hold back when I prepared him, and it was really a challenge to not thrust quickly when I finally went inside. It was so intense and powerful that I nearly blacked out again. However, I kept my head clear. I looked down at him, looked down at the way his hair was sprawled out on the pillow, the way his pale fingers clenched at the sheets, and the way his chest heaved as he relaxed himself.

It was a sight to behold. I couldn’t stop staring at him. It was just beautiful.

Severus broke that spell by urging me to continue, and I complied. As I moved, I kissed him again and again, and he kissed back, his hands grabbing and holding onto my back. His moans and mine combined together until it was one. When we reached our climaxes, he came first with me following him few seconds later.

If anything ever happens to us in the future, I don’t think I can ever forget this experience. I never want to forget, but just in case I do, I have this to remember with.

But I think it’s time for me to stop writing for now. As embarrassing as this might sound, I’ve got turned on by writing these recollections. That pain in my back is now replaced with arousal in my stomach. I’ve got to go find Severus now to see if we can do a repeat of all I’ve just written!

July 31, 2005

Today was Harry’s birthday. After seven years of avoiding the depressing place, I decided to finally pay my visit to his grave. Despite his grumblings, Severus came with me to the cemetery. I bought flowers and some Chocolate Frogs for Harry. Severus went off to visit Dumbledore’s grave to give me privacy. I sat in front of the grave and eyed the 1980 to 1998 on the tombstone. Eighteen years. Those two numbers sadden me, and I felt tears in my eyes, but I busied myself pulling out weeds and making his grave look nicer. Then I talked to him.

I told him about Severus. I told him about my adventures of losing my voice. I told him everything about how miserable I was these seven years. But now that I have Severus . . . I could stop living and clinging to the past that would never come back. I told him all that, and I told him that I hoped he was happy wherever he was now. And of course, I wished him a happy birthday.

When I finished, I visited everybody else. I pretty much talked with all of them, told them pretty much the same thing I told Harry. As I talked with each member of my family, I felt lightness in my heart, which slowly spread all over me.

I’ll always miss my friends and family, but at least now I have Severus with me. And Luna and Neville. And even Seamus. I have great friends, a good job, and a wonderful lover.

I can finally move on, Kemp. Luna’s right about writing down my feelings, and I think I’ll keep doing this whenever I can.

But for now, I think I shall go see if Severus wants to go for a round of chess. He still has yet to beat me, but we’ve got time. We’re wizards, and we still have a hundred or so years left in our lives. He’ll beat me one day.

“Ten points from Gryffindor!” Severus barked out as one of the cauldrons from the Gryffindor’s side of the room spilled over. The Slytherins sniggered and pointed at the mess, but they quieted down as their Head of House gave them a look.

Severus stalked up the third-year responsible, who was a quivering mess right now, and said in a low voice, “You will serve three days detention with Mr. Filch, understood?”

Without saying a word, the poor student nodded quickly, and then nearly fainted with relief as Severus walked away.

At that moment, class ended, and Severus with a simple flick of his wand, had the mess cleaned up in seconds. As everyone, Gryffindors and Slytherins, all dashed out of the classroom, Severus sat in his chair at his desk and rubbed the bridge of his forehead. He was in a foul mood, and the whole school knew it.

Severus growled and slammed a fist on the desk. He was furious with his lover, Harry Potter. While Severus knew Harry was busy with his job, and while he did respect the fact that Harry was a diligent, respectful worker, he did not appreciate being neglected and ignored over these past few weeks. And with Christmas coming around, he did not know how he could handle an absent lover in what was supposedly the happiest time of the year.

Three years ago. That was when Harry had first confessed his love to Severus. Knowing all the consequences facing him, Severus had tried to shun, discourage, and push Harry away. Instead, somehow, even when he did not want to, he had found himself coaxed into this relationship. Harry had him wrapped around his fingers. Up to this day, Severus had no clue on how a cunning, manipulative Slytherin like him could be walked all over by a Gryffindor.

“Yes, a Gryffindor with some Slytherin tendencies,” he muttered to himself, lacing his fingers in front of his face as he leaned into them. “That boy will be the death of me one day.”

Severus’ sneaky mind rushed into a frenzied state as he came up with an idea. An idea to pay Harry back. A slow, smug smile came to his face. Had anyone been in the room at the moment and had seen it, they would have been very frightened.

It was Christmas Eve, and Harry felt exhausted as he walked into Severus’ quarters. He finally had some time off from work, and the first thing he wanted to do was to go find Severus.

Harry stopped in mid-walk and stared at the object sitting smack in the middle of the room.

The object resembled a tent. A huge tent. It was almost as tall as him. He peeked into the opening, and said, “Severus? Are you in there?” He received no answer. Curiously, he stuck his head in further. The inside was more spacious than it had indicated from the outside. He ducked his head down as he stepped in.

Inside, he saw a table with two chairs opposite from each other. On the table were rose petals. Amongst the petals, there were plates of food filled with all of his favourites. He sensed a warming charm placed on the food. The wonderful smell of the meal went up his nose, and he could feel his stomach growling in hunger and his mouth salivating.

He walked a few steps and saw that beyond the table was an area decorated, in Slytherin green and silver, of course, with huge pillows and smaller throw pillows around the area. Harry coughed as he realised just what that could be used for.

“What is going on? And where in Godric is Severus?” Harry asked himself. He pondered that question as he waited. He glanced at his watch, a gift from Hermione two years ago, and saw the date.

He then realised that it was Christmas Eve.

“Fuck!” He looked at the decorated area, and guilt began to gnaw at him. He had neglected Severus these past few weeks, thanks to his job. Even though Harry had basically put his job before his lover and completely forgot about Christmas coming up, Severus still did all of this for him.

He heard Severus’ voice behind him. “Do you like what you see?”

Harry whipped around, feeling so guilt-stricken. “I . . . I’m sorry. I completely forgot. I’ve been so busy. This is really great, but I don’t deserve this! Why did you do this?” He cried out the last sentence, and then Severus stopped Harry’s babbling by putting a finger on the lips.

Severus went on in his silky voice. “I did this because I knew this would manipulate you into feeling guilty for nearly forgetting about me.”

Harry stared into the dark eyes, seeing the feelings of unhappiness mixed with irritation. “I’m sorry, Severus. You know I didn’t mean to disregard you these past weeks. Is there anyway I can make it up to you?”

Severus reached out and gently caressed the cheeks, feeling the beginning of stubble. He studied Harry, and he could see that his lover was really feeling guilty. As much as he knew he could be cruel, he didn’t want to ruin their holiday like this. He sighed and said, “Yes. Celebrate Christmas with me in here. I just want to be with you for the next forty-eight hours.”

A small smile came to Harry as he leaned in and planted a soft kiss on the lips. “Of course. After you all, you went through all the trouble to create this wonderful gift. Thank you, Severus.”

Severus quietly tilted Harry’s head and said, “Happy Christmas, Harry.” Without another word, he kissed Harry deeply, all resentment forgotten in the holiday spirit.

Severus’ POV

I look around, in abhorrence at the new room I have received not so long ago. I hate how the sunlight creeps through those annoying windows. The curtains, heavy and velvety, are drawn apart so the light can brighten up the room and give colour to them. I can feel the warmness from the great ball of gas and I absolutely hate it. This new atmosphere disgusts me.

I miss my cold, dark rooms down in the dungeons. I feel like a prisoner here, being punished by all this indirect cheeriness and warmth.

Alas, this isn’t for me though. This is all for my lover, Harry.

Yes, Harry Potter. The-Boy-Who-Lived. The-Boy-Who-Defeated-Lord-Voldemort. The bane of my existence, other than Neville Longbottom. The person who I acted like an ass to, to cover up my position as a spy. And lastly, the person who changed me the most, and yet hasn’t changed me at all.

I glance over to my lover, whom I fell for during his seventh year. Three years has passed since then. He finally annihilated Voldemort and ever since that time a few months ago, he has changed.

Harry is sitting in front of that damnable window, his head tilted up to look at the sky, and not once moving. Not even blinking. I grab the eyedropper, with my own concocted potion and with gentle ease, I let go of three drops for each of his eyes. Instinctively, I know that I’ll have to do this again soon.

Harry, the ever once energetic brat, has been diagnosed with Paranoid and Catatonic Schizophrenia. Curse those Muggles for thinking up such strange names for their diseases. The mediwizards say that after going through so many traumatic experiences in his life, it’s not surprising that someone like Harry would acquire this.

I scowl at the thought of Albus pushing the boy too far, letting him endanger his own life repeatedly, and letting him return to those damn Muggle relatives of his. I wish I could bring Voldemort – no, Riddle, back from the dead and murder him with my own bare hands for bringing such misery and hardship into this young man’s life ever since the age of one. Those two men, each alike and different in their own ways, ruined the boy.

As much as I hate to admit, I think Black’s death was the start of all this. Then the youngest Weasley boy got himself killed, along with Hagrid in his sixth year, which added more anxiety to his already stressed mind. Other classmates of his, either on the light or dark side, have been killed as well. He thinks he’s the cause of all these deaths. No matter how many times Granger, Lupin (who took Black’s role as godfather), and I tell him otherwise. Stubborn little bugger.

The final straw happened when he defeated Riddle. The realisation of all the people he lost and the stress of it all got to him.

The first couple weeks, he became more paranoid than Moody. When eating in the Great Hall, he’d check his food and drinks for strange curses and hexes. He’d look around nervously, even while talking with Lupin and Granger. He would cringe away when others would try to touch him.

I didn’t see this as anything unusual. After my role as a spy for both leaders of each side, I tended to be paranoid myself. Considering what Harry has gone through, I didn’t think anything else was wrong with the situation.

Later on, he’d have bouts of moments when his body and mind would freeze entirely and he would not move, not even to blink. Whether he was standing up, sitting down, or laying in bed, he became immobile.

That caught my attention and made me realise that something was not right. I begrudgingly consulted Granger and she, still an insufferable know-it-all, had suspicions that Harry might be suffering from a mental illness.

After convincing him to get a check up, Granger’s hypothesis was proven correct, as usual. Harry didn’t acknowledge this fact when he was told. He simply stared with a blank expression. He still denies ever having those diseases.

But his freezing moments have become worse and his paranoia has gotten to the point where he claims he hears voices around him. He says Riddle is still alive and that Ron has never died.

That was the turning point for me. Before I hadn’t been able to accept his diagnosis. But after seeing Harry’s brilliant mind becoming torn, I decided to push the matter myself.

Sometimes I ask myself why he has to be so persevering and in denial of his ailments. There are some days when he’s easy to handle, and others where I practically force the medicine and potions down his throat. Yet, the remedies are taking forever to work. This fact frustrates me. I know that schizophrenia isn’t curable, but still seeing how much Harry has to take when it comes to medications, I sometimes ask, is it worth it?

Knowing that Harry is going through all this mental pain upsets me. I tell myself that at least he isn’t a true vegetable like Longbottom’s parents. His Gryffindor courage is keeping him from digressing further, despite his occasional denial. Whenever he comes back from his catatonic or paranoid moments, I see so many emotions in his face. I see disgust, probably at himself, frustration over not being able to control his brain, and wonderment at the fact that I am still here instead of leaving him.

Silly boy. I might not be as fiercely loyal as those brainless Hufflepuffs, but he’s my lover. I know that Harry’s ailments aren’t a trivial matter, but I am not about abandon him to Gryffindor’s care, and this gives me an excuse to research into making my own potions for schizophrenic patients.

But other than the time he’s sane, I love him the most when he comes back to me from the periods of his inner attacks. The fact that one day, he’ll get lost in himself, wholly, frightens me.

Since when did I allow him, Harry Potter, to wrap around his little finger on me? These new feelings, love being one of them, have changed me. I am still the snarky, sarcastic bastard, but inside, I feel love and hope for him. Sometimes I do want to just let everything go back the way it was. These feelings are so foreign, yet they fill me completely. Knowing that I’d do anything for the bloody, but loving, prat, puts me at ease.

And that brings me back to the subject of the rooms. I left my dungeons for Harry. He hadn’t moved in before, but we were thinking about it. I figure that if the sun is in the room and adds colour, it is a healthier environment for him. Reluctantly, I talk to Albus about the matter, and it’s settled.

I do notice the change in him. He seems more content with the sun, the heat. He did always like to go outside by himself to just stare up at the skies and feel the crisp breeze and let himself be washed away by the rays. So the rooms do have a positive effect and I tell myself that being in this room isn’t all for nothing after all.

Anything is worth seeing Harry content. Such sacrifices must be made. But I really hope I find a cure or a potion that keep his mind rational for longer periods of time. It’s not bloody likely, but for the first time in years, I feel hope. All thanks to the boy who made my life previously miserable and now is the pillar of everything.

Outside, in the snow covered landscape near the lake, stood a single figure. Snow was gently falling around him and he wore a pensive expression. He lifted his head up so he could feel the snow on his face and sighed. Fortunately, the weather wasn’t all that cold. Chilly yes, but freezing? Never. Not when he had so much to think about, and each thought brought him such happiness and warmth.

It’s been almost a year since we became lovers. I, myself, can hardly believe it. Who would have thought this would turn out like this? I still remember the first day we met. I thought he was the one who caused the pain in my scar, but alas, I was wrong. Nevertheless, I despised him and made a vow to stay far away from him. He did the same or so he tried, but fate just had other plans for us. He chuckled.

I remember how we were paired up many times during the war. Ironically, each time we were together, we were the ones fighting. However as time went on, I came to respect him. I’m thankful that the war ended just when I was ready to leave Hogwarts, at the end of my seventh year. The war was tough on everyone. We’ve lost many wizards and witches who were on our side. Nevertheless, life still went on.

Yes. Life did go on. It was tough on all of us. The pain was all heavy in our hearts. Yet as time passed, it grew dimmer and dimmer. Each of us found new ways to be happy, and my lover and I definitely found our joy.

As he was gazing at his surroundings, he sighed contentedly. Regardless of how familiar it was, it felt magical to him. The wind softly blew around him and even though little bits of snow were getting on him, he didn’t mind. Right now he could care less if a volcano were to erupt right from under him.

It was two years later when I saw him again. He hadn’t changed at all. I had returned to Hogwarts to teach Muggle Studies, and seeing him turned my world upside down. I didn’t know what I was feeling then, but then I realised that the emotion was love. At first it scared me deeply. I thought I was deluded so I tried denying it to myself. That just made me felt worse.

Yet, he was the one who gave me courage and hope to approach him. There were times when I felt his eyes on me. At first, I told myself that I was just being paranoid. However during dinner one night last year, I caught him staring at me, and I knew then he felt the same way as I did. Call me crazy, but I saw so many emotions in his eyes in a short period of time. I was only able to distinguish three emotions and they were love, hope, and lastly fear. Yes, fear. Strange for someone who’s been leading a double life since he was a teenager. But I understood.

Not everyone supported our relationship. Sirius nearly blew up Hogsmeade when he found out. Hermione and Ron were aghast. They couldn’t believe I snogged, shagged, and of course loved the “slimy git”. The entire Weasley clan, minus the twins and Ginny, were disgusted. The twins just found it hilarious. Ginny, who’s quite fond of potion, got to know our professor and found out that there was a lot more to him than that arrogant façade. She greatly supported us and I am thankful of that. Same thing with Remus. If it weren’t for him, Sirius would have killed Severus by now and I’d have to kill Sirius to revenge my lover. Fortunately for all of us, that didn’t happen.

Yes. Call me a hypocrite. I thought he was a cold bastard, but he wasn’t. Deep inside lives a cunning and sensitive man. His sarcasm will knock down anyone, but that’s one thing I’ve come to love about him. I don’t care about the fact that he went to school with my father and mother. Age shouldn’t be associated with love. People claim that he is ugly. Well not to me. I see a handsome and sexy man in front of me. I don’t give a damn about what everyone says. He’s my Severus. My sexy Sev.

Harry’s train of thoughts were suddenly interrupted by soft footsteps behind him. He smiled gently as a pair of strong arms wrapped around him. Harry instinctively leaned into the taller man’s broad chest. Severus tightened his hold and bent his head to nuzzle in his lover’s dishevelled hair.

“Aren’t you cold?” he huskily asked.

Harry shook his head. “Sev, I am never cold when I think of you.”

Severus turned the Gryffindor around till they were facing each other. “You stayed out here for the last thirty minutes thinking about me? You must be mad.”

Harry grinned. “Well, I’ve been called mad a thousand times, so one more time makes no difference.”

“Insolence will not be tolerated, Mr. Potter,” Snape deadpanned.

“I cannot wait for my punishment.”

“So what exactly were you thinking?” He started to kiss Harry’s cheek.

“I was just contemplating our relationship.”

“My my, so my foolish Gryffindor does know how to think after all.”

“Of course, Severus. I do have a brain after all.” With that said, Harry kissed him. “Happy Christmas, love.”

Sirius Black was ecstatic. Today was Christmas Eve and it was his and Remus’ anniversary. It was their first Christmas Eve after the defeat of Lord. Voldemort. And he insanely decided that he wanted to bake a cake. Never mind the fact he had never cooked in his entire life, but he wanted to try and make the best cake for his lover. Harry decided to help out by dragging Remus out of the house for the whole day. Hermione helped out by giving him cookbooks and getting the ingredients for him. Now, Sirius had the whole flat to himself and he planned to bake the World’s Yummiest Chocolate Cake for his lover.

Sirius looked through the cookbook and read it out loud. “Preheat the oven, crack three eggs, pour flour, tut, tut.” Sirius tutted. “This looks so easy. And Snape had the bloody nerve to accuse me of not being able to cook. We’ll see about that!” A week before, another infamous Black/Snape war had broken out and one reason or another, they got into a dispute on who could cook better or what not. Severus Snape, who could actually cook like a gourmet chef, knew that Sirius had never cooked in his life. Sirius, being Sirius, didn’t want Snape to have the last word, so he denied everything and claimed he could at least bake a cake. That was the reason why Sirius was now standing in his kitchen, looking rather confused by some of the cooking terminology.

“What the bloody hell does it mean to ‘shift’ the damn flour?” Sirius dumped out the content of flour into the bowl. “Shift? These Muggles come up with some weird stuff . . . ”

“Well that looks shifted enough for me, now onto the other stuff.” The next few minutes were full of silent as Sirius measured out the baking powder, salt, sugar, cocoa, and vanilla.

“Crisco shortening eh?” Sirius measured out the shortening and then put it into the bowl. He then tried to mix them up. “For Godric’s sake! How am I supposed to mix this when this shortening thing is a huge lump? It certainly isn’t getting any softer . . . ”

After thirty minutes, Sirius figured out that he had to soften it up in the microwave. Then he took him another good ten minutes to figure out how the microwave worked. “Arthur Weasley is a brainless git for thinking that Muggles’ objects are fascinating,” Sirius grumbled. Once he figured out how to work the microwave, he put the cup of shortening in there and waited. When it was done 3 minutes later, the shortening was burnt to crisp. Out of frustration, he kicked the counter and got a sore foot. “Bloody hell!”

After he realised that he was supposed to soften the shortening up for less than a minute, he started all over again. After mixing up the ingredients together, he poured them into the pan as the cookbook directed. He then popped it in the oven and decided to go outside and work on his motorbike till the cake was done.

2 hours later . . .

“Blast it! Remind me to make a mental note to myself to never work on my motorbike when I am cooking!” Sirius dejectedly pouted at the cake that was all burnt and crispy. Sirius sighed and looked at the clock. “Man and I only got 3 more hours to bake this bloody thing.” He looked around the kitchen. “Oh man, Moony is going to kill me when he sees the kitchen in this state.”

“BBRRRING!” Sirius jumped at the sound of the phone ringing. “Why did we ever decide to get a phone?” He ran to the living room and answered it. “Hello?”

“So, Black. How’s the cake coming along?” Snape’s usual sneer was heard through the phone.

Sirius groaned. “What do you want Snape. I am busy baking right now!”

“Just calling to see if you burn the flat down yet. Apparently you haven’t since you are still alive and kicking.”

“Yes. Sorry to disappoint you.” Sirius scowled at the wall. “How in Merlin’s world did you know I was baking a cake?”

“Your precious Godson told me. He figured that you might need a little help, so he asked me to check up on you.”

“Harry did that? Remind me to kill the little bugger!” Sirius felt betrayed.

Snape rolled his eyes on the other side. “Oh, quit being so melodramatic. I know you want to bake the cake yourself, so I’ll just come over there and give you a little guidance.”

Sirius’ shoulders fell in defeat. “Fine!” he growled. “But be civil!”

“You too.” With that, Severus hung up.

Few minutes later, Severus appeared in the middle of the kitchen with a loud “Pop”. He looked around disgustedly. There were pots and pans everywhere and smell of burnt bakery was in the air. “No wonder you never did too well in Potions.”

Sirius glared. “Shut up and do what you came here to do!”

With a bored expression, Severus looked through the recipe. “For Salazar’s sake. This is the easiest recipe for chocolate cake out there and you can’t even make this?”

“Just shut up and tell me what to do!”

The Slytherin sighed and started to guide the Gryffindor step by step. As Sirius started everything again, he gradually understood what went wrong. An hour later, the cake was done and all that was left to do was to frost it.

“I don’t think I need to guide you through this, do I?” Severus drawled.

Sirius concentrated on getting the frosting on the cake and didn’t say anything to the other man. Thirty minutes later, the cake was all done. Sirius proudly looked at it. It was a chocolate cake with chocolate frosting on it. On the top it had a picture of a dog and a werewolf and the words ‘Happy Anniversary, Moony!’ were written on it in vanilla frosting.

“Wonderful accomplishment, Black. Now let’s clean up.” Both Severus and Sirius cleaned with their wand and that was a breezy clean up.

Sirius was about to go upstairs and change when the front door opened. Harry, Remus, Hermione, and Ron all came in laughing. Remus sniffed the air and realised that someone has been cooking. He sniffed again and felt overwhelmed by the smell of chocolate. He walked into the kitchen and saw Sirius looking very messy. His clothes were rumpled up and he had a little bit of frosting on his face. He then looked at the countertop and saw the cake.

With a surprised expression, he looked at the cake and back to Sirius. He put two and two together and realised that Sirius went through all the trouble to bake this. He tried to talk, but his throat refused to cooperate. “Paddy . . .  the cake . . . you . . . for us . . . ?”

Sirius nodded happily. “For our anniversary, love. I know it’s not much, but I know you love chocolate and I figured I’d have to learn how to make something sooner or later . . . ”

He never got to finish the sentence as Remus launched himself onto his mate and kissed him passionately. Harry grinned like an idiot. Ron and Hermione both smiled politely. Severus just looked bored. Sirius didn’t care about that and kissed Moony back.

After a few minutes of intense snogging, they both broke apart. “Paddy, this is the best present I could ever receive from you. Thank you so much.”

Sirius stared into the intense eyes. “Anything for you love. Anything.”

Ron stared at the cake hungrily. “Let’s eat this now? I’m so starving!”

Everyone laughed and Sirius got out the plates and forks for the cake. Ten minutes later, the cake was no more and everyone was satisfied.

“Happy Christmas, everyone,” said Remus

“Yes. I agree. And I am glad to see that the cake didn’t poison anyone!” Sirius laughed gaily.

“Yes. I admit you did well, Black,” Snape grudgingly admitted.

Harry learned and kissed his lover on the cheek. “There. Giving him a compliment wasn’t so hard now, was it?”

Severus glared him and Harry just glared back. Everyone around them laughed and the gaiety just went on.

Severus watched the ingredients dissolve into the potion; the concoction was on the verge of finishing when a door being slammed diverted his concentration.

Severus looked up to see a fuming Argus. “Filch, you are lucky that this potion doesn’t require one hundred percent of my concentration. Otherwise, you and I would be dead by now.”

“Shut it, Snape. Can I help the fact that these brats are just out there to make my already worthless life even more miserable?” Argus walked up to Severus and leaned over the cauldron and said, “What are you brewing?”

While stirring, Severus replied, “A simple healing potion. In fact, it’s done.” Severus turned off the heat and directed his attention to his lover.

“Filch, we both know that those brats are never going to learn from any discipline, and we know that we only enforce it because when applied in a proper way, discipline can be a pleasurable torture method.”

“Not the torture method I prefer.” Grumbling, Argus leaned closer and wrapped his arms around Severus’ waist. “I don’t know why I let them get to me.”

Planting a kiss on Argus’ head, Severus whispered in his ear, “Well if they get to you, I have the perfect stress relieving technique.”

“And what would that be?” Argus teased.

“‘Snogging,’ as the brats say, you to the point that we both lack air, and ‘fucking’ you into senseless oblivion.”

A shiver ran down Argus’ spine. “Sounds deliciously acceptable.” Argus led them to Severus’ chambers. “Enough talking.”

“Yes,” said Severus, allowing himself to be directed. “Let’s begin.”