Reliving each experience as he recounted it was his penance. And he knew that he deserved it. Confessing every horrible act he had committed, and admitting how unfit he was to the woman who was his entire life… it was what he was worthy of, nothing more.
“Severus,” Madam Pomphrey poked her head around the curtain, “you have been here all day. You need to get some rest or I’ll be reserving a bed for you as well.” She ignored the way he scowled at her. It was the truth after all. Someone with a less trained eye would not be able to see the results of what he was doing to himself, but she could. She knew he wasn’t sleeping, only using an alertness potion. He could only continue on that way for so long.
“Very well, I shall be back in the morning,” Severus acquiesced, but only partly. He had no intention of resting. There was plenty of work for him to do, there was always work for him to do. He ignored Eric calling to him as he swept out of the Hospital Wing and headed towards his private lab. But halfway down the stairs to the dungeons he remembered the note in his pocket.
He reached for it, fingering the corners of the parchment. He changed direction and let himself into the Slytherin Common Room. It was empty. A quick consultation with his pocket watch and he saw that it was dinner time. So they were all up in the Great Hall.
But, instead of leaving he looked around for something to keep him occupied with. Mark McKean’s school bag was lying on the ground. A quick search of it produced a battered copy of a Winston Graham novel. It was enough to light a small spark of amusement within him. There weren’t many wizards that bothered with Muggle literature, and there were even fewer pure bloods who were likely to appreciate the trials of Ross Poldark, who was so disgusted with the elite class that he belonged to. But he wasn’t surprised to find such a book in the Head Boy’s possession. The boy had surpassed even his own expectations for him.
He took a moment to look around the Common Room, the book held loosely in his fingers. There were so many memories here… both good and bad… and he realized that most of the good ones came from after the time he had been appointed Head of Slytherin. He had never much cared for teaching, or the students in his classes, but he did enjoy being a Housemaster. At least most of the time. There were times when he desired to hand the entire House over to Filch to deal with.
As he settled in a chair, far back in a dark corner where he was not conspicuous, he realized that he had missed being down here. He understood the Slytherins, and they understood him.
The chair he had chosen for himself was so out of the way, that none of the Slytherins saw him as they came back from eating and gathered close to the fire. A dank chill always seemed to cling to the dungeons. Warming spells simply refused to stick, so the students had to rely on non-magical methods of keeping warm. They kept the fires well stoked and mountains of blankets on their beds.
“I propose a temporary ban on homework,” Mark announced as he flopped down into the chair closest to the fire. When he noticed Kay standing close by, glairing at him, hands on her hips, clearly displeased that he had taken the best seat, he pulled her down into his lap. She didn’t bother protesting.
“I second that proposal,” Brandon said enthusiastically.
“Very well then, the movement for a suspension on homework has been proposed and seconded,” Mark grinned as the rest of his Housemates settled around the fire, “now we need something else to keep us occupied...”
However, the brief enthusiasm showed over the postponement of homework had quickly dissipated. They had all been rather listless lately, to the point where their professors had started to notice a difference in class. The start of term had been even harder than they had anticipated. Even though they had predicted that none of their classmates who had left for break would return, it had been more painful than they could have possibly imagined seeing that prediction come true.
They all felt incredibly lost. Mark stared into the fire moodily as he shifted Kay to a more comfortable position. He finally began gazing around the circle of Slytherins, but none of them met his gaze… except for Sophia. And she took the challenge that his eyes held.
Her voice started out soft, hardly more than a whisper, but gradually gained power as she spoke the familiar words. Words that she had heard since her birth, in a comforting litany:
“Sing, Goddess, of the suffering of your daughter Kassandra and her journey, which took her far from home across the vast Aegean, hurling her into the arms of Agamemnon, and eventually granting freedom through the favor of your daughter Klytemnestra, and brought her, finally, to the shores of your holy isle where her temple still stands, and you are honored still.
What fates brought her, the beloved of Apollo, to this fate? You, mighty Goddess, mother of all, who in your anger at the destruction of mortals drove your daughter to her destiny, even as pain and suffering waited at the side of the road. We honor you still, mother, and repeat the story of your daughter Kassandra, So that we may remember you and that you may remember us.”
She instantly had the rapt attention of every one of her house members. She spoke with confidence, her words drawing them in. As much as she struggled with the written part of her school work, this came easily to her. The oral tradition that was so much a part of her heritage allowed her to call up the words of her childhood. Their rhythm pulsed through her veins, the gentle rise and fall of the words. It took some concentration to start out, but she quickly fell into the pattern of the story, relying on the repetitive place markers, which allowed her to think ahead in the story. She was barely aware of how intent her audience was, hardly even noticing their presence, accept for when Kay handed her a glance of pumpkin juice when her throat became dry and her voice became scratchy.
Sophia continued through the story for over four hours. She recounted the events of the Trojan War, tears freely flowing down her face, though her voice remained steady, as she told of the rape of Kassandra by Aias at the very temple of the virgin goddess. She told of the suffering of the women after the fall of Troy, of Kassandra being handed off as a war prize to the mighty Agamemnon.
She told of the birth of Kassandra’s son, a product of her forced union with the mighty Achaean king. She told of their arrival in the homeland of the son of Atreus and the death of Agamemnon at Klytemnestra’s hand. Of Klytemnestra sparing the life of Kassandra and her child, the gift of life from one priestess to another. Of Kassandra’s journey across Greece and her eventual arrival on an island off the coast of the shore where she established a temple dedicated to the goddess, the crone, the mother, and the maiden.
“Such was the journey of Kassandra, daughter of Troy.”
There was silence, except for the occasional sniffle, and Kay’s muttered thanks after Mark fished out a handkerchief for her.
Sophia stared into the flickering embers of the fire, lost in her own mind. She hadn’t been sure if she would be able to make it all the way through the epic. It had been a long time since she had recited the whole thing. She often went over her favorite parts in her head while she was waiting to fall asleep. But she had let it fall away for the most part. She didn’t understand why she had. It was so much a part of who she was. It had been her life. And she was beginning to forget the little details of the ceremonies and rites… and she had known them all by heart. She missed Greece. It was the first time she had missed it, other than for the weather of course.
Mark thought about suggesting a trip down to Salazar’s quarters. Perhaps a bit of exploring would lighten the mood. Seconds later he couldn’t believe the amount of relief he felt that he had kept his mouth shut.
“Well done, Miss Lupin,” Severus joined his students by the fire. But he remained standing, and slightly off to the side.
All of the Slytherins jumped nearly a foot they were so startled by his unexpected appearance. There were a number of grins on their part when they saw that their beloved Housemaster had returned, but they faded when they realized that he really hadn’t.
He wasn’t the same Housemaster that he had been. The one who rolled his eyes at them when he thought they weren’t looking. Who would grudgingly allow them to hug him, although he looked uncomfortable with the whole process and never returned the show of affection. Who knew exactly who had tests when and which subjects they were struggling in. Who would storm into the Common Room when they were least expecting it, robes billowing in a black cloud as dark as his mood, to put an end to any and all misbehavior, no matter how much they thought they would get away with it that time.
Now he stood away from them, not meeting their eager faces. And they visibly slumped back down. They never really envied the other Houses that they openly accepted each other, because they had Professor Snape, and he looked out for him. But now, even though he was standing here, they felt as though they had lost him.
Severus felt the disconnection as well. If he had been hoping that visiting his Slytherins would fix everything he was sorely disappointed. But some parts of Housemastering still came naturally to him, “it is late and you all have class tomorrow. Bed, now,” he jerked his head towards the dormitories.
As the students shuffled past him Mark lingered behind, waiting so that he could have a moment alone with Snape. When that was achieved he shoved his hands deep in his pockets and rocked back and forth between his heels and toes, “you know, you could tell us next time you’re lurking around down here… we asked you to come back because we missed you, not because we wanted to be spied on… sir.”
Severus nodded mutely, meeting the eyes of the Head Boy, “Mr. McKean, I am not much in the mood to do any entertaining. I shall not pretend, even for you.”
“I know sir.” Mark sighed, his shoulders slumping a bit. He hadn’t felt that much when his parents died. They hadn’t loved him, and he hadn’t loved them. It was a fact that he had come to terms with already. Feeling like he had lost his Housemaster to grief, that hurt.
And Snape seemed to read his thoughts, as he always did. He took to spending Friday nights in the Slytherin Common Room. Although he did not interact with his students as he once had, he was there. Often sitting off to the side with a book that he wasn’t really reading. His thoughts seemed less oppressive down here, quite the opposite of most people who were depressed by the dungeons. It was the only reprieve he gave himself. And he still felt guilty for taking it. He didn’t deserve even those few hours of slightly unburdened thoughts. He told himself that he was being selfish.
And the Slytherins felt that they were being selfish for badgering him into coming back to them when his heart wasn’t there as it once was.
~~~~~~~~~~~
“Are you speaking to me yet?” Remus asked, watching carefully as Nimue took Kleo from her basket and held her close. Angelos was sleeping against his own shoulder, and drooling all over the front of his shirt in the process.
“I never stopped,” Nimue said rather coolly as she made sure that Kleo was nestled safely against her.
“Well, I think it would be fair to say that you are still not happy with me.”
Nimue looked away. “You know that I don’t want to be here…”
“I think if you would just look around you would find plenty of reasons to stay. There’s your safety, the feelings of your family, all of mine and Kalliope’s efforts to keep you safe…”
Nimue put Kleo back down in her basket, “well… I suppose I have plenty of reasons for staying,” she made sure that her voice was toneless, hiding the venom that lurked right underneath the surface, “Aias proposed to me the other night, I was thinking about accepting and making it a spring wedding,” she turned on her heel all but ran out of the room before Remus could say anything.
Kalliope buried her face in her hands as Remus’ jaw dropped. She had, of course, found out all about that. She had been hoping that Remus would not.
“He did what?!” Remus moved so quickly to put Angelos down and go after Nimue that he woke the infant up. And he was not happy with being so rudely awoken and so started screaming. And that set Kleo off.
Kalliope grabbed Remus by the back of the shirt, holding him back. “Don’t even think about it. You’re not going anywhere until they’re back asleep.” She picked up her son and communicated with her eyes that if Remus moved for the door instead of his daughter he would sorely regret it. She didn’t care how long it took to get them settled down again, he wasn’t going anywhere just yet. Besides, she had a feeling that she would have to smooth a few ruffled feathers before she let him go anywhere. She didn’t want anything being said that would later be regretted.
“There now,” within a fairly short time both Angelos and Kleo were both back asleep and settled in their cradle, which Kalliope was gently rocking back and forth with her foot. “Will you be alright if I go out for a little while?” Remus reached for his wool cloak.
“No, I will not be alright if you go out for a little while. I think it would be better for all parties involved if you stayed here for the rest of the night,” Kalliope answered calmly yet firmly.
Remus threw his cloak around his shoulders anyway, “Kalliope, I have to go talk to her before she decides to do something rash. In Merlin’s name, she’s only fourteen!”
Kalliope sighed and set aside her cup of wine, “Remus, she only mentioned Aias’ proposal to upset you. It was a childish gesture, but it certainly got the effect she was looking for. Let it go for tonight. I promise she won’t be marrying anyone before morning.”
Remus did not look pleased, but hung his cloak back up anyways. He was beginning to appreciate Snape more and more. That greasy git had already seen four children through the difficult early teenage years, and never seemed to have this much trouble, at least that he could discern. But Nimue lately… and she was supposed to be the good one! He just didn’t know what to do... And then a sickening thought hit him. Would he have to go through this sort of drama all over again with Angelos and Kleo? He hoped not…
“Here, you look like you need this,” Kalliope handed her husband a cup of undiluted wine and smiled in amusement when he finished it off in a matter of seconds. He really was taking this all rather hard. She took the opportunity to run her hand through his hair. He had allowed it to grow out a bit longer, and she liked it. Years spent as a werewolf had made him start to grey early. She just hoped that this wouldn’t turn the rest of it.
“I’m not ready for this,” Remus put the empty cup down and made sure that both of the babies were well covered and sound asleep. “I feel old,” he confessed as he dropped down onto their bed, sighing heavily as he ran a weary hand over his face. He tried to remember what it had felt like to be a teenager, but had to confess that he’d rather distanced himself from those years. They felt like they were so far away… his days with James and Sirius and Peter… and all that they had done to drive their parents and teachers near to madness. He supposed that Nimue was far less rebellious than they had ever been. He’d just never been on the receiving end of that assertion before this. Even as a teacher… he supposed that, even as much as he loved teaching and being a Housemaster, he hadn’t been this emotionally involved before. It was an entirely new experience.
Kalliope smiled to herself as she climbed onto the bed behind him and wrapped her arms around his neck, “I don’t think you’re old wizard. You’re still managing to keep me perfectly happy,” she kissed him right below his left ear and then trailed a series of kisses down his neck as she snuggled against him. She really did love him, more than she ever imagined she could.
“Don’t start anything you can’t finish priestess,” Remus tried to move away from her lips. “Wait a minute…” he did some quick math in his head, “Angelos is six weeks old today, isn’t he?”
“Yes,” Kalliope enunciated slowly, making sure that Remus took in every word at its full worth, “which means that it’s been six weeks since I gave birth to him. If you take much longer on this wizard you’re going to be sleeping somewhere besides my bed tonight…”
~~~~~~~~~~
