Fic: This Masterpiece of Nature, Snape/Regulus Black R
Title: This Masterpiece of Nature
Characters/Pairing: Snape, Regulus Black, Lestranges, Avery, Wilkes, Rosier, etc. A small bit of Snape/Regulus Black but really this is mostly Genfic.
Rating: R, for bad language and adult situations.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Warnings: Angst.
Summary: Snape had friends, he still has them.
Thanks to siyamau, sor_bet, and floocrookshanks for the betas. Thanks! They're all super and my prose needs all the help it can get.
"Snape knew more curses when he arrived at school than half the kids in the seventh year and he was part of a gang of Slytherins who nearly all turned out to be Death Eaters"
There are dozens of shelves in Severus Snape's rooms, as well as bookcases, tables, and cabinets; lots of things for holding other things.
Most of the shelves are crowded with jars of preserved ingredients suspended like cream clots in lemon juice. Some shelves have books, and then there are stacks of old parchments tied with string and junk mail and old empty sacks and wrappers and all the useless ephemera that accumulates in life. Just one shelf -- the highest shelf -- has photographs. Small ones in scarred wooden frames with grimy glass, because who has time to dust? When he wants to look at them, he has to pull them down and rub them with the hem of his robe.
These are the photographs: Wilkes with an arm flung around Rosier. They're both outside, still at Hogwarts, tiny autumn leaves caught in their hair. They both look smug like they always did, and young. Wilkes smirks and makes kissy faces when Severus wipes the glass. Rosier just smiles slightly, the way he used to whenever Severus made jokes. Their frame is black.
There's Avery and Malfoy in large leather chairs -- Rodolphus Lestrange, too. They're sipping brandy and firewhiskey at the ridiculously pretentious club where Malfoy always insisted they meet up. A whole crowd of Death Eaters mull about in tiny groups. Severus thinks it's Dolohov and Karkaroff in the background whispering by a large ornate fireplace, their backs to the camera. Avery looks fawning, his eyes fixed on Malfoy. Rodolphus gapes and stares straight out of the picture; his expression surprised and slightly cross. Malfoy blinks slowly, waiting for this interruption to pass so he can get back to what he was saying. Who took the picture? Severus can't remember; probably Regulus.
The Lestranges on their wedding day. Bellatrix looks stunning, naturally, her gown a heavy silver brocade. Straight and severe, she glimmers like the blade of a knife. When Severus holds the photograph in his hand, she brushes at her skirts and nods regally, About time you dusted this picture, Severus.
Fifty guests surround the couple: Rabastan's standing up as best man, and Narcissa, pretty and vacant, is the maid of honour. Severus is there, too, in a dress robe borrowed from Regulus Black. He's standing as straight as he can and frowning gravely; they all frown that way. It's a solemn occasion, the marriage of two great families. The Severus in the photo peers out haughtily and acts as if he doesn't recognize the man who cleans the glass.
He's not particularly fond of the wedding picture -- too formal. But it's all he has of Bellatrix. Still, it's nothing like what she was back then. What any of them were like.
What he doesn't have is a picture of Regulus.
***
On the lawn one June, right before Bellatrix and Rodolphus left Hogwarts, the sunshine was a blinding shimmer, diamond-bright off the lake. Wilkes and Rosier bobbed on broomsticks in the sky above, practicing Quidditch skills with Avery. Avery flew too back then but wasn't half so natural in the air. Regulus must have been nearby, sitting on the grass. Still a child, really, younger than Severus. They were on that little hill by the water. Bellatrix and Rodolphus on the stone bench, kissing, like they always did, arm-entwined and leg-curled, Rodolphus pressing forward and Bellatrix angling back more and more, skirt rucking up, just a bit, nothing too tawdry.
"I worship you, I adore you," Rodolphus panted over and over, in a breathy, gravelly voice. "You're devastating, you're so gorgeous."
Bellatrix just squealed and slapped at Rodolphus' roaming hands; her laughter ringing like a loud, broken bell. Severus was on the ground, the dew-wetness of the grass seeping through his robes. He leaned his back against the bench. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the where the stone had pressed a rough bumpy pattern into the skin of Bellatrix's thigh.
"Severus! Rescue me, why don't you, my dear?" Bellatrix said, "I'm being ravished."
Severus smiled, "I'm no match for Lestrange."
Bellatrix shoved his head with her free hand, "Some friend you are."
Severus laughed and fell forward with exaggerated clumsiness. Really, Lestrange he could handle -- it was Bellatrix you had to watch -- fast as a snake-bite and utterly without mercy.
He rolled down the hill a little and then lay flat on his back in the grass staring straight up. The wide blue sky stretched out, a ribbon tied around the whole future which fate had gift-wrapped just for them -- for him and his friends.
There's no photo of that day.
***
Avery used to come down to Hogwarts for every Slytherin Quidditch match and Malfoy, too, sometimes. Before the game, they'd sip brandy in Severus' study, sitting in cracked leather armchairs under the great swaths of dust-choked cobwebs that hung from the chandelier.
And Malfoy would say, "My God, Severus, do the house elves ever get down here?"
"They do in theory," Severus would reply.
"Incorrigibly lazy creatures," Avery would huff.
"How do you stand it here?" Malfoy would ask, his voice dripping with disdain.
And Severus would reply, "Terrorizing the children helps."
"Yes, I imagine."
Afterwards they'd go to Hogsmeade for supper.
When Slytherin finally won the Quidditch cup, ("After thirteen years, Severus. Thirteen years!"), Avery was beside himself. They got drunk at the Three Broomsticks and sang old school songs. Avery seized Severus' shoulders. "It's wonderful, isn't it? At last!" he cried, "God! If only Lestrange were alive to see it." Severus stared and Avery blanched because, of course, he was alive.
Not surprisingly, Avery and Malfoy don't come to Hogwarts anymore. Severus has to seek them out in spelled rooms and hidden houses. Malfoy's thinner and looks more exhausted every time Severus sees him. Things aren't as comfortable now that the Dark Lord's back.
***
"They call them Unforgivables but are they, really?" This was Regulus, the way he talked. "That's what they do. They give it a name like that and then you won't question it. You won't question the status quo."
This was after a Quidditch match; Slytherin and Gryffindor, probably. They were lounging in the Slytherin common room, Bellatrix ensconced on the sleek black leather sofa, Rodolphus laying there, his head in her lap. They were both out of school by then but had come back for a visit. Rosier and Wilkes, still damp from their showers, sat with one leaning against the other's legs. The green-blue iridescent lights refracted off the water sliding down the common room walls and flickered in Regulus' bright eager eyes. "I mean, what's really unforgivable is to sit around and do nothing while wizard-kind destroys itself."
"Oh yes, definitely." That was Avery, toadying.
"But you can't talk about that. Oh no, that'd upset the complacency of the wizard bourgeoisie, and we can't have that." Severus was distracted from Regulus' words by the absent-minded way Wilkes played with Rosier's shoelaces, the way Rosier touched, just barely, the back of Wilkes head.
"What's unforgivable is that Gryffindor wins the Quidditch cup every fucking year," Lestrange grunted. "If I were you, Wilkes, I'd crucio that incompetent seeker of yours."
They all laughed; Regulus too, but then he continued talking as if no one had interrupted. "It's not just about money, you know." When Severus managed to pull his gaze away from Rosier and Wilkes and look at Regulus, he was amazed at how young he seemed. "This new breed of wizards -- all they care about are galleons, but not us. I mean, the aristocrats are the best friends the poor have because we don't care about money."
"Right." This from Avery -- what did he know about what the aristocrats cared for, thought Severus. Rodolphus was quiet; Severus knew that he cared a great deal. Bellatrix just smiled wickedly, her heavy-lidded eyes glittering, and inhaled from a long black cigarette.
"Say you're a poor working-class wizard -- the pureblood type that really is hard-working, not just lazy or what have you." Regulus spoke quickly and breathlessly. "And a Mudblood takes your job; I mean who's going to stand up for you? The Ministry? No, the Dark Lord. He cares about the plight of pureblood wizards."
"Precisely."
"I mean, these goblins that control the banks..." Regulus, back then, followed politics obsessively. "They'll take a wizard's house, repossess it, they don't care if it's been in the family for ages."
"Disgusting."
"Not money. Power, really," said Bellatrix. "That's the Dark Lord's appeal. He has so much power and he isn't ashamed of it. That's what being a wizard is all about, it's about control."
"Bending the magical elements to the wizard's will."
"Exactly, Severus," said Bellatrix, gesturing slightly with her cigarette. "A wizard must assert his power or he accomplishes nothing. Limiting the freedom of power -- compelling powerful wizards to submit themselves to weaker people -- is abhorrent to the very nature of the craft."
"God, Bellatrix, do you have any idea how gorgeous you are when you talk like that?"
"Hush, Rodolphus, dear, I was being serious."
"For me, it's all about aesthetics," Rosier piped in with his high, sharp drawl. "The Dark Lord understands the superiority of Beauty and Art as an independent Good, separate from the bourgeois farce of morality." When Rosier spoke, it always sounded to Severus like every other noun were capitalised. The boy read too many Germans. "To love what is Beautiful is the most natural thing. It's the highest Good. It doesn't matter whether it violates some outdated ideas of Good or Evil."
"Yes," Severus agreed excitedly.
"What would Severus know about the Beautiful?" Wilkes snorted.
"I can appreciate it." Severus fumed.
"Art. Definitely that's important."
"And what would you know about art, Avery?"
"Oh true, nothing, I leave all that sort of thing to you, Evan." Avery fawned.
"Right, right. Art's important too," Regulus seemed somewhat put out that other people had opinions. "But good art, not that degenerate stuff the Muggles produce these days."
"God, enough politics," barked Lestrange. "Can't we just talk about Quidditch for once?"
***
Sirius Black is loose from Azkaban, at Hogwarts apparently, and frightening all the children. This upsets Severus somewhat, since that's his job after all. He takes to wandering the halls and following Remus Lupin in an old familiar habit. He thinks about what it will be like when he has captured Black, when he has got the Order of Merlin, First Class, and when he has, oh God, seen Black get the kiss. Then he'll put the medal there on the high shelf, in the centre of the photographs, and he'll make a concerted effort to dust. Wilkes will stare at the medal jealously, and Avery too. But Rosier will looked pleased; he was always so brilliant, never had cause to be jealous. Rodolphus will just look ill-tempered, They give those out to everybody now, I suppose, and Bellatrix will smack her husband's chest and roll her eyes. And they'll all be so proud. They'll all be so proud of him -- in their own fashion.
***
"That James Potter is nasty." This was Bellatrix; they were at her house for tea. "What did he do to you that you ended up in the infirmary?"
"Nothing," Severus mumbled and stared at the bone china teapot.
"Well that Lupin was in the infirmary, too," rumbled Rodolphus. "That you, Severus? Sorted him out, I imagine?"
"Oh, him. Lupin-" This was Avery, not being helpful. "He's always in the infirmary."
"Hush, Avery." Regulus said.
"Was it my dear cousin? Or Potter?" Bellatrix coaxed. "What'd they do?"
"Please, Bellatrix," said Regulus, "Leave it." Because he'd seen the look in Severus' eyes, he'd understood and Severus was grateful. He'd tell them. He wanted to tell them all about the werewolf, promise or no promise to Dumbledore. But really, ultimately, the whole thing was too horribly humiliating.
***
"You've broken our mother's heart," shouted Regulus at his better-looking older brother, "but I guess that would never matter to you!"
"Run off and snog Snivellus, will you?" Sirius said with mock boredom in his voice. They were all outside in the courtyard, between classes. The snow crunched under their feet.
"She cries all the time. Burned your name off the Black tapestry."
"How's any of that supposed to make him feel bad?"
"Shut up, Potter, I wasn't talking to you." Regulus hissed, "Go fuck your Mudblood bitch."
"That does it," James Potter said, striding towards them. "You're dead."
James had his wand out in a flash and sent a spell straight at Regulus. Regulus dodged it. Luck, thought Severus. Regulus pulled out his wand and returned fire, disarming James. Really lucky, thought Severus. Regulus had never been good at duelling, usually he was abysmal. Regulus pointed his wand straight at Potter's heart and Severus saw something in Regulus' eyes. It wasn't likely, but he owed Potter, so he thrust his arm out and shoved Regulus hard, "Stop!"
Regulus, thrown off balance, flailed. Sirius naturally took this opportunity to send a wand blast straight at his brother's arm.
Severus spun around, fast as a snitch, and levelled his wand at Sirius. "I don't owe you anything, Black -- not one blessed thing."
"Go on, try it!"
But James had figured out what was happening and grabbed Sirius by the arm. "Come on," James said, dragging him towards the school, with Sirius smiling that cruel smile the Blacks had all perfected some five centuries earlier.
"This doesn't count, Snivellus!" Sirius called out as he disappeared from sight.
When Severus turned back around to look at Regulus, he found him red-faced and wide-eyed. Regulus gripped his burnt arm and his look burnt straight through Severus. Why?
***
Regulus used to be in the wedding picture, standing between Severus and Avery. The whole Black family had been at the wedding -- everyone but Sirius, obviously. One day Regulus just wandered out of the photograph and he never came back.
The night of Bellatrix's wedding, just after the photo was taken, Severus and Regulus snuck out into the gardens for a cigarette. Regulus stood close to Severus and leaned against the railing of the stone porch; Severus smoked and watched the muscles tensing in Regulus' arm.
They stood in silence. The gardens had been spelled full of multicoloured fairy lights that sparkled and sputtered and filled the air with floating glitter. Regulus grabbed Severus' hand and kissed his wrist. He kissed Severus' mouth, closed-mouthed.
"We can do anything we want, you know," Regulus said breathlessly. "We're completely free, you and me and the others like us. Free to do whatever we want."
Severus couldn't help the curl of his lip, "Free to do whatever we want, as long as it doesn't upset your mother."
Regulus gawked. "Aww you're- I was being serious." But he dropped Severus' hand from his own. "You haven't seen Mother," he said nervously, twisting around to look back at the house. "You didn't just see her now? When you said that?" After a pause, he sighed, "Maybe I should go check in with her."
***
There was a photo of Regulus, standing alone, wearing Quidditch robes and holding a broom. It was taken after Regulus finally made the Slytherin team. He'd played only a year and played terribly, but he'd been so proud of his green and silver robes. "Here, Severus," he'd said, turning his head sideways. "Get my profile. We Blacks are famous for our profiles." And that had been the picture, Regulus smiling, pointing his nose high in the air. It's gone now because not long after Severus found Regulus the way he found him, Severus took the photograph outside and buried it near the lake.
***
At the Yule Ball during Severus' final year at Hogwarts, he wore a green dress robe borrowed from Regulus. Green was not his colour -- it made him look as yellow as a nicotine stain, especially next to Regulus, all nut brown skin and flashing teeth. Regulus wore green also. Green was good on Regulus, though Severus imagined red would suit him better. But Regulus would die before he ever wore red; he took the house loyalties far too seriously. Potter's Mudblood wore green to show off her eyes. And Bellatrix wore red all the time, blood red with matching lipstick and long red fingernails, "Makes me look dramatic, doesn't it, darling?" And it did; it always did. It made her look like some fierce, deadly flower.
Rosier and Wilkes had been at the ball, handsome in autumn-coloured robes. They leaned against the refreshments table, their shoulders just touching and surreptitiously passed a flask back and forth to one another.
Regulus stood near them, talking politics as usual. "Goblins are muttering about a bill of rights again. I mean really, they control the banks, what more do they want?"
"I know, really," said Avery, being obsequious as usual and doing his best to look natural in his formal robes.
Avery was that way to everyone -- Regulus, Bellatrix, Rodolphus, even Severus, sometimes. "Oh, Severus, you're a genius, really. Brightest wizard of your age. It's true, everyone says so. Even the Dark Lord, I imagine."
I imagine not, thought Severus. Still, it was nice to bask in it sometimes, Avery's fawning and Regulus' rash admiration.
"Say you know a poor wizard family -- can't make ends meet. Whose fault is that? The goblins." Regulus had a crowd of Slytherins around him, some Ravenclaws, too. "Or worse, an old witch starving in the streets -- that's the goblins. It's all this new money, mucking up the balance of things."
"Hey, I think the goblins are all right." This was James Potter approaching the table with his gang.
"Sure, the goblins deserve a bill of rights, Werewolves too, why not?" This from Sirius, who couldn't care less about politics but loved provoking his brother.
"Good God. Werewolf rights? I mean, what's next -- house-elf liberation?" gasped Avery.
"What do you think, Snivellus?" Sirius said. "What d'you think about werewolves rights -- imagine it scares you. I imagine werewolves scare you. I imagine they make you wet your pants." He smiled the cruel Black smile. "Wait, I don't imagine -- I know."
Severus stood stone still.
Lupin, worn and nervous, grabbed Sirius' arm, "You're drunk, Padfoot."
"If he is and you know it, you have to report him," Avery said. "You're a prefect, Lupin. I'm a prefect; I'll report you both."
"Shut up, Avery, everyone knows you're a prefect."
"I'll report you, too, James Potter. Some Head Boy you are, consorting with disinherited and dishonoured drunks."
"Oh, shut up, Avery." And this time Severus said it.
***
Regulus gagged. They were in his room -- Regulus' room. His bed actually, deep in the Hogwarts dungeons; the only light coming from the small, high windows that were ground level from the outside. The moonlight that seeped in through the moss-smeared glass was green and faint.
"Here. Stop," said Severus, wiggling and pulling at Regulus' hair.
"Stay still, Severus. It's all right," choked Regulus. Eventually he gave up and sat to look at Severus. His eyes were watery, his eyelashes wet. "Sorry, it's not the way I thought it would be."
***
They were at the Quidditch World Cup and Bellatrix -- through her sister, Narcissa -- had managed to get them all brilliant seats in Lucius Malfoy's box.
Afterwards, they celebrated and drank in Bellatrix's tent. Rosier and Wilkes were talking excitedly about England's new beater and Avery was talking excitedly about Malfoy. Malfoy brought out the worst in Avery. Oh God, Malfoy was best of the wizard breed, cream of the crop, top class, handsome and elegant, and on and on. Severus was less impressed. Malfoy seemed a bit pinched to Severus, and lazy, too. Used to having things handed to him, thought Severus. Like Regulus, no curiosity, no drive.
"Yes, Lucius is wonderful," Bellatrix said. "Narcissa is just hideously happy, as you can imagine." Severus couldn't imagine. Narcissa didn't look it, she looked more like she smelled something nasty just under her nose. Not like Bellatrix, all proud irreverent grins and twinkling eyes. Not like Bellatrix and Rodolphus, all twined arms and subtle touching; Rodolphus reaching for Bellatrix almost unconsciously if she were anywhere near. And they're never a hair's breadth apart it seems, thought Severus.
"She's won't have another baby, though," Bellatrix continued. "She found the whole thing just horrid. And honestly, I don't think the whole getting-pregnant-in-the-first-place part thrilled her much either. I can only assume Lucius doesn't share my dear Rodolphus' skills. Oh, don't blush so, Regulus; Rodolphus and I are married."
"But Malfoy-" Avery insisted, "He's got such breeding. Pure-blood all the way."
"Yes, good breeding, but no good --" she cast a lascivious look at Rodolphus, "at breeding."
They laughed at that but Regulus seemed concerned. "She should have more children. It's important for pure-blood wizards to have lots of children, especially if they can afford it."
Rodolphus ignored Regulus and grinned hungrily at Bellatrix.
"You know why they want wizards so poor," Regulus said, "the Mudbloods and the goblins -- so they won't have children."
"The Weasleys have lots of children," Bellatrix said cheerfully. "And they can't afford it."
"Yeah," said Regulus, "but they're thoroughly brainwashed, practically blood traitors. The thing about blood traitors is-"
There were groans all round and Rodolphus huffed, "God, Bella, you're just egging him on now."
"What?" said Regulus hotly, "You all care about these things!"
"We do, of course," said Rosier, "but right now we care about getting drunk and celebrating England's win."
"But this is more important than Quidditch," Regulus interrupted angrily.
Wilkes and Rosier stared at him as though he had just spoken some horrible heresy. "What's more important than Quidditch?" they said simultaneously.
"Preserving the wizarding families -- the old families. Having lots of pureblood children. It's important. It's the most important thing," said Regulus, his voice rising insistently. "The Dark Lord agrees."
"I don't think so," Severus said, speaking for the first time.
"What?"
"I don't think that's the most important thing," said Severus thoughtfully. "For the Dark Lord either."
"Oh, Severus thinks," teased Wilkes, good-naturedly. "What does Severus think the most important thing is?"
"Using the correct amount of belladonna when mixing one's draughts, I suspect," laughed Bellatrix.
"No," said Severus. "I think loyalty's the most important thing."
***
Avery, Regulus, Rodolphus, and Severus were rushing to meet Malfoy at the club, the black marks on their arms twitching. As soon as they turned into Knockturn Alley, they practically tripped over an ancient looking witch, propped against the filthy alley wall like a forgotten pile of dirty clothes. She stretched a revolting-looking claw up towards them, begging for coins. Regulus made a show of giving her a knut, so Avery had to give her one as well.
"See," said Regulus. "It's the uneven distribution of wealth. It's the fault of all these Mudbloods and half-bloods and their obsession with Muggle capitalism."
He stopped, expecting the others to contribute something, but Severus didn't have money to throw around like the Blacks, and Rodolphus just glared angrily and said, "Leave it, Black. She's just an old hag."
"What? No, just a poor witch is all." He ran to catch up with Rodolphus who hadn't stopped walking and craned his neck back to stare suspiciously at the old woman. "You don't think she's a hag, do you?"
Later that evening, he was still at it. Severus and Regulus had stopped for supper at the Leaky Cauldron. They sat together at a small rickety table and Regulus asked, "Severus, do you think she was a hag?"
"What does it matter?"
"Hags aren't even witches, they're subhuman."
"She was probably just a squib." Severus scratched his forearm. Damn thing still itched.
"Oh no, not a squib, Severus." Regulus' eyes were wide.
"Regulus, what does it matter?" Severus said, exasperated. "She could have been a Muggle for all you know."
"Oh God, a Muggle?" Regulus looked miserable. "Wait, she couldn't-"
"Why can't you just shut up about it already?"
"Just- I shouldn't have given her that knut, is all. Not in front of Lestrange, anyway."
***
Bellatrix has a cloak lined with werewolf fur. Her cousin had it made for her. Her cousin had been an avid hunter of werewolves in the Ukraine when it was still legal there. "She was mad for the hunt," Bellatrix sighed. "Went a little mad, though, trying to get the Ministry to legalize Muggle hunting." Bellatrix claimed she would have worn the cloak all the time, "to make a point, you understand, dear. But it's just too terribly out of style." She'd laugh. "Araminta gave one to all three of us girls. Andromeda buried hers. Can you imagine? Gave it a funeral and everything."
***
"I need firewhisky, I think." Regulus showed up at Severus' flat in the middle of the night, ashen and shaking. He spoke in halting sentences. "I was out with the others -- and Dolohov. The Prewett brothers. You know them- from school. They had us cornered. Gave us no choice." Severus handed him a shot glass filled to the brim with firewhisky.
"Why wouldn't they just listen? I tried to explain- Oh God, Severus, I used an Unforgivable. Lestrange," Regulus shuddered, "I think -- I think he enjoyed it. God, Dolohov's awful. I know the Dark Lord thinks highly of him but he's not like our group. He's- he's- I think he's a bad influence on the Lestranges. Oh God." His hands shook, splashing whiskey everywhere.
"Here." Severus grabbed the hand that held the glass and guided it to Regulus' lips, helping him drink the rest without spilling. Then, Severus let him spend the night, because, "I don't think I can face Mother right now."
"Unforgivable..." Regulus kept mumbling over and over as he fell asleep. Severus felt his forehead, which he imagined was something Regulus' mother would have done. Regulus stirred in his sleep and then calmed down a bit. Very warm, thought Severus, but these Blacks must be feverish all the time. Too hot blooded.
***
"Severus, there's someone you must meet." This was Bellatrix, hosting one of her important parties. "Karkaroff. Went to Durmstrang, you know, utterly mysterious."
"Severus, you said? Severus Snape, have I got that right?" Karkaroff said with a slight accent, his eyes shifting about as though he were taking notes in his head.
Malfoy was there, and Narcissa, too looking so different from her sister, quiet, demure, all pastel colours and grave, proud looks.
"Empty-headed really," said Wilkes. "You think it's still waters run deep, but, trust me, it's just shallow waters."
Karkaroff laughed.
"Cold fish, I imagine," said Rodolphus. "Not like my girl. She has spunk."
"Funny they're sisters and both so different," said Rosier.
"And Andromeda," Avery said, "she's a third type entirely."
An awkward silence followed.
"Yes," said Rodolphus. "Taken up with a Mudblood, I imagine you've heard."
"Oh." Of course, they'd all heard but didn't dare talk about it. Not around Rodolphus; definitely not around Bellatrix
"Called Tonks," Rodolphus continued. "Got the whole family in a right state."
"Hmm."
"Really," Rodolphus said, "even if she doesn't care about politics, the girl's a Black, she-"
"And a Slytherin." That was Regulus.
"Yes, a Black and a Slytherin; she ought to know better."
***
Because he was never punished, because Dumbledore spared him that, he's always taken the blows Dumbledore dealt him just as a penitent takes the scourge. So when Dumbledore followed Lupin's appointment with Moody's, Severus didn't blink. He didn't blink an eye, because Dumbledore was, after all, still his teacher and these things were lessons.
***
Bellatrix was weeping, wrapped in Rodolphus' arms.
"Oh, Severus," she sobbed. "It's too terrible."
Rodolphus looked confused and flustered. "Wilkes went out the way he'd wanted to," he finally managed to say.
"Oh, yes, and Rosier too," said Avery, his face pained. "Did you hear he wounded that Auror? Took a huge chunk out of him."
"Wounded?" said Bellatrix. "Killed, you mean. I heard Evan'd killed the Auror."
"No," said Avery, "it's Moody. Mad-Eye they call him. He's at St. Mungo's. He's expected to recover."
"Oh, God," Bellatrix wailed. "This isn't fair, it's just not fair!"
For Severus it was as if two bright stars had been knocked from the sky by the blind flailing of a troll.
***
Harry Potter's off to the Department of Mysteries and Severus knows what he'll find there. They've escaped from Azkaban -- Rodolphus, Bellatrix and the others. And when he first heard about it, his stomach leaped, his heart jumped. It's not fear; they don't know after all, they think he's the same as Avery -- better than Avery. Dread, maybe, he'll have to face them again, see them again soon. But there's something more. He's glad, he's actually glad, and he can't not be.
***
"You can't just leave. You can't just turn your back on the Dark Lord," said Severus, glaring angrily at Regulus.
"It's not the way I thought it would be," said Regulus, quietly.
"It's not about you and your feelings," Severus yelled. "You can't afford to be this selfish."
"Selfish? Severus!"
"You Blacks, you're all so spoiled," Severus said. "You rush in but you've not got the stomach to finish the job. You're worse than your brother."
"How dare you," Regulus said. Severus couldn't stand looking at him, he looked so young and stupid.
"Oh, Regulus," said Severus, his voice suddenly pleading. "Don't you know what they'll do to you?"
"Who?"
"The others."
"What do you mean? They won't do anything. Severus. You're talking about our friends."
***
When Severus sees Avery these days, he finds the man's gone completely colourless and looks twice his age. When Avery looks at Severus, he doesn't say, "I had no idea how horrible it'd be." But he knows Severus can read it in his face no matter how hard he tries to hide it. The smug mask Avery always wore (the mask they all wore) is cracked. He's been robbed of the disguise and refuge of his pride, thinks Severus, and that's the worse side-effect. So Severus pretends not to notice and gossips about Quidditch. Afterwards, he leaves Avery vials of Dreamless Sleep to kill the nightmares.
***
Maybe because he was younger. Maybe because he was a Black and that made him rash and stupid in many ways. Whatever the reason, Regulus liked Severus. He admired him, looked up to him. Not in the fawning, fake, Avery way, but really thought Severus was clever and cunning and liked him for it in that reckless Black way that allowed no dampening of enthusiasm and no deviation in loyalty. And, despite why he died, Regulus was always loyal to his friends. Regulus spent all his free time with Severus. They studied together in school, Severus tutoring Regulus in potions and history. They spent the holidays together. Regulus loaned him clothes and galleons. He gave Severus presents, cigarette lighters decorated with charmed silver serpents that hissed softly and contorted themselves into elaborate tangled knots, Muggle cigarettes, firewhisky; he'd have given him anything, he tried anyway. Regulus liked Severus, that's all.
He found Regulus. Of course, he found Regulus. Avada Kedavra. It's not painful, it's just final. He doesn't think it's painful; he hopes it isn't. Regulus didn't look hurt, he looked thoughtful, eyes wide open, his hair a dark brown halo. He was never as good-looking as the other Blacks but still very handsome, and he was handsome lying there, a residue of green mist curling everywhere around him as if it loved the feel of his skin. Green was always Regulus' colour.
Severus closed Regulus' eyes. That's all he had time for. There were things he had to do: a meeting to arrange with Dumbledore, and it had to be arranged carefully- he'd not end up like Regulus. But really, what else was there to do? If he'd had time, what would he have done, cut off a lock of hair? Steal a ring?
***
"The Dark Lord's disappeared. He's just gone. Everyone's acting like he's dead!" Bellatrix was hysterical, her eyes quite mad. "Oh, Severus, it's too awful, and Karkaroff is giving us all up. We're doomed!"
They were at the Lestranges', clustered together. Rodolphus looked angry and terrified at the same time. Avery was there, silent for once, not "yes, yes, yes"-ing everyone. His mind's churning, thought Severus. He's right behind Karkaroff, but then Snape was in no position to judge; he was way ahead of them both.
"It won't end like this," Rodolphus said darkly. "It can't."
***
He'd just started teaching at Hogwarts. Hadn't even unpacked yet, when they showed up.
"Why'd you come here?" Severus asked. "This is the stupidest place you could have come."
"Where the hell were we supposed to go?" said Rodolphus.
They were there all evening. Bellatrix silent, sitting in a corner; her hands pale, her face ecstatic. Rodolphus paced.
"We didn't even use it on him at first; we made him watch his fat wife suffer." This was Rodolphus, his voice like razor blades scraping the stone walls of Severus' rooms.
"God, you should have seen his face. Bellatrix was brilliant. We'd have broken them, too, if only we could have got our hands on that brat of theirs. Can you imagine? That'd have got them talking. His bitch of a mother, see, she took-"
"Where are you going?"
Severus retched into his tiny sink. He ran the tap and rubbed cold water on his face. He wiped at his wet eyes with the back of his hand.
"Snape!" shouted Rodolphus through the door. "What the hell's the matter with you?"
"Bad fish," Severus called back, his voice unsteady. "The food here at Hogwarts..."
"Indeed. Look, Severus, we're in a pickle here."
Severus pressed his long fingers to his temples. He didn't open the door. "Yes, I- I'll help you. I know a place you can go. You can go there and you'll be safe."
Later, after everything, when Severus finally got around to unpacking his belongings, he noticed in the wedding photo a small black gap between himself and Avery -- Regulus had wandered out of the picture. He remembered the other photograph; Regulus in his Quidditch robes. Severus dug it out of the box without even looking at it. He wrapped it in an old grey handkerchief, and then went to bury it by the water.
***
Rodolphus, he never sees, and Bellatrix now is squeezed dry, sour and dull. She lives only for Voldemort when she used to live for Rodolphus, duelling, throwing parties.
"Do you remember that time by the lake, you asked me to rescue you?" says Severus when he sees her fading into a faded flowered chair.
"I'm sure I don't." Bellatrix closes her heavy-lidded eyes. Streaks of sunlight surround her. Severus thinks they'll bleach her out. Make her disappear.
"I- "
"You have a message, don't you? Something from the Dark Lord?" She opens her eyes to stare at him. Her tired face looks hopeful.
But he has nothing for her. All he can give her are nutritional potions to help her put on weight, but he knows she'll throw them out. She was always so careful about her figure.
When he turns to leave and she grabs his sleeve, she smiles at him; her smile a grimace of pain. "Don't be so glum, Severus, darling. Everything's going to be wonderful again. Now he's back. Everything's going to be just the way it was."
Characters/Pairing: Snape, Regulus Black, Lestranges, Avery, Wilkes, Rosier, etc. A small bit of Snape/Regulus Black but really this is mostly Genfic.
Rating: R, for bad language and adult situations.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Warnings: Angst.
Summary: Snape had friends, he still has them.
Thanks to siyamau, sor_bet, and floocrookshanks for the betas. Thanks! They're all super and my prose needs all the help it can get.
"Snape knew more curses when he arrived at school than half the kids in the seventh year and he was part of a gang of Slytherins who nearly all turned out to be Death Eaters"
There are dozens of shelves in Severus Snape's rooms, as well as bookcases, tables, and cabinets; lots of things for holding other things.
Most of the shelves are crowded with jars of preserved ingredients suspended like cream clots in lemon juice. Some shelves have books, and then there are stacks of old parchments tied with string and junk mail and old empty sacks and wrappers and all the useless ephemera that accumulates in life. Just one shelf -- the highest shelf -- has photographs. Small ones in scarred wooden frames with grimy glass, because who has time to dust? When he wants to look at them, he has to pull them down and rub them with the hem of his robe.
These are the photographs: Wilkes with an arm flung around Rosier. They're both outside, still at Hogwarts, tiny autumn leaves caught in their hair. They both look smug like they always did, and young. Wilkes smirks and makes kissy faces when Severus wipes the glass. Rosier just smiles slightly, the way he used to whenever Severus made jokes. Their frame is black.
There's Avery and Malfoy in large leather chairs -- Rodolphus Lestrange, too. They're sipping brandy and firewhiskey at the ridiculously pretentious club where Malfoy always insisted they meet up. A whole crowd of Death Eaters mull about in tiny groups. Severus thinks it's Dolohov and Karkaroff in the background whispering by a large ornate fireplace, their backs to the camera. Avery looks fawning, his eyes fixed on Malfoy. Rodolphus gapes and stares straight out of the picture; his expression surprised and slightly cross. Malfoy blinks slowly, waiting for this interruption to pass so he can get back to what he was saying. Who took the picture? Severus can't remember; probably Regulus.
The Lestranges on their wedding day. Bellatrix looks stunning, naturally, her gown a heavy silver brocade. Straight and severe, she glimmers like the blade of a knife. When Severus holds the photograph in his hand, she brushes at her skirts and nods regally, About time you dusted this picture, Severus.
Fifty guests surround the couple: Rabastan's standing up as best man, and Narcissa, pretty and vacant, is the maid of honour. Severus is there, too, in a dress robe borrowed from Regulus Black. He's standing as straight as he can and frowning gravely; they all frown that way. It's a solemn occasion, the marriage of two great families. The Severus in the photo peers out haughtily and acts as if he doesn't recognize the man who cleans the glass.
He's not particularly fond of the wedding picture -- too formal. But it's all he has of Bellatrix. Still, it's nothing like what she was back then. What any of them were like.
What he doesn't have is a picture of Regulus.
***
On the lawn one June, right before Bellatrix and Rodolphus left Hogwarts, the sunshine was a blinding shimmer, diamond-bright off the lake. Wilkes and Rosier bobbed on broomsticks in the sky above, practicing Quidditch skills with Avery. Avery flew too back then but wasn't half so natural in the air. Regulus must have been nearby, sitting on the grass. Still a child, really, younger than Severus. They were on that little hill by the water. Bellatrix and Rodolphus on the stone bench, kissing, like they always did, arm-entwined and leg-curled, Rodolphus pressing forward and Bellatrix angling back more and more, skirt rucking up, just a bit, nothing too tawdry.
"I worship you, I adore you," Rodolphus panted over and over, in a breathy, gravelly voice. "You're devastating, you're so gorgeous."
Bellatrix just squealed and slapped at Rodolphus' roaming hands; her laughter ringing like a loud, broken bell. Severus was on the ground, the dew-wetness of the grass seeping through his robes. He leaned his back against the bench. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the where the stone had pressed a rough bumpy pattern into the skin of Bellatrix's thigh.
"Severus! Rescue me, why don't you, my dear?" Bellatrix said, "I'm being ravished."
Severus smiled, "I'm no match for Lestrange."
Bellatrix shoved his head with her free hand, "Some friend you are."
Severus laughed and fell forward with exaggerated clumsiness. Really, Lestrange he could handle -- it was Bellatrix you had to watch -- fast as a snake-bite and utterly without mercy.
He rolled down the hill a little and then lay flat on his back in the grass staring straight up. The wide blue sky stretched out, a ribbon tied around the whole future which fate had gift-wrapped just for them -- for him and his friends.
There's no photo of that day.
***
Avery used to come down to Hogwarts for every Slytherin Quidditch match and Malfoy, too, sometimes. Before the game, they'd sip brandy in Severus' study, sitting in cracked leather armchairs under the great swaths of dust-choked cobwebs that hung from the chandelier.
And Malfoy would say, "My God, Severus, do the house elves ever get down here?"
"They do in theory," Severus would reply.
"Incorrigibly lazy creatures," Avery would huff.
"How do you stand it here?" Malfoy would ask, his voice dripping with disdain.
And Severus would reply, "Terrorizing the children helps."
"Yes, I imagine."
Afterwards they'd go to Hogsmeade for supper.
When Slytherin finally won the Quidditch cup, ("After thirteen years, Severus. Thirteen years!"), Avery was beside himself. They got drunk at the Three Broomsticks and sang old school songs. Avery seized Severus' shoulders. "It's wonderful, isn't it? At last!" he cried, "God! If only Lestrange were alive to see it." Severus stared and Avery blanched because, of course, he was alive.
Not surprisingly, Avery and Malfoy don't come to Hogwarts anymore. Severus has to seek them out in spelled rooms and hidden houses. Malfoy's thinner and looks more exhausted every time Severus sees him. Things aren't as comfortable now that the Dark Lord's back.
***
"They call them Unforgivables but are they, really?" This was Regulus, the way he talked. "That's what they do. They give it a name like that and then you won't question it. You won't question the status quo."
This was after a Quidditch match; Slytherin and Gryffindor, probably. They were lounging in the Slytherin common room, Bellatrix ensconced on the sleek black leather sofa, Rodolphus laying there, his head in her lap. They were both out of school by then but had come back for a visit. Rosier and Wilkes, still damp from their showers, sat with one leaning against the other's legs. The green-blue iridescent lights refracted off the water sliding down the common room walls and flickered in Regulus' bright eager eyes. "I mean, what's really unforgivable is to sit around and do nothing while wizard-kind destroys itself."
"Oh yes, definitely." That was Avery, toadying.
"But you can't talk about that. Oh no, that'd upset the complacency of the wizard bourgeoisie, and we can't have that." Severus was distracted from Regulus' words by the absent-minded way Wilkes played with Rosier's shoelaces, the way Rosier touched, just barely, the back of Wilkes head.
"What's unforgivable is that Gryffindor wins the Quidditch cup every fucking year," Lestrange grunted. "If I were you, Wilkes, I'd crucio that incompetent seeker of yours."
They all laughed; Regulus too, but then he continued talking as if no one had interrupted. "It's not just about money, you know." When Severus managed to pull his gaze away from Rosier and Wilkes and look at Regulus, he was amazed at how young he seemed. "This new breed of wizards -- all they care about are galleons, but not us. I mean, the aristocrats are the best friends the poor have because we don't care about money."
"Right." This from Avery -- what did he know about what the aristocrats cared for, thought Severus. Rodolphus was quiet; Severus knew that he cared a great deal. Bellatrix just smiled wickedly, her heavy-lidded eyes glittering, and inhaled from a long black cigarette.
"Say you're a poor working-class wizard -- the pureblood type that really is hard-working, not just lazy or what have you." Regulus spoke quickly and breathlessly. "And a Mudblood takes your job; I mean who's going to stand up for you? The Ministry? No, the Dark Lord. He cares about the plight of pureblood wizards."
"Precisely."
"I mean, these goblins that control the banks..." Regulus, back then, followed politics obsessively. "They'll take a wizard's house, repossess it, they don't care if it's been in the family for ages."
"Disgusting."
"Not money. Power, really," said Bellatrix. "That's the Dark Lord's appeal. He has so much power and he isn't ashamed of it. That's what being a wizard is all about, it's about control."
"Bending the magical elements to the wizard's will."
"Exactly, Severus," said Bellatrix, gesturing slightly with her cigarette. "A wizard must assert his power or he accomplishes nothing. Limiting the freedom of power -- compelling powerful wizards to submit themselves to weaker people -- is abhorrent to the very nature of the craft."
"God, Bellatrix, do you have any idea how gorgeous you are when you talk like that?"
"Hush, Rodolphus, dear, I was being serious."
"For me, it's all about aesthetics," Rosier piped in with his high, sharp drawl. "The Dark Lord understands the superiority of Beauty and Art as an independent Good, separate from the bourgeois farce of morality." When Rosier spoke, it always sounded to Severus like every other noun were capitalised. The boy read too many Germans. "To love what is Beautiful is the most natural thing. It's the highest Good. It doesn't matter whether it violates some outdated ideas of Good or Evil."
"Yes," Severus agreed excitedly.
"What would Severus know about the Beautiful?" Wilkes snorted.
"I can appreciate it." Severus fumed.
"Art. Definitely that's important."
"And what would you know about art, Avery?"
"Oh true, nothing, I leave all that sort of thing to you, Evan." Avery fawned.
"Right, right. Art's important too," Regulus seemed somewhat put out that other people had opinions. "But good art, not that degenerate stuff the Muggles produce these days."
"God, enough politics," barked Lestrange. "Can't we just talk about Quidditch for once?"
***
Sirius Black is loose from Azkaban, at Hogwarts apparently, and frightening all the children. This upsets Severus somewhat, since that's his job after all. He takes to wandering the halls and following Remus Lupin in an old familiar habit. He thinks about what it will be like when he has captured Black, when he has got the Order of Merlin, First Class, and when he has, oh God, seen Black get the kiss. Then he'll put the medal there on the high shelf, in the centre of the photographs, and he'll make a concerted effort to dust. Wilkes will stare at the medal jealously, and Avery too. But Rosier will looked pleased; he was always so brilliant, never had cause to be jealous. Rodolphus will just look ill-tempered, They give those out to everybody now, I suppose, and Bellatrix will smack her husband's chest and roll her eyes. And they'll all be so proud. They'll all be so proud of him -- in their own fashion.
***
"That James Potter is nasty." This was Bellatrix; they were at her house for tea. "What did he do to you that you ended up in the infirmary?"
"Nothing," Severus mumbled and stared at the bone china teapot.
"Well that Lupin was in the infirmary, too," rumbled Rodolphus. "That you, Severus? Sorted him out, I imagine?"
"Oh, him. Lupin-" This was Avery, not being helpful. "He's always in the infirmary."
"Hush, Avery." Regulus said.
"Was it my dear cousin? Or Potter?" Bellatrix coaxed. "What'd they do?"
"Please, Bellatrix," said Regulus, "Leave it." Because he'd seen the look in Severus' eyes, he'd understood and Severus was grateful. He'd tell them. He wanted to tell them all about the werewolf, promise or no promise to Dumbledore. But really, ultimately, the whole thing was too horribly humiliating.
***
"You've broken our mother's heart," shouted Regulus at his better-looking older brother, "but I guess that would never matter to you!"
"Run off and snog Snivellus, will you?" Sirius said with mock boredom in his voice. They were all outside in the courtyard, between classes. The snow crunched under their feet.
"She cries all the time. Burned your name off the Black tapestry."
"How's any of that supposed to make him feel bad?"
"Shut up, Potter, I wasn't talking to you." Regulus hissed, "Go fuck your Mudblood bitch."
"That does it," James Potter said, striding towards them. "You're dead."
James had his wand out in a flash and sent a spell straight at Regulus. Regulus dodged it. Luck, thought Severus. Regulus pulled out his wand and returned fire, disarming James. Really lucky, thought Severus. Regulus had never been good at duelling, usually he was abysmal. Regulus pointed his wand straight at Potter's heart and Severus saw something in Regulus' eyes. It wasn't likely, but he owed Potter, so he thrust his arm out and shoved Regulus hard, "Stop!"
Regulus, thrown off balance, flailed. Sirius naturally took this opportunity to send a wand blast straight at his brother's arm.
Severus spun around, fast as a snitch, and levelled his wand at Sirius. "I don't owe you anything, Black -- not one blessed thing."
"Go on, try it!"
But James had figured out what was happening and grabbed Sirius by the arm. "Come on," James said, dragging him towards the school, with Sirius smiling that cruel smile the Blacks had all perfected some five centuries earlier.
"This doesn't count, Snivellus!" Sirius called out as he disappeared from sight.
When Severus turned back around to look at Regulus, he found him red-faced and wide-eyed. Regulus gripped his burnt arm and his look burnt straight through Severus. Why?
***
Regulus used to be in the wedding picture, standing between Severus and Avery. The whole Black family had been at the wedding -- everyone but Sirius, obviously. One day Regulus just wandered out of the photograph and he never came back.
The night of Bellatrix's wedding, just after the photo was taken, Severus and Regulus snuck out into the gardens for a cigarette. Regulus stood close to Severus and leaned against the railing of the stone porch; Severus smoked and watched the muscles tensing in Regulus' arm.
They stood in silence. The gardens had been spelled full of multicoloured fairy lights that sparkled and sputtered and filled the air with floating glitter. Regulus grabbed Severus' hand and kissed his wrist. He kissed Severus' mouth, closed-mouthed.
"We can do anything we want, you know," Regulus said breathlessly. "We're completely free, you and me and the others like us. Free to do whatever we want."
Severus couldn't help the curl of his lip, "Free to do whatever we want, as long as it doesn't upset your mother."
Regulus gawked. "Aww you're- I was being serious." But he dropped Severus' hand from his own. "You haven't seen Mother," he said nervously, twisting around to look back at the house. "You didn't just see her now? When you said that?" After a pause, he sighed, "Maybe I should go check in with her."
***
There was a photo of Regulus, standing alone, wearing Quidditch robes and holding a broom. It was taken after Regulus finally made the Slytherin team. He'd played only a year and played terribly, but he'd been so proud of his green and silver robes. "Here, Severus," he'd said, turning his head sideways. "Get my profile. We Blacks are famous for our profiles." And that had been the picture, Regulus smiling, pointing his nose high in the air. It's gone now because not long after Severus found Regulus the way he found him, Severus took the photograph outside and buried it near the lake.
***
At the Yule Ball during Severus' final year at Hogwarts, he wore a green dress robe borrowed from Regulus. Green was not his colour -- it made him look as yellow as a nicotine stain, especially next to Regulus, all nut brown skin and flashing teeth. Regulus wore green also. Green was good on Regulus, though Severus imagined red would suit him better. But Regulus would die before he ever wore red; he took the house loyalties far too seriously. Potter's Mudblood wore green to show off her eyes. And Bellatrix wore red all the time, blood red with matching lipstick and long red fingernails, "Makes me look dramatic, doesn't it, darling?" And it did; it always did. It made her look like some fierce, deadly flower.
Rosier and Wilkes had been at the ball, handsome in autumn-coloured robes. They leaned against the refreshments table, their shoulders just touching and surreptitiously passed a flask back and forth to one another.
Regulus stood near them, talking politics as usual. "Goblins are muttering about a bill of rights again. I mean really, they control the banks, what more do they want?"
"I know, really," said Avery, being obsequious as usual and doing his best to look natural in his formal robes.
Avery was that way to everyone -- Regulus, Bellatrix, Rodolphus, even Severus, sometimes. "Oh, Severus, you're a genius, really. Brightest wizard of your age. It's true, everyone says so. Even the Dark Lord, I imagine."
I imagine not, thought Severus. Still, it was nice to bask in it sometimes, Avery's fawning and Regulus' rash admiration.
"Say you know a poor wizard family -- can't make ends meet. Whose fault is that? The goblins." Regulus had a crowd of Slytherins around him, some Ravenclaws, too. "Or worse, an old witch starving in the streets -- that's the goblins. It's all this new money, mucking up the balance of things."
"Hey, I think the goblins are all right." This was James Potter approaching the table with his gang.
"Sure, the goblins deserve a bill of rights, Werewolves too, why not?" This from Sirius, who couldn't care less about politics but loved provoking his brother.
"Good God. Werewolf rights? I mean, what's next -- house-elf liberation?" gasped Avery.
"What do you think, Snivellus?" Sirius said. "What d'you think about werewolves rights -- imagine it scares you. I imagine werewolves scare you. I imagine they make you wet your pants." He smiled the cruel Black smile. "Wait, I don't imagine -- I know."
Severus stood stone still.
Lupin, worn and nervous, grabbed Sirius' arm, "You're drunk, Padfoot."
"If he is and you know it, you have to report him," Avery said. "You're a prefect, Lupin. I'm a prefect; I'll report you both."
"Shut up, Avery, everyone knows you're a prefect."
"I'll report you, too, James Potter. Some Head Boy you are, consorting with disinherited and dishonoured drunks."
"Oh, shut up, Avery." And this time Severus said it.
***
Regulus gagged. They were in his room -- Regulus' room. His bed actually, deep in the Hogwarts dungeons; the only light coming from the small, high windows that were ground level from the outside. The moonlight that seeped in through the moss-smeared glass was green and faint.
"Here. Stop," said Severus, wiggling and pulling at Regulus' hair.
"Stay still, Severus. It's all right," choked Regulus. Eventually he gave up and sat to look at Severus. His eyes were watery, his eyelashes wet. "Sorry, it's not the way I thought it would be."
***
They were at the Quidditch World Cup and Bellatrix -- through her sister, Narcissa -- had managed to get them all brilliant seats in Lucius Malfoy's box.
Afterwards, they celebrated and drank in Bellatrix's tent. Rosier and Wilkes were talking excitedly about England's new beater and Avery was talking excitedly about Malfoy. Malfoy brought out the worst in Avery. Oh God, Malfoy was best of the wizard breed, cream of the crop, top class, handsome and elegant, and on and on. Severus was less impressed. Malfoy seemed a bit pinched to Severus, and lazy, too. Used to having things handed to him, thought Severus. Like Regulus, no curiosity, no drive.
"Yes, Lucius is wonderful," Bellatrix said. "Narcissa is just hideously happy, as you can imagine." Severus couldn't imagine. Narcissa didn't look it, she looked more like she smelled something nasty just under her nose. Not like Bellatrix, all proud irreverent grins and twinkling eyes. Not like Bellatrix and Rodolphus, all twined arms and subtle touching; Rodolphus reaching for Bellatrix almost unconsciously if she were anywhere near. And they're never a hair's breadth apart it seems, thought Severus.
"She's won't have another baby, though," Bellatrix continued. "She found the whole thing just horrid. And honestly, I don't think the whole getting-pregnant-in-the-first-place part thrilled her much either. I can only assume Lucius doesn't share my dear Rodolphus' skills. Oh, don't blush so, Regulus; Rodolphus and I are married."
"But Malfoy-" Avery insisted, "He's got such breeding. Pure-blood all the way."
"Yes, good breeding, but no good --" she cast a lascivious look at Rodolphus, "at breeding."
They laughed at that but Regulus seemed concerned. "She should have more children. It's important for pure-blood wizards to have lots of children, especially if they can afford it."
Rodolphus ignored Regulus and grinned hungrily at Bellatrix.
"You know why they want wizards so poor," Regulus said, "the Mudbloods and the goblins -- so they won't have children."
"The Weasleys have lots of children," Bellatrix said cheerfully. "And they can't afford it."
"Yeah," said Regulus, "but they're thoroughly brainwashed, practically blood traitors. The thing about blood traitors is-"
There were groans all round and Rodolphus huffed, "God, Bella, you're just egging him on now."
"What?" said Regulus hotly, "You all care about these things!"
"We do, of course," said Rosier, "but right now we care about getting drunk and celebrating England's win."
"But this is more important than Quidditch," Regulus interrupted angrily.
Wilkes and Rosier stared at him as though he had just spoken some horrible heresy. "What's more important than Quidditch?" they said simultaneously.
"Preserving the wizarding families -- the old families. Having lots of pureblood children. It's important. It's the most important thing," said Regulus, his voice rising insistently. "The Dark Lord agrees."
"I don't think so," Severus said, speaking for the first time.
"What?"
"I don't think that's the most important thing," said Severus thoughtfully. "For the Dark Lord either."
"Oh, Severus thinks," teased Wilkes, good-naturedly. "What does Severus think the most important thing is?"
"Using the correct amount of belladonna when mixing one's draughts, I suspect," laughed Bellatrix.
"No," said Severus. "I think loyalty's the most important thing."
***
Avery, Regulus, Rodolphus, and Severus were rushing to meet Malfoy at the club, the black marks on their arms twitching. As soon as they turned into Knockturn Alley, they practically tripped over an ancient looking witch, propped against the filthy alley wall like a forgotten pile of dirty clothes. She stretched a revolting-looking claw up towards them, begging for coins. Regulus made a show of giving her a knut, so Avery had to give her one as well.
"See," said Regulus. "It's the uneven distribution of wealth. It's the fault of all these Mudbloods and half-bloods and their obsession with Muggle capitalism."
He stopped, expecting the others to contribute something, but Severus didn't have money to throw around like the Blacks, and Rodolphus just glared angrily and said, "Leave it, Black. She's just an old hag."
"What? No, just a poor witch is all." He ran to catch up with Rodolphus who hadn't stopped walking and craned his neck back to stare suspiciously at the old woman. "You don't think she's a hag, do you?"
Later that evening, he was still at it. Severus and Regulus had stopped for supper at the Leaky Cauldron. They sat together at a small rickety table and Regulus asked, "Severus, do you think she was a hag?"
"What does it matter?"
"Hags aren't even witches, they're subhuman."
"She was probably just a squib." Severus scratched his forearm. Damn thing still itched.
"Oh no, not a squib, Severus." Regulus' eyes were wide.
"Regulus, what does it matter?" Severus said, exasperated. "She could have been a Muggle for all you know."
"Oh God, a Muggle?" Regulus looked miserable. "Wait, she couldn't-"
"Why can't you just shut up about it already?"
"Just- I shouldn't have given her that knut, is all. Not in front of Lestrange, anyway."
***
Bellatrix has a cloak lined with werewolf fur. Her cousin had it made for her. Her cousin had been an avid hunter of werewolves in the Ukraine when it was still legal there. "She was mad for the hunt," Bellatrix sighed. "Went a little mad, though, trying to get the Ministry to legalize Muggle hunting." Bellatrix claimed she would have worn the cloak all the time, "to make a point, you understand, dear. But it's just too terribly out of style." She'd laugh. "Araminta gave one to all three of us girls. Andromeda buried hers. Can you imagine? Gave it a funeral and everything."
***
"I need firewhisky, I think." Regulus showed up at Severus' flat in the middle of the night, ashen and shaking. He spoke in halting sentences. "I was out with the others -- and Dolohov. The Prewett brothers. You know them- from school. They had us cornered. Gave us no choice." Severus handed him a shot glass filled to the brim with firewhisky.
"Why wouldn't they just listen? I tried to explain- Oh God, Severus, I used an Unforgivable. Lestrange," Regulus shuddered, "I think -- I think he enjoyed it. God, Dolohov's awful. I know the Dark Lord thinks highly of him but he's not like our group. He's- he's- I think he's a bad influence on the Lestranges. Oh God." His hands shook, splashing whiskey everywhere.
"Here." Severus grabbed the hand that held the glass and guided it to Regulus' lips, helping him drink the rest without spilling. Then, Severus let him spend the night, because, "I don't think I can face Mother right now."
"Unforgivable..." Regulus kept mumbling over and over as he fell asleep. Severus felt his forehead, which he imagined was something Regulus' mother would have done. Regulus stirred in his sleep and then calmed down a bit. Very warm, thought Severus, but these Blacks must be feverish all the time. Too hot blooded.
***
"Severus, there's someone you must meet." This was Bellatrix, hosting one of her important parties. "Karkaroff. Went to Durmstrang, you know, utterly mysterious."
"Severus, you said? Severus Snape, have I got that right?" Karkaroff said with a slight accent, his eyes shifting about as though he were taking notes in his head.
Malfoy was there, and Narcissa, too looking so different from her sister, quiet, demure, all pastel colours and grave, proud looks.
"Empty-headed really," said Wilkes. "You think it's still waters run deep, but, trust me, it's just shallow waters."
Karkaroff laughed.
"Cold fish, I imagine," said Rodolphus. "Not like my girl. She has spunk."
"Funny they're sisters and both so different," said Rosier.
"And Andromeda," Avery said, "she's a third type entirely."
An awkward silence followed.
"Yes," said Rodolphus. "Taken up with a Mudblood, I imagine you've heard."
"Oh." Of course, they'd all heard but didn't dare talk about it. Not around Rodolphus; definitely not around Bellatrix
"Called Tonks," Rodolphus continued. "Got the whole family in a right state."
"Hmm."
"Really," Rodolphus said, "even if she doesn't care about politics, the girl's a Black, she-"
"And a Slytherin." That was Regulus.
"Yes, a Black and a Slytherin; she ought to know better."
***
Because he was never punished, because Dumbledore spared him that, he's always taken the blows Dumbledore dealt him just as a penitent takes the scourge. So when Dumbledore followed Lupin's appointment with Moody's, Severus didn't blink. He didn't blink an eye, because Dumbledore was, after all, still his teacher and these things were lessons.
***
Bellatrix was weeping, wrapped in Rodolphus' arms.
"Oh, Severus," she sobbed. "It's too terrible."
Rodolphus looked confused and flustered. "Wilkes went out the way he'd wanted to," he finally managed to say.
"Oh, yes, and Rosier too," said Avery, his face pained. "Did you hear he wounded that Auror? Took a huge chunk out of him."
"Wounded?" said Bellatrix. "Killed, you mean. I heard Evan'd killed the Auror."
"No," said Avery, "it's Moody. Mad-Eye they call him. He's at St. Mungo's. He's expected to recover."
"Oh, God," Bellatrix wailed. "This isn't fair, it's just not fair!"
For Severus it was as if two bright stars had been knocked from the sky by the blind flailing of a troll.
***
Harry Potter's off to the Department of Mysteries and Severus knows what he'll find there. They've escaped from Azkaban -- Rodolphus, Bellatrix and the others. And when he first heard about it, his stomach leaped, his heart jumped. It's not fear; they don't know after all, they think he's the same as Avery -- better than Avery. Dread, maybe, he'll have to face them again, see them again soon. But there's something more. He's glad, he's actually glad, and he can't not be.
***
"You can't just leave. You can't just turn your back on the Dark Lord," said Severus, glaring angrily at Regulus.
"It's not the way I thought it would be," said Regulus, quietly.
"It's not about you and your feelings," Severus yelled. "You can't afford to be this selfish."
"Selfish? Severus!"
"You Blacks, you're all so spoiled," Severus said. "You rush in but you've not got the stomach to finish the job. You're worse than your brother."
"How dare you," Regulus said. Severus couldn't stand looking at him, he looked so young and stupid.
"Oh, Regulus," said Severus, his voice suddenly pleading. "Don't you know what they'll do to you?"
"Who?"
"The others."
"What do you mean? They won't do anything. Severus. You're talking about our friends."
***
When Severus sees Avery these days, he finds the man's gone completely colourless and looks twice his age. When Avery looks at Severus, he doesn't say, "I had no idea how horrible it'd be." But he knows Severus can read it in his face no matter how hard he tries to hide it. The smug mask Avery always wore (the mask they all wore) is cracked. He's been robbed of the disguise and refuge of his pride, thinks Severus, and that's the worse side-effect. So Severus pretends not to notice and gossips about Quidditch. Afterwards, he leaves Avery vials of Dreamless Sleep to kill the nightmares.
***
Maybe because he was younger. Maybe because he was a Black and that made him rash and stupid in many ways. Whatever the reason, Regulus liked Severus. He admired him, looked up to him. Not in the fawning, fake, Avery way, but really thought Severus was clever and cunning and liked him for it in that reckless Black way that allowed no dampening of enthusiasm and no deviation in loyalty. And, despite why he died, Regulus was always loyal to his friends. Regulus spent all his free time with Severus. They studied together in school, Severus tutoring Regulus in potions and history. They spent the holidays together. Regulus loaned him clothes and galleons. He gave Severus presents, cigarette lighters decorated with charmed silver serpents that hissed softly and contorted themselves into elaborate tangled knots, Muggle cigarettes, firewhisky; he'd have given him anything, he tried anyway. Regulus liked Severus, that's all.
He found Regulus. Of course, he found Regulus. Avada Kedavra. It's not painful, it's just final. He doesn't think it's painful; he hopes it isn't. Regulus didn't look hurt, he looked thoughtful, eyes wide open, his hair a dark brown halo. He was never as good-looking as the other Blacks but still very handsome, and he was handsome lying there, a residue of green mist curling everywhere around him as if it loved the feel of his skin. Green was always Regulus' colour.
Severus closed Regulus' eyes. That's all he had time for. There were things he had to do: a meeting to arrange with Dumbledore, and it had to be arranged carefully- he'd not end up like Regulus. But really, what else was there to do? If he'd had time, what would he have done, cut off a lock of hair? Steal a ring?
***
"The Dark Lord's disappeared. He's just gone. Everyone's acting like he's dead!" Bellatrix was hysterical, her eyes quite mad. "Oh, Severus, it's too awful, and Karkaroff is giving us all up. We're doomed!"
They were at the Lestranges', clustered together. Rodolphus looked angry and terrified at the same time. Avery was there, silent for once, not "yes, yes, yes"-ing everyone. His mind's churning, thought Severus. He's right behind Karkaroff, but then Snape was in no position to judge; he was way ahead of them both.
"It won't end like this," Rodolphus said darkly. "It can't."
***
He'd just started teaching at Hogwarts. Hadn't even unpacked yet, when they showed up.
"Why'd you come here?" Severus asked. "This is the stupidest place you could have come."
"Where the hell were we supposed to go?" said Rodolphus.
They were there all evening. Bellatrix silent, sitting in a corner; her hands pale, her face ecstatic. Rodolphus paced.
"We didn't even use it on him at first; we made him watch his fat wife suffer." This was Rodolphus, his voice like razor blades scraping the stone walls of Severus' rooms.
"God, you should have seen his face. Bellatrix was brilliant. We'd have broken them, too, if only we could have got our hands on that brat of theirs. Can you imagine? That'd have got them talking. His bitch of a mother, see, she took-"
"Where are you going?"
Severus retched into his tiny sink. He ran the tap and rubbed cold water on his face. He wiped at his wet eyes with the back of his hand.
"Snape!" shouted Rodolphus through the door. "What the hell's the matter with you?"
"Bad fish," Severus called back, his voice unsteady. "The food here at Hogwarts..."
"Indeed. Look, Severus, we're in a pickle here."
Severus pressed his long fingers to his temples. He didn't open the door. "Yes, I- I'll help you. I know a place you can go. You can go there and you'll be safe."
Later, after everything, when Severus finally got around to unpacking his belongings, he noticed in the wedding photo a small black gap between himself and Avery -- Regulus had wandered out of the picture. He remembered the other photograph; Regulus in his Quidditch robes. Severus dug it out of the box without even looking at it. He wrapped it in an old grey handkerchief, and then went to bury it by the water.
***
Rodolphus, he never sees, and Bellatrix now is squeezed dry, sour and dull. She lives only for Voldemort when she used to live for Rodolphus, duelling, throwing parties.
"Do you remember that time by the lake, you asked me to rescue you?" says Severus when he sees her fading into a faded flowered chair.
"I'm sure I don't." Bellatrix closes her heavy-lidded eyes. Streaks of sunlight surround her. Severus thinks they'll bleach her out. Make her disappear.
"I- "
"You have a message, don't you? Something from the Dark Lord?" She opens her eyes to stare at him. Her tired face looks hopeful.
But he has nothing for her. All he can give her are nutritional potions to help her put on weight, but he knows she'll throw them out. She was always so careful about her figure.
When he turns to leave and she grabs his sleeve, she smiles at him; her smile a grimace of pain. "Don't be so glum, Severus, darling. Everything's going to be wonderful again. Now he's back. Everything's going to be just the way it was."