It was frightening how perilously close Severus had come to losing the boy’s trust. What Molly had suggested had seemed so reasonable and expedient. It had seemed the perfect way to avoid the child’s being harassed by the Ministry, and not incidentally, to keep Harry’s true parentage a secret.

When Harry had come into the kitchen looking so drawn and unhappy and mumbled his way through the explanation of how he was feeling about a betrothal, it had been on the tip of Severus’ tongue to tell Harry that this was the way things were done in the Wizarding world. He very nearly told the child that it was just something he’d have to get accustomed to.

“Severus. Stop.” Several of the voices in his head seemed against the idea, but the words were Lily’s, “He’s never asked for anything before.” Then, more softly, “Don’t you remember what I was like the first time I’d heard about this particular custom?”

Lily had thrown an almighty fit one day when one of her Gryffindor housemates had come into school talking about the betrothal her parents had just arranged. It was in exchange for some magical debt or another.

Down by the lake, she had told Severus in great detail how it made her recoil in horror. Lily’s rant had started with how her grandmother had been a Suffragette and had gone to work in a laundry when she refused to go into service at fourteen. Lily had gone on to talk about politics and unions—most of which Severus didn’t follow. The upshot was that Muggles with this sort of background did NOT see betrothals as a Proper Thing To Do.

“Don’t do this, Sev,” she finished.

With that request accompanying it, there was no way Severus could deny the child. As sensible a plan as it might seem to wizards, the boy’s Muggle background probably made it entirely unpalatable.

It was almost worth it just to see the shock in the boy’s eyes. Sadly, it also reinforced the impression that no one had ever listened to the child before.

Molly was a little too easy to convince—that seemed suspicious, but the girl seemed to relax after he agreed to cancel it. Perhaps she’d had objections, too.

“Can’t imagine why,” Lily’s voice remarked sarcastically.

His Occlumency seemed able to keep everyone but Lily out right now.

Another note came from Lupin after tea, passing on his regrets that Severus would have to stay with the Weasleys a few more days. Apparently Albus needed him for ward setting.

Severus mentioned again that he and Harry could be gone from under Molly’s feet. She merely glared at him and then behaved as if she hadn’t heard.  Although this little veranda outside the back door of the Burrow she had conjured and that he currently was sitting on was probably Molly’s acknowledgement of Severus’ need for solitude that didn’t require him to lock himself in the bedroom.

It wouldn’t last more than a day or two—it was nothing more than a rain-repelling charm and a warming charm that had an illusion of roof, floor and windows. Arthur had informed him cheerfully that this was something Molly did when the boys were suffering from cabin fever in the winter and driving her around the bend. Sometimes she’d lock the boys out here, sometimes herself. Arthur had brought out an actual chair, side table and ottoman for Severus to use.

“It’s hard to be around the boys when you don’t have a retreat,” Arthur said cheerfully. He’d left a tea tray and a plate of biscuits on the little side table.

Right now, Severus was using the welcome quiet to converse with Lily. Or rather get a lecture from Lily.

“You know what you need to do.” Her voice was so clear that it sounded like it was coming from outside of his head. “You should tell him.”

“Lily, I can’t,” he muttered. “It would devastate him.”

“Maybe so,” she replied, “but it will be much worse if he finds out for himself. His friend already said she thought only blood relatives could make betrothal contracts. She’s smart enough to find out. And then she need only go to the records office.”

“If it gets out, it could ruin your good name,” Severus protested.

“We don’t care about that.”

“We?”

“James and I. I told him, not long before we died, what you’d done for us.”

Severus could almost see her, sitting next to him in a chair that matched the one he occupied.

No.

He could see her. Clear as the dismal November sunset. Rather than a ghostly silver, she was dressed in a becoming green robe that matched her eyes and contrasted beautifully with her auburn hair.

“Why don’t you look like a ghost?” he asked her curiously.

“Because to you I’m not one, Severus,” she said gently. “A third of your soul dwells here, on the Other Side.  There’s no Veil between us.”

That was not in his head. Perhaps he’d drifted to sleep again.

“Not this time.” She smiled and rocked in her chair. After a moment, she used her wand to produce a second cup and helped herself to tea. “Although you’d be better just thinking at me—you wouldn’t want to advertise that you’re a Necromancer. Or to have everyone thinking you’ve lost your mind.”

The Ministry would hunt him down like a dog if they found out about this latest thing.

“Considering that I’m fairly certain I have lost my mind,” he replied lightly, although without moving his lips, “I’m not sure it matters.”

Lily smiled, but the expression was a little bitter. “Yes, but I won’t have you locked up in St. Mungo’s or Azkaban. Harry needs you.”

“Harry doesn’t need me. He needs someone who can love him,” Severus scoffed. “Someone who can look after him properly. Molly and Arthur are much better suited and Harry will be much happier.”

“Harry needs much more attention than Molly and Arthur can give him. Especially right now.” Lily stared into the sunset. “And you do love him.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, I’m only…”

“Severus, don’t,” Lily interrupted, “It’s all right if you’re fond of your son.” She held up a hand to stop whatever he was going to say next. “I know you never intended him to be yours. I know that you have always thought of him as James’ and mine.  If things were different that would be the best thing you could do.” She turned to look him fully in the face. “But things aren’t different. If my sister hadn’t been such a hateful little bitch…” her face twisted, “If I wasn’t dead. If James wasn’t… If Sirius hadn’t run off half cocked. If Peter hadn’t sold us out to Voldemort…”

“I beg your pardon?” Severus sputtered, “Lily, you’re mistaken… It was Black who gave your whereabouts away.”

Lily sniffed and wiped her eyes with a white handkerchief from her sleeve. “No. It was Peter.”

He shook his head. “Black confessed.” Greatly daring, he reached over and put his hand on hers. It felt warm and alive under his. “When Albus visited him in Azkaban, the only thing he said to him was, ‘It was my fault.’”

She sighed and sniffed. “He thinks it was his fault, but he never sold us to Voldemort. He blames himself, but it was Peter who betrayed us.” She looked up, intense again. “Things have changed, Severus. You’ve reached a turn in the road.” Her face took on an eerie spirit glow. “Tonight the traitor is revealed and everything begins. Harry needs the truth from you. He needs one person he can trust, and he’ll never be able to trust you with secrets separating you.”

She stood and bent down to put her arms around him. “I know you’ll do the right thing, my friend,” she whispered.

He returned her embrace, only to discover the next second that he held nothing.

Sighing, he poured another cup of tea.

“Professor?” a quiet voice said behind him.

“Miss Weasley,” he acknowledged, wondering what the child could possibly want. He sat on the urge to snap at her to leave him be. Lily would not be impressed and he would likely never hear the end of it.

“Er…” She came around to stand in front of him.

She looked dreadful, almost swaying on her feet with fatigue. Not unlike how Severus felt. She took the chair Lily had been sitting in. The professor was startled to realize the chair was real, not an illusion Lily had created.

“I… er… I wanted to thank you, Professor,” the girl said in a rush.

“For…?”

“You’ve been really…” she hesitated, looking for a word, “good about this whole spell thing.” She looked down at her hands, then raised her gaze back up. “Bill told me… He was really worried. Mum didn’t want to tell me, but Bill did anyway… He said that the best I could hope for is that you’d be willing to marry me. That way I’d at least have some rights under the law. He said that the spell could be used as a Bondage spell. I didn’t think that you really would, “ she hastened to tell him, her eyes wide and worried. “I told him weren’t like that, but Bill thought you might want to marry me, because, well… you know…” she turned bright red, “he said that the goblins reckoned you might want an heir.”

“Miss Weasley, I am very tired,” Severus replied quietly, not wanting to keep having this conversation. “And, if I may say so, you look like you need to get yourself back to your bed.” He addressed her as he’d address one of his Slytherins who was ill and denying the need to see Madam Pomfrey—equal parts sympathy and common sense. “I imagine this whole thing has been quite the ordeal for you. Please dismiss from your mind any obligation you feel towards me. I believe your parents and I have decided  on a course of action that should appease the spell without any further disruption of your life.”  He stopped for a moment to sip his tea, before adding, “I apologize for leaving you with this anxiety; I honestly didn’t take into account that part of the spell.”

“I told Bill that you weren’t like that,” she repeated, her eyes wide. “I knew you couldn’t be because of what you said to Death,” she whispered. “Do you remember?”

No, actually he didn’t, but he didn’t like to tell her that. “Miss Weasley, I doubt it matters.”

She stared for a few more seconds before relaxing. “No, sir,” she agreed, then she said, “Erm, sir?”

“Yes?”

“I should tell you, I looked up betrothal contracts when Bill mentioned them. The book’s still in my room. It said only close kin can make those sorts of contracts. And it wouldn’t have appeased the spell anyway, if Harry wasn’t your… your close kin.” She had the good grace to blush at her own temerity. “I won’t say anything to Harry, but Hermione…” she trailed off.

“Ginny?” Molly called from the kitchen. “Why don’t you go have a lie down for a while, dear.”

Severus sighed. “Go on child,” he told her, when she rolled her eyes and opened her mouth to protest, “do as your mother says.”

“Yes, sir.” Ginny stood and gave him a little smile.

Molly gave her daughter a pat on the shoulder as she went past.

“You are a devious woman, Molly Weasley,” Severus said as she sat down.

“Sorry?” she asked all innocence.

He looked at her with narrowed eyes, realizing that she had the same deadpan expression the twins wore when they were caught out, but her eyes sparkled with the expression of triumph they had when they’d gotten away with a particularly clever prank.

“Never mind.” Severus couldn’t find it in him to be angry at Molly’s machinations. All she’s truly done was fail to remind him of things that should have been at the forefront of his mind. By her lights, she was doing everything possible to help himself and his son.

Harry was his son.

That was the crux of everything, wasn’t it?

“Auntie Muriel’s solicitor just sent back an owl.” Molly was unaware that Severus’ whole world had just shifted on its axis for the umpteenth time since September. “She says she can take the case. The inquest was actually handled most irregularly. It’s entirely possible that the confiscation of the Prince assets was not legal.”

That didn’t matter as much as it once might have.

“And it may well be that in the rush to settle the case, the Ministry wrongly convicted your mother.”

That did matter. Severus remembered the rejection letters he’d received from various apprenticeships, unable to take him because of his family history of mental instability.

Abraxis Malfoy had finally stepped in after Severus had joined the Death Eaters to find him a Potions Apprenticeship. It hadn’t been his first choice, but fortunately it was something he was very good at.

Molly was continuing, “She said that extenuating circumstances can generally be found for this type of thing. She’s going to do some more research.”

“Thank you. What do I owe her?” Severus asked.

Molly looked at Severus as if he’d grown a second head. “Don’t be silly. Muriel’s taking care of it. It’s a matter of family honor now.” She shifted in her chair nervously. “To that end… Muriel said she’d heard you asked for permission to bury Eileen on the Prince grounds and been denied.”

Severus nodded, his insides squirming as he thought about his mother, her ashes resting in her urn on top of the bookshelf in the living room. He just couldn’t bear to bury her in a Muggle cemetery.

“Ah. You know that Muriel and I are the last of the Prewitts?” Molly asked quietly.

“No, I didn’t,” Severus replied.

“Muriel and I… we wondered if you were still unhappy with where her grave rests… And then, well, we  wondered if it was the Prince Cemetery in particular you wanted her buried in, or if you would accept any Wizarding family cemetery. We could have her moved to our family cemetery.” She paused. “If you wanted.”

That was unexpected.

“That’s very kind,” Severus said huskily.

Molly patted his hand. “No need to decide now, dear,” she said softly.

Severus felt like he was standing on an uncertain precipice. He looked at her kind eyes and asked, “Molly? How can I tell him?”

She didn’t mind the rapid shift in topic. “Just tell him, Severus,” she said softly, not removing her hand from his. “He’ll be angry, but one thing I’ve noticed about our Harry is that he never stays that way. Mine? They’ll carry a grudge till the next Domesday, but your boy?” She might have put the slightest emphasis on “your boy.” “With him, it’s a flash, then it’s gone.”

Severus nodded. “Things are always complicated, aren’t they?” he said softly.

Molly nodded soberly. “Generally. You very likely want to get it over with, and if I may say so, while you’re here.” She hesitated. “I think I’m right in assuming you might need help keeping an eye on him.”

Severus nodded, closing his eyes. “Yes.”

“Shall I send him down?” she asked gently.

Finally, Severus bowed to the inevitable. “Yes. Just don’t go far. I have an idea that he’ll not be talking to me for a while after this.”