Their summer together was ending, and Severus wasn’t sure what the future would bring. His and Saturnine’s plan was ready and would be put into action upon their return to Hogwarts. And they had found a way to split their classes so that neither of them taught more Defence Against the Dark Arts than the other. An even fifty-fifty would hopefully confuse the curse to the point of rendering it ineffective—an ingenious idea that even Dumbledore believed might work.

That had been the easy part. The rest was more difficult for Severus to envision. It was funny that this was how his life had turned out. Little did he know that he would become more invested in his relationship with a seventeen-year-old teenager than his attempt to destroy the Dark Lord.

Severus wasn’t foolish enough not to realise the once-in-a-lifetime chance he’d been given with Draco—a gift so precious that he didn’t quite know what to do with it. He felt undeserving. He was a man of little means, and he could never hope to give Draco even a tenth of what the Malfoy vaults would have bought him. Moreover, he hadn’t the faintest how to care for someone; he barely even managed to do that for himself.

Draco might be an adult now, at least in their world. But in Severus’ eyes, he remained a child—a broken, hurting one that desperately needed someone who could offer him his unwavering support and continued acceptance. And the Fates had a twisted sense of humour if they thought he was the best candidate for that.

Saturnine broke his concentration when she appeared in his field of vision, crouching by the sofa so she could be at eye level with him. He hadn’t felt her coming in, so lost he was in his thoughts.

“Everything all right?” she asked with a touch of concern. “Looks like you were miles away.”

“Just thinking,” he replied, and a strange impulse made him look up and meet her gaze in earnest.

His magic was all but back to normal, and he could Occlude at will again. Yet Severus found himself refraining from doing so often. He hadn’t been at liberty to be himself for so long that he’d all but forgotten who he was. This newfound ability to experience his thoughts and emotions for himself was as disconcerting as it was uplifting. Somewhere amongst the many spy games he played, he forgot that it was his right to feel—to exist as something more than a pawn on someone else’s chessboard. Even when it hurt, the pain was his—it had been earned like everything else.

Saturnine moved to sit down on the sofa next to him, her shoulders turning his way so that she could keep holding his gaze. “What is it?” she asked, clearly concerned now. “Do you have doubts about our plan?”

He shook his head. “Not about the plan.”

“Something else, then,” she said, and he could see she was thinking it through. “Draco?”

He nodded, looking away. He could not put anything more into words. He’d always done everything on his own, never relying on anyone but himself; it was a novelty to even share his doubts. But he needed help. Or rather, Draco did. His hand reached for hers of its own volition, and his sister readily curled her warm fingers around his.

“I’m not what he needs,” he admitted, his voice barely louder than an exhale of breath.

“You are exactly what that boy needs,” she countered.

He snorted, but it came out more like a sob than he’d intended. “I have no idea what to do, ’Nine. I did everything wrong all summer long, and that all but killed Draco. He’d be dead now if it weren’t for you.”

“Call us quits, then,” she suggested. “I’d have lost Harry without your help.”

He shrugged. She’d gotten that one right. She was no better equipped to raise Wizarding Britain’s champion than he was raising the cast-off Malfoy heir. “How did this come to be? Us—of all people?”

The Snape bloodline was as tainted as it gets, and he’d never even entertained the notion of one day having a progeny of his own, for that very reason. Yet here they were, each having agreed to foster a child.

“Sorry—did you see any other contestants?” Saturnine asked. “Trust me, if someone else had come forward saying, ‘I want to raise Harry Potter,’ I wouldn’t have opposed.”

Her words were bitter, but that didn’t make them any less accurate. They were orphaned, Draco and Harry—used and abused by adults who played games unsuited to children but kept dragging them in anyway. Who else did they have?

“I never wanted children,” he admitted. “Did you?”

There was a long pause before Saturnine replied, “It was never on the cards for me.”

Glancing at her, Severus raised a questioning eyebrow at the nebulosity of that statement. She looked away, but not so quickly that he didn’t see the melancholic look that fluttered over her face.

Sensing that this was important, he asked delicately, “What do you mean, Saturnine?”

“I can’t,” she replied vaguely. “I can never have children.”

Sterility? He’d had no idea; he couldn’t remember her ever catching an illness that would have resulted in this. Whatever the cause was, it must have happened in the past fifteen years. It wasn’t his place to ask about it, though. If she didn’t want to explain, he would drop the subject.

They remained silent for a long time, each lost in thought. Only the connection of their joined hands remained, their entwined fingers refusing to let go.

“Elementals can’t have children—ever,” she said at last. “I guess whatever allows us to access that particular brand of magic rewrites our makeup on a cellular level or something. There isn’t a lot of literature on the subject.”

He held her hand a little tighter. “I had no idea. I’m sorry.”

She shrugged, then turned to face him again. “What’s your excuse?”

Severus couldn’t sustain her soul-searching gaze and looked away as he muttered, “You know very well what it is.”

“Our father,” she said in understanding, and it was like a small stab in the gut. Tobias Snape was a subject they never discussed, and he’d hoped she would stay away from it. He clamped his lips shut and would have crossed his arms over his chest if his left hand wasn’t otherwise occupied.

“I remember what I said that day, but I didn’t mean it,” Saturnine offered after a long pause. “It was an ugly argument, and I wanted to shut you up—” her voice broke, and she had to swallow first to be able to continue. “I said what I knew would hurt you the most.” She gasped and sniffed. “But I didn’t mean it. I never, not once, thought that of you.”

Severus felt like running away; anywhere would be better than here. He couldn’t do this; he just couldn’t. But he was rooted to the spot. His limbs were frozen, as if Saturnine’s confession had held the power to Stupefy him. He couldn’t move any more than he could release her hand.

“You weren’t wrong,” he admitted through the growing lump in his throat. “Look how I turned out.”

He saw her shaking her head in his peripheral vision. “You lost your way for a little while, that’s true, but you’re not like him. You never were. Dad hurt us for no reason—just because he could. You—you only wanted to belong somewhere, and you chose the wrong crowd. That’s not the same at all.”

Severus tried blinking to clear his vision, but he couldn’t see much of anything; too many tears were in the way. He could barely continue breathing.

“You have no idea how much I regret what I said that day,” Saturnine continued, and if her voice was any indication, she had to be crying now, too. “I should have stayed and fought you on this until you could see straight. Instead, I gave up, and I ran away like a bloody coward.” She sniffed again, and he felt his heart go out to her despite his pain. “And I really hate myself for it, Severus. Truly.”

His own voice was a garbled mess as he said, “Don’t. I was in a bad place, and I wanted you gone. I said some awful stuff, too.”

“That’s no excuse,” she replied, releasing his hand so that she could grab both of his shoulders to draw him in. Her face was stained with tears, and it tore at his heart worse than the Cruciatus Curse. “I abandoned you. You needed me, and I abandoned you. Who does that?”

He had no idea who had reached out for whom. But they were suddenly hugging each other with a strength that could move mountains.

“I’m sorry, Sev,” she murmured into his ear. “I’m so sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too,” he said, crying for his mistakes and hers—for the last fifteen years of misery and the ones before that hadn’t been much better.

They remained like that for a long time, locked in each other’s arms, too lost in their respective pain to say anything. It took Severus a long time to muster the courage to ask her to stay.

“Stay. Please stay with me,” he begged. He was downright pleading with her, but he couldn’t care less. His life had become too painful, and he couldn’t cope alone anymore. “I need help, ’Nine. Please.”

“I would love nothing more, Sev,” she said between two tearful breaths. “If you’ll have me.”

“Promise?” he asked, clinging to her with all the strength he had left.

She nodded against his shoulder. “You and me,” she said, their childhood motto soothing him like a gentle balm. “You and me against the world. Always.”

The afternoon sky started to turn red and purple outside Cove Cottage, but still, they didn’t let go. Their tears had dried, and the bottomless ache in their chests had begun to subside, but they weren’t quite ready to let go yet. This cathartic release had been a long time coming. It had taken them over fifteen years to find each other again; they figured they could indulge a short while longer.

“What will we do?” Severus asked at last, once he’d finally regained control of his voice.

“We’re resourceful, aren’t we? We’ll think of something.” She paused, seeming to consider it for a grand total of five seconds. Then she offered, “I’ll help you with Draco if you help me with Harry. How does that sound?”

He snorted. “Like the craziest idea you’ve ever had—and you’ve had a few.”

She chuckled before pecking him on the cheek, and he felt himself blush.

“It’s going to be okay,” she said. “You raised me, after all. And I didn’t turn out so bad.”

“I did the best I could,” he admitted. And he had. Even though he’d had no idea what he was doing half the time. But between their monster of a father and absent-minded mother, he’d been forced to step up at an early age.

“Just do the same again, and it’ll be more than enough,” she instructed gently, patting his arm comfortingly. “Just love him, Sev. Let yourself love him, and it’ll be all right.”

She seemed to have so much faith in his abilities that it was disconcerting. “I don’t know if I can.”

“You’ve got the biggest heart I know.”        

He huffed in disbelief. “Have you met me?”

“Yes, actually, I have,” she answered with a smile. “I have known you my entire life. I should know.”

***

Their seventh and final year was upon them, and Harry felt weird having to pack up his trunk. This summer at Cove Cottage had been memorable, to say the least. Some days had been the absolute worst, while others had been amongst the best.

September 1st remained about two weeks away, but Saturnine and Severus were expected at Hogwarts already to prepare their respective classes. Thus, it had been decided that Draco and himself would go along, and Severus promised to find something to keep them busy until the arrival of the Hogwarts Express. There’d been something of the Professor Snape of old in the dark glint of his eyes as he’d said it, and Harry dearly hoped that the bat of the dungeon didn’t mean that he’d have them scrubbing his cauldrons and mopping his classroom floor.

Looking at the other side of the bedroom, where Draco was meticulously levitating shirt after shirt into his fancy trunk, Harry realised he would miss that pompous git most of all. He’d often wondered what it would have been like to have a brother, and he guessed his question had finally been answered—not that either of them would ever admit to that aloud.

Harry tossed his last pair of jeans onto the pile before giving his wardrobe one final once-over to make sure it was empty.

“Really, Potter?” Draco asked, glancing disapprovingly at the jumbled mess of clothes he’d thrown in his trunk. “Were you raised by Trolls or something?”

“That’s just how the common folks do it, your highness,” he replied without missing a beat. “We weren’t all raised with a silver spoon in our mouth.”

“Platinum,” Draco said, feigning a look of the utmost haughtiness. “It was platinum—diamond-encrusted, too.”

“But of course, your royal lordship,” Harry said, attempting an elaborated bow that looked utterly ridiculous. “Please do forgive me.”

Breaking character, Draco flopped onto Harry’s bed with a careless, “Sodding lion.”

Satisfied that he’d gotten everything, Harry closed the lid of his trunk. So what if he had to sit on it to get the job done. “Snake,” he said when he heard Draco snicker behind his back.

“Jerk,” the Slytherin retorted.

Harry didn’t need to think twice to form a reply; they’d been doing this once or twice a week for a solid month now. “Schmuck.”

“Tosser.”

“Wanker.”

“Boys!”

The third voice that had just joined their duet made them both freeze in surprise. The louder than expected interruption had come from none other than Severus—or rather, a seething Professor Snape. Their teacher didn’t seem pleased by their antics. He towered in the entrance of their bedroom with his arms crossed over his black frock coat while his piercing obsidian eyes held them in place as effectively as a Stunning Spell.

The dark-haired wizard cocked one of his eyebrows; the action was so sharp and definite that it was a sentence in its own. “Explain the meaning of this,” it ordered.

Draco remained utterly silent and motionless, and Harry got the feeling the blond would have sunk beneath the mattress if he could have. Coward, he thought inwardly, promising himself to add that word to their next verbal joust. Then, drawing upon his Gryffindor courage, he explained, “We didn’t mean it; we were just fooling around.” Then he added for good measure, “Sir.”

Severus’ eyebrow stayed where it was, and Harry dearly wished he hadn’t packed his Invisibility Cloak at the bottom of his trunk, for it sure as hell would have come in handy just now.

The silence stretched, and still, the dark eyes remained locked on them like a well-aimed curse. Harry felt cold droplets of sweat run down his back, and he couldn’t help but stammer, “It—it was nothing—honest. Just us having fun.” He chuckled dryly at that as if it could help reinforce his point. “A bit childish, I know. But it’s—uh—the kind of stuff people our age do,” he said. Then he hastened to add another, “Sir,” just in case.

Severus remained motionless, and Harry felt himself growing desperate. Turning to Draco, he gave him an imploring look that all but screamed, “He’s your godfather. Why don’t you say something to get us out of this mess?”

“What’s going on?” a fourth voice asked from the corridor, just before a bemused Saturnine squeezed herself past Severus to join them in the bedroom.

She looked at Harry and Draco and then back at her brother before shaking her head fondly. “What is this, Severus? Brushing the dust off your frightening alter ego to see if you’ve still got it?”

The intimidating eyebrow vanished in the blink of an eye, and the corners of the wizard’s mouth lifted to form what Harry could only label as a boyish grin. It was so much at odds with the face that had been scaring the pants out of him only seconds ago that he got whiplash.

“Did you have to frighten the boys to do it?” Saturnine asked him with a raised eyebrow of her own. “If you were so desperate to work out the kinks, you could have practised on me, you know.”

Severus shrugged meekly as he leaned against the doorjamb. “It never works on you.”

The scene was so surreal that Harry felt the oddest case of the giggles trying to burst free of his chest. He tried holding it in, but the battle was lost before it began. And it must have been contagious because Draco joined in an instant later. It wasn’t long until both Saturnine and Severus caught the bug. Soon the four of them looked like they’d been hit by simultaneous Tickling Spells.

It took them a while to regain their breaths. By then, Harry had collapsed on the bed next to Draco, while Saturnine had sprawled on his. Severus remained in the entrance. But he was discreetly brushing at his eyes to remove the tears of joy that had pooled there.

“All done packing?” Saturnine asked at last.

Both students nodded in tandem, and Draco felt the need to add, “Some better than others.”

If they’d been alone, Harry would have stuck his tongue out at him. As it was, he refrained and asked instead, “When will we get our books and stuff?”

“Sometime next week, if that’s okay with you,” Saturnine said. “Sev and I have a few things to get done at Hogwarts that can’t wait. But we’ll find some time for a quick trip to Diagon Alley before school starts.”

“I don’t want to wait until the weekend; it will be too crowded then. We’ll go on Friday, at the latest,” Severus added.

Harry felt Draco tense by his side. And he glanced his way to see that all humour had left his face. The adults must have perceived the change, too, for all eyes were now turned on him.

“I—uh—I don’t really have any money to pay for anything,” he conceded, looking down at his folded hands in his lap. It was evident the admission had cost him.

“That’s all right,” Severus replied, entering the room. “I’ll cover it.”

“I’d offer to pay you back, but…” his voice trailed off, and Harry felt that the blond looked the picture of misery.

Severus stopped by their bed and crouched before Draco, placing a hand on his knee. “You don’t need to, Draco. You’re under my care now. It’s my job to see to your needs. And I’m proud to do so.”

“It’s a thing parents do,” Harry told the blond with a soft smile. “Apparently, they’re very keen to buy you your school stuff. Probably because they know how much of a headache it will give you throughout the year.”

Looking over Severus’ shoulder, Harry caught Saturnine’s appreciative gaze and relieved smile, and he realised they’d come a long way—all of them. Inching forward on the bed, he reached for Severus’ free hand and curled his fingers around his, even as he extended the other for Saturnine to grab.

She got to her feet an instant later, coming to sit next to Harry, and effortlessly slipped her hand in his. She placed the other on her brother’s shoulder.

Family wasn’t always made from blood, and Harry was glad to see their quartet had solidified into something more, even if he wasn’t sure where they stood with each other. Did the recent developments make him Draco’s cousin and Severus Snape’s—nephew? Merlin, that was a lot of Slytherin snakes in his family tree all of a sudden.

~ End Of Part Three ~