The years that followed were of a different flavour. Between the forced isolation and frequent relocation to other countries, Saturnine learned to travel light. Her rule of thumb was that if it didn’t fit in her trunk, it was best not to get attached. Thank Merlin, she was a competent witch—her trunk had been magically expanded, and she was well versed in shrinking charms.

The first three years spent in Normandie had been not unlike her life at Hogwarts. She made friends, built a life—and spent way too much time surrounded by books. Leaving that place had been hard, but leaving Remus Lupin had been harder. Saturnine had always known it would come to that one day—they both did. Early on, she and Remus decided not to get romantically involved, knowing it would simplify things in the end. Though they promised each other to keep in touch and write frequently, they both knew things would never be the same. It would be years before they saw each other again, and their parting left a bitter feeling in its wake.

Having learned from her mistakes, Saturnine left France with a series of photographs tucked into her trunk. There were a dozen in total: a collection of snapshots of the friends she had made, the owner of the bookstore where she had worked, and Remus…

It wasn’t until she moved to Switzerland that she bought her first camera, though. It wasn’t a magical one—there was no way she could afford one of those—but a cheap, plastic model that she bought in a Muggle shop. Unlike the more sophisticated units, which required you to send the used film somewhere to be developed, that one provided its owner with prompt results. By some feat of technology that she couldn’t understand, the images printed themselves right away on instant film. From thereon in, Saturnine took photographs of everything and everyone. And she started keeping her own cardboard shoebox in her trunk.

Still, she was never satisfied. It didn’t matter how many frozen moments she captured or how good at it she got. Her mind couldn’t help but drift back to that old coral cardboard shoebox she had left behind and the treasure it contained. Now, more than ever, Saturnine bitterly regretted not having stolen that one photograph of her and Severus sitting on the living room sofa. Sweet Circe, what she wouldn’t give to hold it in her hands once more.

Not that she couldn’t remember the lines of her brother’s sweet face anymore. She would never forget those dark, intelligent eyes, that resilient nose, or the way his mouth crooked when he allowed a smirk to tip the corner of his lips. It was only that what she most vividly remembered was their parting of ways and the cold, invisible wall they’d erected between them.

Though she longed for the return of that childhood memory burned on instant film, Saturnine had a few photographs of her brother sitting atop the pile of snapshots that rested at the bottom of her trunk.

On the day that Severus got his potions mastery, Saturnine had returned to the UK to attend the ceremony. Under a disguise, with her facial traits magically altered, she stood near the back of the assembly. She remained close to a large family group to pass for one of their own, and she made sure not to stand out. Not able to bring a wizarding camera to the gathering, she took along her trusted Polaroid. She was certain no one noticed her taking a few shots of the brooding, dark-haired wizard introduced as Britain’s youngest Potion Master.

The resulting images weren’t of the best quality. The lighting had been poor, and she’d been standing at the back of the crowd, but it was better than nothing. Those were her only photographs of her brother. And if she sometimes cried when she looked at them, she only had herself to blame.

***

Looking back one evening as she nursed a bottle of saké in Shanghai Harbour, Saturnine supposed their parting had been unavoidable—that row had been brewing for years. And to think she’d had such high hopes for Hogwarts—they both had.

Their time in Scotland had been a most wondrous experience, but it had changed everything for them—between them. Being sorted into different Houses led to a growing rift. The tension with their peers, the eventual split between Severus and Lily—all that and more pushed them apart. A few years later, the Snape siblings no longer were the tightly knit pair they had always been.

Growing up in close quarters and living in such an isolated way, the siblings were nearly always of the same mind. Truth be told, it was sometimes hard to tell where each one of them ended and the other started. Perhaps, Saturnine figured, their symbiotic relationship had run so deep that it became toxic. And they had needed the distance and time spent apart to become their own selves—a chance to forge their own identity separate from each other’s influence.

Her quest to understand who she was took her to the four winds. She had felt, deep in her bones, the need to know what she was made of, to learn how to control these new powers that had been hers since birth.

She supposed Severus’ journey to adulthood was less physical and more cerebral. Her older brother was searching for his identity. The poor boy had been hurt so much over the years: wounded, bullied and brought low. Severus needed time to patch up his old wounds and build himself back up. And he needed a chance to realise his potential and become the man he was destined to be. Saturnine only hoped the walls he’d built around himself for protection wouldn’t be too thick to break out of when he’d finished his transformation, and it was time for the butterfly to step out of the chrysalis.

Flipping closed the most recent edition of the Daily Prophet she had found—dated twelve days ago—Saturnine thanked the stars that there had been no mention of Severus Snape in its pages. The siblings might have parted ways less than amicably, but she still felt an irrepressible rush of anguish grip her every time she opened the newspaper. She feared discovering one day that something nefarious had happened to her brother.