LET BYGONES BE BYGONES… PLEASE?

* * *

The same evening

Severus walked up the path to his dump of a home in Spinner's End, fuming. How dare Potter?! He had every right to be angry with the brat. Of all the stupid, reckless things imaginable, the boy had to go and mess with time! And whatever for?!

Well, that was another question entirely, the answer to which he, admittedly, did not have as of yet due to the fact that he was not able to keep his temper in check. 

But that was of no consequence, Potter had no right to behave in such an abominable way with him. Severus was an adult and his professor, former or not, was irrelevant. But more importantly, in Severus' humble opinion, Potter owed him rather a lot, so the very least he was due was some basic respect from the boy.

Severus reached his front door and removed the wards from it in one swift motion, stepped through, and quickly put them back on. One could not be too careful these days. 

For a while, the only thing Severus could do was pace, feeling too frustrated and too torn to do much of anything else. Now, when the shock had worn off somewhat, Severus — to his utter dismay — realised that out of the two of them, he was the one who acted stupidly. First, it was entirely possible that Potter’s appearance was a consequence of a number of actions not related with time travelling in any way. And even if not, Potter might have had a good reason for using a time turner. Potter's potential use of the time turner might have been directly connected to the other oddities that Severus noticed. Most likely it was the case, and had he not reacted like an impulsive airhead — like a Gryffindor really — he might have held the answers to the myriad of questions galloping in his mind by now. Which made the situation all the more frustrating, because he sincerely doubted that he'd have another chance. To be completely honest, he'd be the first to refuse another meeting with the boy. Seeing him again would be too disconcerting… He strode to the kitchen, found a bottle of Ogden's in his stash, poured himself a shot, and gulped it down in one go. Then repeated the process. Severus was almost one hundred percent sure that whatever that temporary paralysis was, it had nothing to do with Potter, that it was some trick of his Occlumency-addicted mind in the throws of withdrawal. The residue was still there, however, so not exacerbating the already dire situation his sanity was in by not seeing Harry Potter any time soon would be the best course of action. This whole endeavour was a giant mistake that was bound to be doomed from the start anyway.

Upon coming to this conclusion, Severus was finally able to relax. Yes, he would forget about it all and move on. Let Potter be someone else's problem for a change. Satisfied, Severus descended into the lab in the basement and resumed brewing a fresh batch of the Calming Draught that he started this morning, soon getting lost in the peaceful monotony of cutting, crushing, and stirring.

Over two hours flew by while he kept blissfully busy, and it was only as he left the potion (or two) to cool down and was cleaning the workbench, that he felt the ward around his fireplace getting off. Someone was calling. Frowning, Severus hurriedly returned to the living room and found Minerva's head floating in the green flames. 

"Severus! Good evening—" 

"Night, more accurately." 

"Oh, pish-posh! May I step through? I have something I want to talk to you about."

Severus regarded her worriedly. He was so not ready for another turbulent meeting… But McGonagall seemed gravelly serious, so maybe he was mistaken, and it had nothing to do with him. Maybe something happened. Sighing, he waved his hand, dismantling the ward and motioned for the witch to step through. 

Minerva vanished, and a moment later stepped out of the green flames in all her exhausted tartan glory. For a few seconds the two of them simply stood staring at each other without a word. 

"So…" Minerva drawled. 

"So?" Severus replied and a moment later motioned for Minerva to follow him into the kitchen. They sat down at the small wooden table in the centre of the room.

"Whatever is so urgent that you've barged in here this late?"

"I would've barged in earlier, but you weren't home." 

Severus sighed. "What happened?" he asked, ignoring the way McGonagall looked at the bottle in front of her. 

"Nothing happened, Severus."

He raised an eyebrow. "Then why are you here?" 

"Because we need to talk."

"Do we?"

Minerva blew out a deep breath. "Fine." She took her wand out and transfigured a small glass for herself out of a napkin, shoving it towards Severus. He poured her a drink without a comment. " I need to talk to you , whether you even listen is not up to me." She emptied her glass before continuing, "But I dearly hope that you will." 

For a fleeting moment Severus panicked. He had a pretty good idea of what she wanted and almost asked her to leave, but Minerva didn't give him a chance to open his mouth. 

"Severus. First of all… I wanted to apologise to you. I know I'm almost a year late with this, but…" she froze for a second, lost in thoughts, then shook her head slightly. "Anyway, it's not an excuse. You've always been quite skilled at fooling people, but I know you almost your entire life and should've never believed you to be such a monster. I should’ve at the very least questioned it. But I was blinded by my own—”

“Minerva.” Severus looked at her sadly, interrupting. “Don’t.” 

Hearing apologies was unbearable. It stirred so many emotions he was not used to feeling therefore had no idea how to deal with. Fear, anger, shame, nervousness, relief, guilt, and Merlin only knew what else desperately fought for dominance inside of him. Severus forgot how painful it all was, forgot how much he used to crave this, crave being important enough to somebody to apologise. The temptation to occlude almost overwhelmed him. Afraid that he'd snap, Severus poured himself a glass of firewhiskey and gulped it down. It didn't immediately help, so he poured another one. The liquid fire reached his stomach and spread waves of a nice warmth throughout his whole body. 

McGonagall sighed loudly, attracting his attention. She seemed genuinely distraught. And, of course, she didn't give a flying fuck about his wishes. How astonishing. 

“We all betrayed you… I betrayed you. You once told me that I… And I just… I’m so sorry… I’m so sorry. But no matter how hard you're trying to hide it, I know you have a big heart, Severus, and hope that one day you’d be able to forgive me and give me a chance to earn your trust back."

Severus turned fully to the table and leaned on his elbows. All of a sudden, the whirlwind of emotions stopped, and he was left with only a feeling of strange detachment. 

"We’re all sorry, madam. I'm sorry too… for so many things done over so many years. I’m so tired of it, I feel like I’m falling apart, Minerva, and find that caring about it takes too much strength, so I mostly don’t. I’d still rather not have this over-emotional conversation right now, if you don’t mind. I barely keep it together as it is these days. 

“I cannot blame you for anything you did or did not do during last year, Minerva. You were meant to believe me a monster, I created that belief with my own hands and diligently encouraged it day in and day out. It's not your fault. Let's leave it at that."

"Yes. Yes, fine. Though, why keep it a secret from all of us? I'll never understand why it needed to be that way."

Severus started to doubt that it was a secret from all of them, in truth, but it was a good question nonetheless. He thought about it for many months now but still couldn't get any closer to the real answer than he was originally. For safety, he was told. For the sake of their cause. For Harry bloody Potter's sake. As if the ruddy shapeshifter would ever appreciate it. Severus did not know what to reply, so he just closed his eyes for a second and shrugged. "Because it just had to," he said quietly. “You were at my trial, woman, you’ve already heard me answer that question. I have nothing more to add.”

McGonagall sighed sadly and turned to look out of the window. Silence fell.

"As if any of you would've believed me anyway…" flew through Severus' mind. 

"What?" 

What? Did he just say it out loud? Severus glanced at the woman. She watched him intently as if daring to repeat his words, and his first instinct was to back down, to avoid breaking his hard won peace, but then Minerva raised an eyebrow and pursed her lips, waking Severus' anger up. To hell with peace. Did she really think that any other outcome was possible? Unbelievable. 

"Dumbledore would have never shared such vital information, Minerva," he snapped, not bothering to repeat himself. She obviously heard what he said. He took a deep breath and continued more calmly. "Don't pretend like it's a surprise to you. And even if I wanted to go against the old man's orders and tell somebody, without Albus backing me up, none of you would have believed me. None of you wanted to believe me to start with, whatever the situation was. Even you had your fair share of doubts on an enviably regular basis. I'm a Death Eater. Reformed or not is irrelevant, I'm a Death Eater, and will always be one. Stop deluding yourself. You would have reacted relatively the same way regardless of the amount of available information."

"No," Minerva insisted, softly hitting the table with her fist. "No, Severus, how can you say such a thing?! Of course, I would've believed you if you came to me, especially when this whole craziness had only begun!" 

"Of course, you would've. And then in your righteous anger, you would've stormed into Dumbledore's office to demand an explanation." 

"Damn right I would've!"

"And he would've gladly given you one!" Severus hissed. He forced himself to stop and just breathe for a few moments. "He would've been oh so happy to explain to you how wrong I was, implying — or possibly stating outright — that I've finally lost my marbles from all the Cruciatus I was regularly subjected to, or maybe that he was mistaken and I'm not that trustworthy after all, or any number of other things. Either way, you would've left his office full of doubts about my story and me overall. That's assuming that you wouldn't have simply somehow, entirely by accident, naturally, forgot what you really came to him for. The only thing you would've accomplished by this is making my life even more of a hell than it already was."

Minerva listened in stunned silence. 

"No… Surely you're exaggerating… Albus could be ruthless, but you were one of his men, he would've done everything to protect you."

"If it would've suited him — probably. If not… Well. We were at war, there was always a possibility of becoming collateral damage."

"But—"

"No 'buts'. There's no possible 'but' here, Minerva. Can't you see this? We were all just troopers with varying degrees of significance, and he was our general. And just like any general worth his salt, he was concerned with the big picture, with the fate of the country, not with our separate mostly irrelevant fates." They both were silent for a couple of moments. "Look at Potter, for God's sake," Severus continued in a whisper. 

"What's wrong with Potter? He's made it alive."

Severus sighed deeply. How stupid of him it was to say this…

"Have you seen him recently?" 

"Only at your trial." 

Severus took the bottle, intending to pour himself another shot, but McGonagall grabbed his forearm.

“What happened with Potter, Severus?”

The two of them stared at each other for a long moment.

“I don’t know. But nothing good, I presume,” he replied eventually, freeing his arm, and finished what he started.

“What makes you think that something's wrong at all?”

“Because I’ve just seen him, and it was not a pleasant experience.”

“For Merlin’s sake, Severus!” McGonagall snapped, hitting the tabletop again. “Could you be more coherent and specific? No matter what, Harry is still just a boy! And he just went through a very traumatic experience, if he needs help, and you’ve been sitting here knowing and not saying a word about it…”

Severus huffed. “Your precious Potter does not need any help, I assure you, or if he does, he did not deign to inform me about it.”

Minerva relaxed her shoulders. “I’m sorry. What is it then? What makes you think that he was somehow wronged by Albus?”

Severus also relaxed, gulping his almost forgotten drink down. Thoughts slowly and sluggishly drifted inside his mind, lulling him into a sense of security even more. There was no harm in telling her a little, right?

"During the battle, when Potter and I were in my office, I noticed something extraordinarily weird about the boy. At first it was relatively small things like the way he talked and looked, his words themselves were oddly phrased, et cetera. He was the same Potter, only thin and dirty, but at the same time something about him was totally different."

"Have you found out what? I can’t imagine you simply letting it be," Minerva interrupted. Severus shrugged. 

"I didn't even try. At first I was about to tell him that he must go and meet his demise at the tip of the Dark Lord's wand, and after he told me that he already knew it, I was too busy wrapping my mind around it. And what did it matter anyway? I was sending him to his death. The boy was allowed to behave oddly. How would we all behave if put in his shoes? No one ever knows…”

“Indeed…”

“And then he went and told me the Dark Lord’s secret. What the three of them had been doing. It shocked me enough to forget all of the above. And then…” Severus whispered, holding up a hand to prevent Minerva from speaking, and leaned towards her. “And then he apparated right out of the office, somehow blocking me inside.”

“How is that even possible? No one can apparite inside the wards. You were in such a state back then, maybe you’d just imagined it?"

Severus stared at the woman completely unimpressed. "When have I ever ‘imagined’ anything?" he finally said, drawing out the word ‘imagined’ in his customary manner. "I did not imagine , I fucking saw it. He apparated out of the office. And when I attempted to leave and join the battle, every exit out of the tower was blocked. I tried every possible spell I know with only a concussion to show for it. And the most hilarious thing about it all is that apparently the door opened quite effortlessly… From the other side. Otherwise I don't see how Ginevra bloody Weasley had managed it when I fucking didn't!"

McGonagall held her palms up. "Fine. Fine. No need to raise your voice. It is strange, I agree, but it is also entirely possible that at some point over the years Albus invented some sort of trick or two for apparition and whatnot and showed them to Harry. Have you thought of that?" 

Severus froze for a second. His mind frantically thought through the possibility of it all being Dumbledore's fault, but couldn't reach a definite conclusion. Dumbledore was smart and knowledgeable, that wasn't even up for a discussion, and a month ago Severus would have been reasonably satisfied with Minerva's suggestion. Hell, it probably would have been his suggestion to start with. Now, though… Potter's behaviour was too out of the ordinary for it to be a result of a learned trick.

On the other hand, it was Potter, for Merlin’s sake… His arrogance knew no bounds. 

"That's not all," Severus continued, pouring himself another one. He should really eat something. "I went to his house today. At least I assume it was his house."

"Whatever do you mean? As far as I'm aware, he's living at Grimmauld Place," interrupted Minerva, looking at the half-empty bottle disapprovingly. "We really should be eating something…" 

Severus only huffed. "I thought so too. In fact, he told me that himself. But when I apparated there, I was met by that grumpy old little shit Kreacher who didn't even let me set one foot inside.." 

"He kicked you out?! I never liked that elf much." 

"Would you listen? No. He apparated me to another location where, apparently, your Golden boy lives." McGonagall's eyebrows flew up to the hairline, but she remained blissfully silent. "I've never seen that house." 

"It could be one of Albus' safe houses." 

"I doubt it. The place has no wards around it. Not a single one. Not everybody is caught yet, therefore that foolish boy is still in danger, but lives in a completely unprotected house. The idiot. It's not the most important part, however."

"Then what is? Stop beating around the bush, for fuck’s sake."

"He's much older than we thought. Around thirty, seems like. At least he looks like it."

There was a moment of silence. 

"Come again…"

"The Harry Potter I met several hours ago looks about thirty years old. Possibly older. He's covered in scars, and overall seems more like Moody than Potter, despite any possible physical likeness with his dear daddy."

"Impossible…" 

"Nonetheless, it's true." 

Another long moment of silence followed, while McGonagall thought through the latest revelation. Severus drank one more glass of Ogden’s and then tried to wandlessly open the old fridge, but nothing happened. He made two more fruitless attempts, growing more and more frustrated by the second. His control over himself was slipping away with a scary speed. 

"Side-along me there." 

"What?" Severus got so focused on his worries over his drunken state that he almost forgot what he blabbed. Goddamn Potter. 

"No." 

"And why the hell not?"

"I'm half-drunk, can't you see? Besides, going to him today is a very bad idea either way," he mumbled and got up to open the bloody fridge by hand. He must’ve still had something in there.

McGonagall sighed loudly. "Fine. What did you do though? You lost your temper and pissed him off, didn't you?" 

Severus returned to the table, holding a plate with old cheese. He almost started ranting about the arrogant, ungrateful brat being his typical idiotic self again, but remembered his earlier thoughts on the matter and changed his mind. 

"What would you have done in my place?" He sat down heavily. "I did not expect anything even remotely close to that." 

"Who are you trying to fool? You would've reacted the same way even if you were warned beforehand. You always react this way where Potter is concerned, no matter what's going on."

"Yes, because the bloody dunderhead is always trying to undermine me in every possible way."

"Really?" 

"Yes!"

"You're the only one who sees it, Severus, and you know it." 

Severus forced himself not to snap at her. "Do you really think he's twice older than he should be? There's no way it could be true. He has to have been using a time turner for longer than he even knew that magic existed for it to be possible. It must've been some sort of stupid trick of his. There's no other explanation."

Why didn’t he think of that option before?..

Minerva took a deep breath, and then stared at him with a new sort of determination, gleaming in her eyes. It did not promise anything good.

"I don't know. I doubt anyone knows. What you told me is strange, but there has to be an explanation besides ‘it's a stupid trick’. He's not a Weasley-twin, not a prank person. In all six years, I've never seen him involved in one." Severus huffed. "Regardless, if what you saw is not all smoke and mirrors — and you can't deny that where Dumbledore is concerned, nothing is completely impossible — him being older only lends more weight to my words. I have no idea what's going on, but no matter what happened with Harry, he's been acting a perfect picture of maturity these weeks. You know that. You saw it with your own eyes. I think that if you give him a chance, you'll find yourself fairly surprised. Besides," she sighed. "The boy has real influence now, Severus. If anything, he could be a great asset to you."

"What the hell are you leading to, woman?"

McGonagall paused for a few moments and then fired.

"You’re aware, I hope, that technically you still are the Headmaster."

All alcohol-induced warmth instantly evaporated from Severus’ mind. 

"No."

"No… What do you mean 'no'?! Severus! Why?" 

The fuck if he knew. Ever since his trial, he was debating whether to refuse the position or not. He would go mad alone in this house… He would need somebody to constantly tug him out of it, because as the last week showed, otherwise he would hole up in the lab and find a thousand reasons not to move. In the castle, however, he would not be with only McGonagall for company…

"I can do something else." 

Minerva snorted.

"And what would it be, Severus? Lock yourself up in your basement among cauldrons, stirs, and nasty smelling concoctions for the rest of your life? Big fat good it'd do you!"

Damn that woman to hell and back! Maybe she's right… Maybe returning to Hogwarts as a headmaster wouldn't be that bad, after all. He could just bury himself under piles of paperwork in the office and see cheeky stupid faces of students only from afar at dinners. Besides, Severus never really knew life outside of the school. What would he do instead? Brew potions twenty-four-seven at Spinner's End all by himself, like she said? He was so tired of being alone. Hogwarts, though… So many bad memories. And worse. 

"Can you even imagine how hard it would be to walk in those doors again, Minerva? To look at the faces of innocent children and see there only fear and hatred because I spent last year condoning their torture? Or to look at the faces of once colleagues and maybe occasional friends and see only hatred and disgust? Could you do it? Maybe you consider it all good and fun, but I assure you I do not."

“I understand that—”

“Do you?” Severus raised an eyebrow. 

“Well, maybe I can’t imagine how exactly that feels, but I can understand that it must be far, far from pleasant, so don’t you give me that look,” huffed McGonagall. “But you see, Severus, the problem is, I don’t think it’s going to be that way. At least it doesn’t have to, if we do everything right. If you agree to return, you — I mean yourself and the rest of the stuff — will have this whole summer to make amends to each other. I have already spoken with Filius, Pomona, Horace, and Hagrid yesterday, they feel as much hatred towards you as I do. Hagrid couldn’t stop crying for a good hour, the gentle soul. Convincing the rest of them would not be very hard, I’m sure, and even if it would… If somebody doesn't want to work with you, then… well. Nobody is irreplaceable. With stu—”

“Seriously?” Severus couldn’t believe his ears.

“What?”

For a moment Severus considered voicing his thoughts, but quickly changed his mind. It would make him look like a stupid insecure teenager who has difficulties believing that somebody might actually choose him. 

“Nothing,” he shook his head slightly. Minerva sighed, annoyed, but continued.

“As I was saying, with students it would be harder, of course, but when they see how many good changes you no doubt will make in the school, when they’ll feel the other professors’ support of you, they will accept you. I am absolutely convinced of that. You are not a monster, Severus. You can act like one, certainly, but in your heart you are a great man. We all have a lot to learn from you.”

What a pile of nauseatingly sentimental shit… 

“They know me as a dark wizard, Minerva. A dark, cruel, and biased bastard that I am . It’s not going to change.”

“No, it is, Severus. It is going to bloody change. You’ve lived through a biased headmaster and learned your lesson. You’ll just have to make sure that everybody knows it, and I will gladly help you.” McGonagall stated fiercely. “I’ve learned that lesson too.” They were silent for a few moments. “Besides, you’re not the only one who’s thought of this little problem, our previously mentioned now mutual young friend did too, I’m sure, and if you do things right, would do his best to improve the general public’s opinion of you, which will help tremendously.”

“For fuck’s sake, not with Potter again… I've already had enough of that—” Severus cut himself before saying something he would undoubtedly regret later. “…Of him for several lifetimes. And don't you call him my friend… I don't want him involved in this in any way or form.”

“Why not? Don’t be stupid, Severus. I was joking, nobody’s forcing you to befriend the boy or whoever he is and go around holding autograph sessions together. Are you a Slytherin or not, for Merlin's sake? After everything you’ve done for him over the years — I'm sure nobody even knows the real extent of your help — and after all that, it’s high time he started being useful to you as well. The trial was a good start, but only a start. It’s your whole future at stake. Don't let the opportunity of a lifetime slip because of this absolutely ridiculous, childish, pointless, endless, ignominious feud of yours! I swear to you — on anything you want — that he’s not actually that bad. At the end of the day, he’s decent, he’s quick, he’s smart. Yes, not book-smart, like Miss Granger is, but he is smart. Life has taught him a cruel lesson, Severus. Just like it taught you. If Harry Potter finally has opened his eyes on the situation and wants to help, wouldn't it be worth the trouble? Isn't your life worth some fleeting moment of a hurt pride? He has means and power. Let him help. You’re a young and extraordinarily brilliant man, Severus, you need to go out there and live, doing many extraordinarily brilliant things, not hide around mama’s basements.”

"You really do think he'll help me, don't you? Even after today?"

"And how exactly what happened today differs from what was happening for six years almost on a daily basis?" 

"It differs significantly. Back then I treated him badly, I admit, but he wasn't trying to win my approval either. Now he basically offered me a truce, made a real step towards it even, and I basically attempted to rip him a new one as a ‘thank you’."

"Then go back there and apologise. Act like an adult, like you actually deserve the respect that you demanded of him all this time." 

"No."

"Yes." 

"No." 

"Yes.”

“I won’t go there, period.”

“Why are you being such a fool, Severus?! I guarantee you, he’s not going to humiliate you, if that’s what this is about. He’s better than that, better than you think.”

" Stop saying that! I've memorised it already." 

"Then what the heck is the problem?"

Severus inhaled, preparing to declare his excruciatingly long list of what could potentially go wrong with this, but something stopped him. His logical side screamed that it was Potter who made that first step towards the truce, not the other way around. And it wasn't even his help at the trial, as one might think, it was earlier, when, standing in one of the Hogwarts halls under the invisibility cloak and knowing that he was looking at the traitor and murderer, he did nothing. So things might go differently.

Severus sat frozen, staring at McGonagall and thinking hard. She indeed was right, damnit. It was his whole life at stake. Didn’t he promise himself to try and make it worth living? Who cared if he’d have to use Potter in some way to accomplish that… As for the rest of it, she also had a point — for a start, familiarity of the school and the job would make things easier, so why not? Nobody said that he should be shackled in that office till death’s door, right? This whole Potter issue was a setback, certainly… But not so big as to pass up the opportunity to rebuild his life.

“Fine. You win.”

Minerva beamed at him and squeezed his hand.

“Thank you, Severus,” she whispered happily. “You promise to go to Harry tomorrow then?”

“I do.”

And more the fool he was.

“Great. I’m glad to hear it. Do let me know how everything went down, alright?” she asked, standing up. Severus nodded.

“Great. So… I’ll be going then, it’s becoming really late. There are a few things concerning the school that we need to discuss as soon as possible, though, so owl me when you get back tomorrow.”

Severus agreed and walked her back to the fireplace. After a short goodbye,  McGonagall flooed back to her house, but Severus remained where he stood, just staring at the strange dance of the small flames. He felt empty. He looked around the old room which remained almost exactly the same as it was since the day it was built, and the room looked back. Every corner reminded Severus of his childhood. Behind this age-old armchair he used to hide when he was small. On this lumpy couch his father slept when he was too drunk to climb the stairs to his bedroom. This rug was nearly see-through and had an odd brown-ish-grey colour because of how often his mother tried to wash numerous stains of blood and vomit out of it. Mother's favourite curtains, bulky and ancient as life itself, that were hanging on this very spot for as long as he could remember himself, almost always were tightly closed — he didn’t even remember the last time they were open. Probably some time around his mother’s death over twenty years ago. The left one was badly torn when Severus was around five. Father lost yet another job, came back pissed out of his skull, and destroyed half of the room in a fit of violence. The memory of his mother’s silent sobs while she sat hunched on the couch and tried to mend the curtain by hand was forever engraved in Severus’ mind. She used thread of the wrong colour and the uneven stitching was still visible. On this yellowish windowsill he once cracked his skull, trying to get out of the way of his father’s beloved broken broom handle. This tiny side-table was smashed by his own back so many times, it could barely hold its own weight. It stood empty for the last twenty-five or so years. Behind this bookcase was a spot on the wall with torn out wallpaper. This was where his father finally managed to deliver his last and the most damaging blow to his mother’s head… The memory about her slowly sliding down to the floor, about the dark blood trail on the wall, about the accusation and pain forever imprinted in her eyes haunted him still.

Severus didn't know how much time had passed as he stood there frozen, but eventually he jolted awake, picked up the half-finished bottle from the kitchen table, and walked out of the house on some sort of autopilot. He could not breathe in that place.

The streets were dark and somewhat chilly. Severus wandered for quite some time, trying to calm his frenzied mind and return his thoughts to some semblance of order, but without much success. Then he remembered the bottle that still was clutched in his hand and took a swing. It helped a little. He took another swing. It helped a little more. And then he sat down on some bench and didn't get up until the bottle was empty, not particularly caring about the picture he presented to the occasional passersby. Locals were long used to it, and those who weren’t, were not locals, therefore, as a general rule, were somewhere else.

Firewhiskey hit him in the head, really hit him for the first time in many years, and his head said 'thank you'. An indefinite amount of time later — it was dark, that was all Severus knew, — with his mind just as blissfully empty as the bottle, he apparated home, not even bothering to check whether or not he was alone.

A pair of green eyes that watched him from a distance lazily blinked, and then silently disappeared into the night.

* * *