Thirty one plus one by Hopeless Wanderer

-If there was anything I found more awkward than crying on Snape in a muggle car in an abandoned alley late at night while it was raining, I couldn’t remember it then.

The glory of letting my emotions taking over me only lasted about five minutes before I realized where I was and what I was exactly doing. Instead of tears, shame trickled down my face and turned it into a red hue that was eerily similar to Ron’s hair.

“Are you feeling better?” Snape asked me after my sobs died down and I sunk back in my seat.

When I didn’t answer, he cleared his throat. “I think there should be some paper tissues here somewhere…” the man twisted his waist to check the backseat as if trying to prove his point.

Sniffling, I wiped the snot and excess tears with the sleeve of my sweater. “It’s fine.” I hoarsely assured the man.

Snape wrinkled his nose. “Potter that’s disgusting.”

I glared at the man with red rimmed eyes. “This is a really hard time for me you know, please cut me some slack.”

“I don’t care if you’re dying right now; wipe your snot with a handkerchief,” the man dryly responded, reaching into his pocket. “Here, take this.”

I reached for the silky black handkerchief and pathetically blew my nose, still wiping my face with my fingers, under Snape’s disapproving glare.

“I told you to…” the man sighed irritatingly. “Forget it. You can keep that.” he nodded his chin at the snot covered silky black tissue.

We sat in a dimmed silence for what seemed like hours, the gentle sound of rain pattering against the windshield built a very vulnerable wedge between us, one that I was more than eager to sustain as long as possible.

“Have you ever talked about Black or Lupin with anyone?” Snape finally asked, his hand on the wheels, and his fingers tensed around the car keys.

I frowned. “I’m not going to talk to /you/ about it.”

Even though the awkwardness seemed bleak and unavoidable, I guess I was mostly relieved that Snape thought this was about Sirius and Remus. He wasn’t wrong though, this was partially about my godfathers; the dead and the absent, but it was also about me.

I feared that Severus was right and the glory was wearing off. I feared it from the morning I woke up and wished I could be over this already and die in peace. I felt like I was painstakingly accomplishing a chore.

I didn’t want my list to be a chore, if they made me want to die.

Death wishes were for past, suffering Harry. Not me.

Severus raised an expectant eyebrow as the silence dragged on, while I was busy maintaining my demeanor, I still felt like I needed a good cry. The sadness bulged in my throat and demanded to be let out. “Sir.” I hastily choked, baffled.

“Why is that?” Snape pushed and I sighed. “I assumed /someone/ must have talked with you regarding Black’s… demise.” He started the car.

“And Remus’s ignorance.” I murmured, putting my foot up the glove compartment. My throat bobbed repeatedly as I tried to swallow the urge to sob one time after the other. I knew that bottling my feelings couldn’t be very healthy, but I also knew that I needed some privacy to sort things out first. I needed the privacy I had in the infirmary to have a good cry over Remus.

I felt bitterness flood into my mouth, and roll under my tongue. I despised it. I despised the feeling with every fiber of my being because it proved my selfishness and insensitivity to none other than myself.

It is something many people come to realize, when there comes a point in life when the only person who knows your true personality is yourself. Bare and without a mask, without the burden of normality, or judgment. You look at yourself and you realize that you are the person you hate most, because you’re the only one who sees the darkness.

That’s how I often felt when I thought about Remus.

Severus obliviously mistook my bitterness for longing and not detestation.

“I could ask for him,” he offered tensely, clearly struggling to keep the disgust at bay. “If you feel the need to have some closure.” He mouthed the word as if it was alien to him, and I almost laughed, because in that moment, I knew, the word ‘closure’ was as alien to me as it was to him.

“I don’t want closure.” I admitted, hastily drying my damp eyes when he wasn’t looking. “I ache for craving something that I could never have. Remus hated the fact that I killed his best friend and potential lover, and I hated the fact that he was right.”

I didn’t sympathize with Remus because I was under similar prediction, because I wasn’t. Back then my attraction to Hermione was nothing more than a slight crush a fellow boy feels for their best female friend, but even back then, I didn’t need to directly sympathize with the man to know his pain.

I lost someone I held very dear in my heart too; maybe not in the same way, but losing Sirius hit me even harder than it had hit Remus. Remus knew how it felt, he had already lost my parents before, and he moved on (albeit reluctantly). However, I hadn’t, the pain was fresh for me and as much as I needed his comforting embrace, I regrettably understood his harsh words and the reasoning behind his distance.

I hated myself for it; I was the one who was dying, I was getting punished and having two tumors in my head would have been way worse than any other punishment I could imagine (aside from being tortured), and in my hazed and delirious mind that was reason enough for Remus to come back to me.

But again, I knew, deep down in my heart, that Remus deserved to have his own ‘closure’. Staying as far away from me as humanly possible.

“Did he specifically blame you?” Snape bit out form his pressed lips; his eyes were fixated on the empty road ahead us.

My body went rigid. “Just to be clear, I’m not talking to you about my feelings.” The sound of tires sloshing water poodles and the mechanical sound of windscreen wipers filled the car; the rain started pouring the moment we got into the vehicle.

“But he didn’t need to; every spiteful word was accounted for instead.” I continued apathetically, adjusting my footing above the footwell.

“Typical for Lupin.” Severus commented indifferently.

“You don’t know him,” I accused the man angrily. “Don’t pretend that you understand his pain.” My heart squeezed and my throat tightened. “/I/ understand him, and I forgive him. I just hope he realizes that one day.” I said sincerely, gazing out of the foggy window.

“He’s playing hide and seek with a ticking bomb,” he said. “I don’t need to know him to judge him.”

I turned to the man. “So what? He should let me off the hook just ‘cause fate got to bite me first? I should let him take pity on me and grab my hand when I pass, just for him to turn away in /disgust/ after I died? I don’t want to live a lie!”

That was only partially true, as was everything with me.

I didn’t want to live my life with a lie. For as long as I could remember, I had been lied to, about the most trivial things, from my parent’s deaths to why I was so hated at my relative’s household. I loathed lies and yet, the same part of me that was repulsed was almost relieved by them.

Dursleys’ lies were just as comforting, as they were dismaying. As a child, I had no worries about where I stood with them, my parents died in a car crash, and I was the unwanted result of their irresponsibility and drinking problem, and left at their porch and for the Dursleys to deal with and I was mostly fine with that.
Living with a rational lie was way better than living with the truth, so maybe living a lie with Remus wouldn’t have been that bad.

“Lupin doesn’t hate you enough to be disgusted by you.” Snape says after a long pause, we were almost halfway to the cottage.

I nodded in agreement, feeling calmer. I really agreed with him. “He’s in a state of decathect, doesn’t mean he hates me.”

Sev looked puzzled at my choice of words but didn’t press. As he drove, the rain got heavier as well, filling in the holes on the gravel road and drumming against the windows.

“What time is it?” I asked warily, watching the blurry stormy waves from afar. The volatile sea unsettled me. I had the strange urge to curl in my seat, cocoon myself in a thick blanket and wish that Snape just kept on driving. Driving until the car could not take us any further. It was a strange feeling.

“It must be a little after midnight.”

After a pause, my brain felt the need to state the obvious. “I’m really tired,”

“We shouldn’t have stayed.” I added lamely and the man nodded, noting my puffy eyes and the tired haze fogging my stare and followed my eyes back to the road ahead.

The road was a stretched one-way gravel lane that only had enough space for one car to pass at the time; it stumped me to see it so vacant. There must at least be more than one car out at night, even with the rain. I just wished to see another car, or see Snape drive past one, just so I knew that my isolation wasn’t as literal as I thought. It made everything more miserable.

I would have gone insane if I only had two bitter anglers to talk to every two weeks. Snape and fish could only entertain me so much.

As if on cue, the man promptly pressed down on the gas pedal and glanced over my head, out of the fogged window. “Do you miss Lupin, Potter?” he asked blankly. “Be honest.”

“Of course I miss him.” my throat bobbed again.

“What of Black?” I silently stared at the man with wide eyes, my heart violently jerked. My hands dropped on my chest as if trying to keep the frantic organ back in my chest.

_‘One day,’ Sirius said when we settled down on the grimy floor after my trial, in August earlier last year. ‘We’d all be a big family. You, me and the rest of us.’ Swirls of smoke danced above us, and Sirius looked almost glad that we were alone; Mrs. Weasley didn’t like it when he smoked and she wasn’t exactly a quiet woman.

‘We are already a family, Padfoot.’ I assured him, squeezing his knee; we were almost the same height when we were sitting and leaning against his family tree tapestry.

Sirius snorted, puffing out the smoke as he lowered his cigarette. ‘Oh kiddo, you have no idea.’

Snape threw me a sideway glance, his gaze flickering back to the road when a soundless lighting shortly lit up the road.

“What about him?” I asked, clearing my throat. That blasted memory was still at the forefront of my mind, so vividly, that I felt like I could smell the stale odor of cigarettes and feel Sirius’ warmth near me in the car.

Snape stayed silent for a whole minute. He looked uncomfortable with the topic and so was I. I knew that if he brought up Sirius’s death, he would expect me to cry and trash around, judging by my earlier display in that pub. To be frank, I was hanging on by a thread too; the desire to cry made my throat ache and my head to throb under the sheer pressure.

Two bright red spots crept up my cheeks. I internally apologized to Sirius and let the silence build up the tension in the air.

“How do you feel about his death?”

The spots grew bigger and expanded across my cheeks. The duel between Malfoy and Sirius, his bitter glare and that excitement gleaming in his eyes when he fought with the blonde haired death eater, it all flooded my mind.

He seemed so happy to be out of that bloody house, so glad to be helping me get out of trouble. It made his death painfully ironic.

“We just talked about Lupin.” Severus urged when I didn’t answer. I didn’t feel encouraged by the man’s openness. Still, I was shifting my focus on myself, and so didn’t think much of it.

“Potter, we need to talk about what happened.”

“I had a meltdown,” my voice shook. I stared Snape square in the eyes. “What does this have to do with Sirius or Remus?”

“I think you feel guilty.” He replied at once, his expression carefully blank.

I opened and closed my mouth, leaning back in the seat when nothing came to my mind as a defense. His opinion was odd and misplaced, but not untrue. Just because I didn’t grieve my godfather, didn’t mean that I didn’t feel guilty for killing him. I really wished Snape stopped talking about them though.
“I also think that’s why you’re not indulging yourself as you should have these past few weeks.”

He was wrong. I physically couldn’t keep myself afloat, because day after day, the sight, the feelings… everything lost its appeal. Guilt might have played a hand in it, but I was fairly sure my inabilities were mainly my own fault.

“By all means, keep ignoring me,” Snape continued. “But at least listen; Lupin’s childish gap in judgment or Black’s stupidity should not ruin your life. Your lives are separate, their death or ignorance shall not affect yours the way it is now.”

Shaking my head, I completely turned my body to face the window. I knew exactly where this conversation was going; if Snape was pitying me enough to pull out the ‘it’s not your fault card’ then I really must have looked bad when I cried. Next, the potion master was going to say ‘This is just a phase Potter’ you don’t actually have depression and this is all, the cancer messing around with your head.

Snape, adamant on getting me to talk, and assured that the road was safe enough, turned and stared at my back. “I’d rather doubt it that Black would somehow come to life to tell you this himself, so I’d just cut the chase; yes, you were guilty of rushing into a dangerous situation, and of endangering your and your friend’s lives.” He paused morosely. “But you aren’t guilty of killing Black. Don’t shoulder someone else’s sin out of misery.”

“Whose?” I crocked out, accusingly staring at him over my shoulder.

“What do you mean?” the man frowned in confusion.

“Shoulder whose sin? Bella’s? Sirius’s? Tom’s?” Yours? I thought venomously.

“Anyone’s.”

“Why do you care anyways?” I suddenly asked him, frowning. “You /hated/ him, you /hated/ me. Why do you suddenly care?”

The man scoffed as if I was telling a bad joke. “This is not about caring Potter, don’t overestimate your importance. It’s common sense.”

“If it was common sense you would have let me stay in that pub.” I retorted. “You lie constantly.” I said reproachfully.

“No I don’t.” the man denied.

“Yes you do, it’s like you have to. I hate that, I hate it when people pretend to care.”

“Do you know why I miss them?” I swallowed painfully. “Because they didn’t lie to me like you do. They never would have done any of this out of pity, they would have brought the world for me in a heartbeat, and I destroyed that.”

“And now you can’t learn to swim as a result.” Sev sneered. My eyes blazed and I pressed my lips tightly in a white line. I didn’t like the way he was talking to me about Remus and Sirius, especially after talking on their behalves.

“Wow, you really understand me.”

“Sarcasm doesn’t become a Gryffindor, Potter,” the man warned somberly. “What do you want me to do? Return you to Hogwarts?”

Frustrated with the man and myself I crossed my arms. “I-I don’t know...but, I know that things cannot go on like this. With you acting so cynical, dishonest, miserable and dutiful.” As if I’m a burden, I thought dejectedly. That gut wrenching feeling that I got when Snape entered the classroom, or whenever he loomed over my cauldron was back, crashing into my chest and into my pounding heart.

Snape looked absolutely livid, all of his careful gentle demeanor was gone and his hands clenched were clenched in anger after my accusations. I could tell that I had angered the man somehow.

“Pardon me if I’m not Lupin, or Black to satisfy your juvenile needs, Potter.” Severus growled out, his eyes fixated ahead. “If you wanted to find a mentor to look up to, you made the wrong turn. That’s what I’m trying to get you to understand; I will never be the father figure you are supposedly searching for, and you keep treating me like one.”

“You’re doing a horrible job at talking about my feelings.” I said quietly. I was determined to pointedly ignore the twinge of hurt in my chest.

The man threw me a filthy glare. I only looked ahead without catching his eye. “Well I’m sorry that this trip isn’t rainbows and sunshine Potter, and sorry for not being a cuddly canine to get you through the hardships of dying. Life isn’t fair, deal with It.” finally I couldn’t handle it anymore, I mustered up my most hateful expression and turned to the man, my chest was tight with the need to supply air for my body but my tense manner couldn’t make room for air.

“If you were going to be a douche about it,” I hissed. “Then why did you even ask me in the first place? Better yet, why did you go through all this trouble to get me to talk about my feelings and then shut me down when I actually did?” I realized that I was breathing heavily at the end of my rant, and Snape looked speechless. I had never seen that expression on his face before and that made me feel much better. To have him look as vulnerable as I was feeling.

“What? Did I just stun you into silence?”

Snape abruptly stopped the car in the middle of the road. “This discussion is over.”

I sprung to the edge of my seat. “But I just said…”

He cut me off. “You called me a liar.”

“I didn’t lie, you are a liar sir.”

“Potter.” he growled out threateningly.

I conceded, drawing my knees to my chest. “Not a liar, no, just dishonest, it’s like you’re always fighting with yourself.”

Snape tried to regain his posture. “Stop analyzing me Potter.”

“That’s exactly what you were doing now, or was that thing about not feeling guilty horse poop?”

“You were being disrespectful and dishonest.” He bit out.

“So were you.” I retaliated heatedly.

“We don’t get attached Potter. You were right; I apologize for intruding in your private life or giving you the impression that I somehow cared about Black or Lupin’s fate.” Snape huffed, drumming his fingers on the wheel. “Feel free to keep things to yourself from now on.”

Eyeing him suspiciously, I unfolded my legs and leant back. “What is this, some reverse psychology trick?”

“Are you playing games?” Snape shook his head, still looking angry at some degree.

“No, I just made a grave mistake. Your personal life is out of my business, we’re both on a mission. That’s all there is to our relationship, we can go back now, if you want to.” The moment he said this I felt everything stop; even the raindrops drumming on the windows paused, none of us breathed, the air stilled and my face contorted into an expressionless statue.

“You want to go back to the pub?” I repeated numbly, the statement coming out more like a question. “To let me get drunk?”

“I could talk with the manager,” the man said slowly. “Explain the situation. If that’s really what you need. I can rent you a room there as well and come collect you in the morning.” My face didn’t change but there was a hurricane going on inside my head. I was hyperaware of everything around us, and that only agitated me more. How dare he? I thought to myself.

“You could talk with the manager.” I repeated. There was a swirl of indignation mixed with my otherwise blank tone.

Snape carefully scrutinized my figure before nodding. “Yes, surely he understands that you are a special case.”

I snorted in disbelief, and finally let the utter /rage/ bleed into my face. “You-y-you FUCKING BASTARD!” before his hand could grasp my arm; I threw the door open and darted out of the car, bending under the heavy rush of rain. I didn’t wait for Snape to call out and immediately started walking.

“Potter!” Snape called out from the car.

I tore my blurry glasses away from my face and flipped him off.

“YOU’RE A SELFISH PIG!” I yelled over my shoulder.

“Get back in the car you idiotic boy!”

“What are you playing at?! Hmm? One minute you’re rubbing my back and telling me it’s alright and then you don’t care?!”

“Potter. Get back. In the car. That’s an order.”

“Duck your orders and Duck your rules!” I hollered heatedly.

“Oh merlin, Potter you’re going to get sick.”

I sniffled pathetically, not even attempting to stop the tears from running down my face. “You are a hypocrite, Snape.”

“I’m not sure if the roles are reversed yet.” The man dryly informed me, his figure flickering with the rain. I could barely make his body out of the car without my glasses, but he wasn’t moving towards me, so that was good.

“You-you talked about Sirius and how all our lives are separate, you told me not to feel guilty and then you straight out told me you didn’t care anyways.” My voice hitched. “You basically told me to duck myself by taking me back to that bloody pub and leaving me there! Like I’m some trash!”

“I just realized I was making a mistake by implying otherwise.” Snape snapped, his voice laced with venom.

“Yeah! You’re right. Because anyone as stone hearted as you can never understand how I’m feeling. You couldn’t possibly understand how it feels to care about someone and then kill them.” I cried, and sobbed and I wanted to run away and hide somewhere safe. I wanted to smell the stale cigarettes that hung to Sirius’s clothes. To feel Remus’s soft jumper under my hands when he hugged me and told me everything was fine. I didn’t want to stand under the rain and argue with Snape.

“You’re right Potter; I’m a monster, a liar and a cheat. Now get back inside the car before someone hits you.” I snorted, shivering like a leaf, as if anyone would be out here in the middle of nowhere!

“You’re an h-horrible person!” I yelled, turning away from the car. “You never understood!” without the glasses, and the car’s lights I could barely see a thing. The frightening image in front of me was just a the dark road ahead and I couldn’t see.

“Then make me understand Potter. In the car.” Snape’s voice seemed closer, so I assumed he must have fully gotten away from that blasted car. I hated feeling as blind as I was then, to only see nothing ahead. Feel nothing but cold. I was panicking.

“You and you rules, you and your lies. I hate you, I really do and there’s no way that I’m apologizing to you tomorrow morning.”
I had to apologize the next morning.

Almost out of nowhere my stomach clenched and I was doubling over on the road, retching.

Snape slammed the driver’s door shut and raced to my side, but I was too busy throwing up to be angry with him anymore.

Tears circled in my eyes and I tried to swallow the burning bile but Snape’s hand darted to my back, firmly rubbing circles as he crouched next to me.

“No Potter, let it come out.” I stopped listening to his voice and clenched my eyes shut, rain viciously stroke my back in accomplice with Snape’s hand. I batted at the hand, shaking my head. So much for not caring, I thought snidely.

“Just relax, it’d be over soon.” No it wasn’t. I stayed there on the ground for so long that by the time Snape could drag me up, my knees felt like jelly and I was sure I had no innards left to bring up.

My insides burned, my mouth tasted acidic and vaguely of the lousy digested meal I had, my hands shook, but only in panic. This shouldn’t be happening, I thought wildly.

“Let’s get you into the car.” Severus’ arm circled my soaked figure and he half dragged me to the car, with its engine silently buzzing, and lights flickering under the rushing water.

He buckled me in and then got in himself, almost frantically steering the wheel as he speeded down the road.

“Merlin.”

“Stay calm Potter, and tell me if you need me to pull over again.” Snape’s eyes were fixated on the road; our speed was considerably more noticeable than before. It seemed like even the windscreen wipers were lurching back and forth more urgently than before.

“It could have been the food. Maybe the meal was too heavy to digest.” Sev reasoned.

I was still too frightened of the familiar heaving in my guts and mindful of the taste in my mouth to answer him.

“Or the stress. Your mo… people, usually vomit when they’re stressed.” He said as he fiddled with the heater. My hair stood in thin strayed ropes and some were plastered to my face as I shivered in my stained seat.

“I’m fine.” My freezing cold hand darted on his and forcefully moved it away from the heater. Severus threw a filthy look at my hand and whacked it away.

“Just lean back and close your eyes Potter, we’d be there in less than five minutes.”

“I’m sorry; I got it all over your clothes.” I whizzed out, shivering.

“And yourself.” The man noted quietly. “It’s alright; I’ll take care of the laundry. You should rest as soon as we got back.”

“Was it the cancer?” I was almost afraid to hear the answer, knowing that, it would be the last straw if it were. It couldn’t possibly be that, they assured me that the potion would take care of all physical symptoms. As far as I was concerned, puking my guts out was considered a physical symptom as far as my innards were concerned...

“It shouldn’t be. Hush now Potter.” Snape relentlessly speeded down the road and I groaned, closing my eyes and wrinkling my nose. The car smelled awful.

“We cannot go on like this, this is terrible.” I complained dizzily. Snape rolled his eyes and dialed down the heater to spare us the horrible smell.

“Settle down or you’ll throw up again.”

“I’m going to die.” I whimpered.

Severus actually rolled his eyes. “Stop being so dramatic. No one is dying, you had a heavy meal and you were stressed, and clearly, your body couldn’t handle that.”

“No I am. I’m only alive for another four months, Snape, and that’s even if I’m lucky.”

“This isn’t really the time for observations Potter. Keep calm.”

I got his handkerchief out of my soiled pocket and blew my nose. “I don’t want to fight with you, if we’re going to do /this/, then we either do it together or we won’t do it at all.”

“Rest for now.”

When we got to the cottage the rain had completely evaporated, the waves were bigger and more forceful than I had ever seen them though, and that made me avoid the view when Snape helped me out of the car.

“Is Hedwig home yet?” I asked anxiously, eyeing the cloudy sky. I was feeling a bit better after Snape rolled down the windows. The fresh air wasn’t doing any good to my soaked figure, but at least it prevented any further accidents and I was unspeakably grateful for that.

Snape nudged me towards the porch. “She’s an owl Potter, she’s fine.”

He got me settled on the frayed loveseat, wrapped me up in a thick duvet and ordered me to take off my dirty clothes.

Hastily, I flushed in shame and shrugged out the vomit covered sweater, followed by my stained jeans, Dudley’s white undershirt and my dignity.

Snape never peaked at my disgustingly lanky physique, but swiftly got rid of his own shirt. He went to the kitchen with the bundle of clothes and I heard a sharp hiss, followed by the smell of burnt.

My eyes widened. Did Snape just burn those clothes?!

“Don’t come in here!” Snape yelled as if in cue. I sank back in my seat in shock.

“Did you burn them?!” I yelled indignantly. The man emerged from the hallway and strode to the living room, shrugging his wand back in his sleeve. He had a white towel draped over his arm.

“Here,” he said, ignoring my question. “Dry your hair; we don’t need you to get a cold. Then sleep.”

“You burnt my clothes.” I repeated accusingly, not reaching out to get the towel. Severus gave me an unimpressed look and dumped the dishtowel on my hair. He ruffled my hair dry with the cloth, and I did not like it. Not in the slightest.

“I needed those!” Snape tugged at my hair, thoroughly scrubbing my scalp. A chilly breeze blew through the open window and I shivered, huddling further into the duvet.

“I didn’t think it would be sanitary for you to wear them again, so I burnt them.” I gaped at the man. Those clothes were basically the best I had, the best Dudley had passed down as a hand me down, and I couldn’t just tell the man that. I couldn’t tell the potion master that I had only one decent outfit.

“You couldn’t just wash them?!” I seethed, instead. Severus paused his unsympathetic toweling and looked at me like I was insane.

“I would rather be found dead than wash your vomit covered clothes by hand, and you couldn’t wear them afterwards if they were cleansed by wand. Those rags were weeks away from being unusable anyways.” He said nonchalantly, withdrawing the towel.

“You cannot make those calls.” I muttered under my breath but didn’t protest again after Snape ushered me upstairs.

He stopped by the doorway with a bucket and another towel. “Here,” he handed me the bucket.

“Just in case.”

I was out like a light as soon as my head hit the pillow.

The next morning, I woke up with a horrible taste in my mouth, which scared me at first, because I thought I must have thrown up in my sleep or something, but then I remembered that I forgot to brush my teeth the night before and that just made me feel worse.

After lying around for an extra thirty minutes I finally heaved myself up and tottered to the bathroom. My teeth and half-assed shower took another twenty minutes before I was seated on the floor with Hitchhiker’s guide in my hands in an empty cottage.

Where was Snape? I sluggishly looked around.

I found his note on the kitchen table not long after searching around the cottage, written on a torn piece of parchment. His spidery scrawl looked barely readable, so the man must have been in a hurry.

I frowned, first inspecting the parchment and then smoothing my finger over the words.

“I will be back soon,” he said in the note. “I just needed to run some errands in Porlock. Do NOT get out of the cottage and more importantly, do NOT set foot in the water Potter. I would know if you had.” I read aloud, rolling my eyes at the man.

“So much for support.” Grumbling, I slumped down on one of the chairs.

The sound of a car approaching the cottage only came minutes after, making me surge to my feet.

Through the backdoor, I walked around the cottage and to the parked car, shielding my eyes from the brutal sunbeams only with my hand.
Snape got out of the car and opened the backseat doors without looking at me, and leant in.

“Snape?” I called. The man almost hit his head as he withdrew with a dozen of bags and a few brown paper bags snuggled in his arms.

He walked past me with a smirk. “Make yourself useful Potter, there are a few bags left in the car.”

“Did you rob a store?” I asked uncertainly, somewhat joking. Looking around the numerous bags left in the car, I turned to face the potion master in bewilderment.

“Stop the cheeky tone and hurry inside, I’m starving.”

“Why did you…?”

Snape huffed and pointedly nodded at the car.

“You either help me with those bags or there’s no muffin for you.”

“Did you say muffins?” my mouth watered at the mere mention of muffins. I hadn’t had those in ages, long before I was even diagnosed with cancer. My stomach grumbled in agreement.

Snape nodded with a straight face. “I thought so.”

I couldn’t stop myself, I laughed.

-Dear Remus, I did not address this letter to you as a way to get revenge or make you feel bad by the content. I just wanted you to know what really happened between Severus and I firsthand, and how much you matter to me, remember, you and Sirius, were once my everything.
I addressed the next letter to Ron, so if you ever needed to find out what happened next, you can ask him. He looked up to you just as I did. You were a good mentor Remus, and I bet you would have made an even greater father.

Take care of my key.

Love.

Harry.