The Elder Wand.
The Resurrection Stone.
Death's Cloak of Invisibility.
Three items that, when owned by a single master, shielded the master from Death itself.
A fairytale, perhaps.
Certainly a story told as fiction to children.
A tale of morality, a tale of not toiling in to unknown magic.
Only a fairytale.
Severus was not so similarly convinced.
Thursday, January 8
Since the night that Nymphadora introduced Severus to the tale that inspired the image Albus once drew on a letter to Gellert Grindewald, Severus had dedicated almost every waking hour to researching the lore behind it all.
He became a man obsessed. A dying man grasping on to a straw as intangible as smoke. The concept taunted Severus, and danced out of his reach as he stretched a hand out to snag it.
The Hallows.
The elder wand; gifted to the eldest brother. Unbeatable. Can only be passed on through murder.
The resurrection stone; gifted to the middle brother. It carried the ability to bring back the dead, but only in an incorporeal appearance.
And Death's cloak of invisibility. Infallible. Sensible. Protects the wearer from Death itself.
They sounded absurd, fantastical even for the fantasy world Severus resides in with flying broomsticks, dragons, and brave boys with swords, and yet...
Yet something about Harry's cloak continued to niggle at Severus' mind.
Had Albus not given Harry the cloak that once belonged to James? Why did Albus even have the cloak? Would it not have been better served with the Potter family? Perhaps James could have hidden his son beneath it when the Dark Lord arrived.
It sounded like something the adult James Potter would have done; handed the cloak to Lily and told her to hide herself and Harry beneath it. With a few silencing charms and quick use of a broomstick, which James certainly would have owned, at least two thirds of the family could have escaped that night.
So why did Albus have it?
Severus finally cracked and sent Harry a patronus, asking him to come to his office after his classes ended. Hopefully, Harry would have his cloak. If not, he would undoubtedly be able to summon it.
Arrogant brat.
When Harry arrived though, he did not appear to be in a pleasant mood, which did not bode well for Severus' obscure request he hoped to make to examine his Invisibility Cloak.
"I've only got maybe ten minutes," Harry scowled, throwing himself in the chair across from Severus at his desk. "I've got fuckin detention tonight."
"Do you?" Severus asked, surprised. Typically the other professors made a habit of informing Severus when Harry received detention. They were rare occurrences, yet appreciated by Severus all the same. The only one who had ever assigned Harry a detention without telling Severus had been...
"Sirius gave me detention," Harry said, sneering his godfather's name. "I bloody well forgot about it until Monday when he reminded me, in class, in front of everyone, that I had detention all week."
"Whatever for?" Outwardly, Severus was indignant on Harry's behalf at Black assigning him detention and embarrassing him by the reminder in front of his classmates. Inwardly though? Severus smirked and laughed to know that Black could never replace Severus in Harry's life, as much as he had once worried he would.
"Did- did he not tell you?" Harry asked slowly, suddenly ducking his head bashfully and peering at Severus through his fringe. "I thought... I thought he might?"
"He did not," Severus told him, quite curious now as to what Harry had done that was causing him to become so reticent when he typically had no qualms with bragging about his misdeeds to Severus.
"Er..." Harry chewed his lower lip in the disgusting way that Severus finally conceded on ever correcting in him. "Well... you remember that day I took Felix Felicis?"
How could Severus forget the day that apparently some off-handed comment of Harry's led Nymphadora to...
Well.
Somehow Harry's luck led Nymphadora to Severus' rooms where they renegotiated the terms of their friendship. And by that, Severus meant that Nymphadora told him in no uncertain terms that he was 'stuck with her' and he 'better get used to it'.
Which he had shockingly been doing.
Nymphadora was... persistent. And, as she said, such a show of persistence should be rewarded. If Nymphadora believed an adequate reward was a nearly thirty-six year old dungeon bat, then that was her problem, he supposed. He had attempted to warn her away, but the stubborn witch refused to see reason and Severus gave in to her advances. And it had not been unpleasant, so far. Severus believed that eventually Nymphadora would find a more suitable partner, and they would part ways, and it would perhaps be painful, but Severus was surely not someone Nymphadora envisioned a whole life with.
If Severus had a whole life ahead of him. Which, with the quest of the Hallows before him, he began to believe (foolishly and desperately hoped and prayed) that he did.
"I do," he answered Harry, focusing on the task at hand. "How did you manage to earn a weeks worth of detentions while you were the luckiest person in the castle?"
"I got them the morning after," Harry said. "I... er... well, I didn't stay at Hogwarts that night, exactly, I stayed with Fred at George's flat... and Sirius was a bit peeved over it, and then I might have said that I... shagged Fred."
Severus was suddenly struck with dual emotions quite strongly.
Irritated that the Brat-Who-Lived-To-Give-Severus-Heart-Failure had snuck out of the castle, illegally apparated himself to Diagon Alley, and had not bothered to even inform Severus that he had left. Even though there was an active war going on and Harry had a price on his head from both sides.
But also... Severus was pleased, in a peculiar way, that Harry had overcome that particular trauma in his life. Truthfully, Severus had worried that, despite Frederick's words stating otherwise, that the two of them would eventually separate due to Harry's sexual dysfunctions. Yet, it seemed as if—
"Wait- he what?!" Severus demanded, suddenly murderously furious with Frederick. "He had intercourse with you while you were obviously incapacitated?!"
Severus would kill him.
He would snap the boy's neck and toss him in a pit, never to be found.
"What? No!" Harry said quickly, shaking his head in denial. "I mean, er... I wanted to, but then Fred found out I had taken that potion and he... er... turned me down... until the next morning... when I wasn't high."
Oh.
Severus might still kill him anyway. Frederick could be quite irksome at times.
"Just to be absolutely clear, Harry, you consumed three times the normal portion of Felix Felicis and the ultimate goal it led you to was sex?" Severus asked skeptically.
Harry grinned and shrugged his shoulders. "Guess so," he said.
As chaotic as Harry was, as wrapped up and centrally located in a war as Harry was, it was oftentimes difficult to remember he was still a sixteen year old young man. Until moments such as that.
"Absurd," Severus told him. "You are truly absurd, child."
"Absurd and going to be late for detention," Harry glanced at his wristwatch. "Unless you could get me out of it?" he asked hopefully.
"I would not even if I could," Severus smirked. He was surprised, though not displeased, that Black punished Harry for his antics. Severus had been soft on Harry recently, overlooking his behavior as he preemptively mourned him. It was a small relief that someone else had picked up Severus' slack. "You deserved it," he told Harry truthfully. "I would have assigned much more than one week of detentions."
He wouldn't have. He should have, but Harry had a true knack for evading discipline from Severus through blatant favoritism.
A small measure of unfairness to balance all the unfairness that had been poured on the child's head since birth.
"Bastard," Harry scowled. He got to his feet and cocked his head at Severus. "Did you want something specific? Or just to hang out?"
"Something specific," Severus said. He had nearly forgotten his quest to inspect Harry's cloak until now in the face of Harry's admission. "Your invisibility cloak, if you would not mind loaning it to me for a short amount of time."
"Why?" Harry asked, instantly wary. "I need it."
"I would like to inspect it, I believe it could be quite valuable," Severus said smoothly, not a single lie in his words. "You have my word, Harry, that I will return it to you."
Harry reached in to his backpack and hesitantly pulled out his cherished heirloom. "You'll give it back? You aren't taking it cause you're mad about something?"
"I am not mad, and I will return it the moment I am finished with it," Severus assured him.
"'Kay... here." Harry handed him the silk woven purple cloak and then glanced at his watch again. "I gotta go, I'll see you Sunday?"
"Sunday," Severus agreed. "Have fun in detention."
Harry scowled again, causing Severus to chuckle a little, then quickly dashed off.
And Severus was left with a sense of pride so strong he nearly choked on it.
There had been a day, not so long ago, that Harry would have required nothing short of an Unbreakable Vow before he would leave a cherished possession with Severus. But not now. Now he trusted Severus when he told him he would return it.
Harry had grown and matured so much.
And, Severus slid the cloak between his fingers thoughtfully, perhaps he could continue to do so despite all odds.
Severus retired to his quarters to study Harry's cloak more carefully. At first glance, the cloak held no specific uniqueness that would indicate it to be such a powerful object. An adult sized cloak, roughly the size and shape of a large bed sheet. The material was purple, with interwoven strands of silver to give it a shimmering appearance. It seemed to be made of a fine silk, softer and more sturdy than even acromantula silk.
It was undoubtedly expensive, possibly entirely priceless, but it was not the material itself that made it so. It was the power it held that Severus had never questioned before.
Invisibility cloaks, even ones that cost more than the newest broomstick on the market, had a tendency to fade in their power after a time. Severus had never known of one to still offer entirely invisible properties after a decade or so, and yet this one was supposedly James Potter's before it was Harry's.
Where did James receive it from?
Severus moved the cloak out of sight and quickly ducked his head in his floo before he could change his mind.
"Remus Lupin's office, Moon Lodge."
It took the wolf only a moment to notice Severus' head in his fire and to approach his floo with a quizzical expression.
"Severus? Is everything alright?"
"Fine," Severus said curtly. "James Potter, he owned an Invisibility Cloak, correct? A purple silk one?"
"Yes?" Lupin said slowly. "Why?"
"Never mind that," Severus snapped. "Where did he receive it from?"
Lupin rubbed the scruff on his chin thoughtfully as his eyes went unfocused. "Hmm... I think he said he got it from his father, Fleamont, who got it from his father before him. James said, after Harry was born, that it was a family tradition to pass it from father from son."
Not only had James had it since his childhood, likely over twenty years ago, but it had been in his family for at least a hundred years?
There had never been a cloak such as that in existence.
Severus' sense of excitement grew. "Do you know where they originally got it from?" he asked quickly. "Did they purchase it somewhere? Or did one of them create it?"
Fleamont had been an inventor, of sorts. It would not be entirely unfathomable that one of his ancestors carried his same ingenuity and dove in to the depths of magic to pull out such a one of a kind item.
"I don't know," Lupin said with an apologetic frown. "I just know it's a very old Potter family heirloom. I doubt if James even knows of where they first got it from, he didn't see much value in it past using it for pranks, you know."
Yes. Severus was quite aware now of what invisible entity within the castle once followed him around hexing him.
"I am aware," he said tartly, sour at the memory. "If you remember anything else about the cloak, will you reach out to me in a discreet method?"
"Of course," Lupin agreed with an easy smile. "I don't suppose you'll tell me why you're so interested in it, will you?"
"I will not. Good day."
Severus left Lupin with a bemused expression as he abruptly pulled his head from the fire.
Hundreds of years.
Severus plucked the cloak back up and threw it over his body. He conjured a mirror and stared at his entirely invisible reflection.
Such a cloak had never existed. Ever.
"This is it," he whispered to himself wondrously. He would do his due diligence in verifying the cloaks origins, but he had a instinctive feeling that Harry had been unknowingly carrying around Death's Cloak for years now. "One hallow down."
Two to go.
"Severus! What a surprise!" Minerva smiled when Severus arrived unannounced at her quarters later that night with a bottle of apology brandy. "Come in, how are you?"
"I'm well," Severus said, truthfully for the first time in nearly six months. "How are you?"
"Much better now," Minerva said as she gestured for Severus to sit. "I've missed our get togethers, I assumed you had replaced my company with Nymphadora."
"Hardly," Severus scoffed, smoothing his robes beneath him as he sat on Minerva's ghastly floral sofa. "You are my friend, Nymphadora is my..."
"Girlfriend," Minerva said with a sly grin as she poured them each a glass of brandy.
Severus cleared his throat and prevented a blush from rising in his face through sheer willpower. "Quite."
"I knew you would see sense eventually," Minerva said with a small chuckle. She brought Severus a drink and sat at the opposite chair from him. "Tell me how it came to be? I assumed poor Nymphadora would have to chase you for years."
"Potter luck," Severus said simply. He raised his glass towards Minerva, "It is apparently contagious."
"Apparently," Minerva agreed with a glimmer of amusement in her eyes. She took a long drink of the brandy and smiled affably towards Severus. "So, what brings you by tonight?"
"Fleamont Potter," Severus said, appreciating Minerva's ability to cut to the chase. "You knew him, did you not?"
"I did," Minerva said. "He had been a few years older than I, but we grew up in the same village before he married Euphemia and moved to Godric's Hallow. A lovely man, intelligent and insightful. Why the sudden interest?"
"It is for a project, for Harry, that I am working on," Severus said, not quite lying. "The child knows nothing of his family tree, and I thought perhaps I could find some ancestors of interest for him."
"Is that so?" Minerva hummed, taking a drink of her brandy and eyeing Severus speculatively over her glasses. "You were rather close with Lily, I assume you know quite a bit about her family?"
"I do," Severus agreed. He stretched out on the sofa casually, adopting an air of near disinterest. "However, I know nothing of James' family and Harry has become rather despondent with the topic of his mother."
"Despondent about Lily? Why?" Minerva asked sharply. "What could she possibly have done to cause that?"
Severus considered the small tidbits of information that Harry had shared about his belief that his mother would have come to hate him, rather than cherish his every breath.
"Apparently, Horace has painted Lily as a saint," Severus said, irritation for Horace's lack of decorum twisting his features. "As such, Harry believes that Lily would hate him, and will not accept any assurances otherwise. Thus, I thought perhaps he may find James' more... colorful family to be of interest."
Minerva snorted lightly and shook her head. "Lily would be wielding a knife alongside her son and we both know it," she said. "That girl may have appeared a saint, and Morgana knows she died as one, but Harry carries on her fiery spirit in his every action."
Severus inclined his head in agreement. Lily had strong morals, nerves of steel, and a rather black and white view of the world- but he knew in every fiber of his body that she would break her own morals to assist Harry in burning the world to ash if she knew what all he had faced in his short life.
Harry thought she would hate him? Hardly.
Lily would adore her chaotic monster of a son as much as she adored her mischievous oaf of a husband.
"A topic I plan to revisit with him, in due time," Severus said lightly. "I suppose you don't know much about Fleamont's family line then?"
"Only a bit, I'm afraid," Minerva said. She finished off her glass of brandy and moved to her cluttered and overly stuffed bookcase. "Let's see here... Fleamont's father, Harry's great-grandfather, was Charlus Potter, and he had the book on his fireplace. You couldn't visit his home without seeing it, and it is... Aha!" Minerva plucked a thick, red leather bound, tomb from her shelf and wandlessly levitated it to Severus. Severus wiped the thick dust from the cover and raised his brows with interest at the title, The Sacred Twenty-Eight.
As easy as it was for half-bloods and muggleborns to scoff at the lack of knowledge that purebloods held about muggle life, it was quite the reminder that it could occasionally be a two-way street. Severus had never considered the fact that the Potter line would have been recorded alongside the other pureblood families.
He simply could have went to the library and skipped this conversation entirely. Although, truthfully, Severus had sorely missed Minerva recently as he hid himself away and drowned his grief in research.
"I believe that Fleamont and Euphemia were the last of the line listed, as James 'tarnished' the line by marrying Lily, but you should be able to track the Potter's centuries back in there," Minerva said, resuming her seat. "I didn't have much interaction with Charlus, though I do have plenty of stories about Fleamont, if you'd like."
In for a knut, in for a galleon, he supposed.
"Certainly," Severus agreed. He summoned Minerva's chessboard from her window side table and raised a challenging brow. "Perhaps over a game?"
"I have missed you," Minerva said with a true smile. She summoned the bottle of brandy and set it on the table beside the chessboard. "Now, Fleamont was a polite boy, but he was also a terrible troublemaker. You tell Harry about the time he accidentally jinxed my father's hens to be infertile..."
Listening to Minerva share stories of Harry's paternal grandfather while they played a game of chess and shared the bottle of brandy was a small price to pay for the book.
Even if Fleamont sounded remarkably like James and Severus was quite sure that he would have disliked the man immensely.
"It's... it's definitely unique," Nymphadora said on Saturday afternoon after Severus shared with her all that he had discovered about Harry's cloak. She examined the material closely and even squinted at it through one eye. "I just... I don't know, Sev, do you really think the Hallows are real?"
"How many invisibility cloaks do you know of that have lasted centuries without becoming useless?" Severus asked her. "I know of one."
"Yeah... yeah, I mean, you're right," she said slowly, carefully handing Severus back the cloak. "This could be the cloak, and we know that there's a powerful wand in history made of elder, but a resurrection stone? Do you really think it's possible to bring back the dead?"
"Is it any more unlikely than a stone that gave everlasting life?" Severus asked her, pacing in front of the sofa she sat on while he thought aloud. "Is it any more unreasonable than a man storing pieces of his soul in objects? More fantastical than a man storing a piece of his soul within a body that holds its own soul? This is all lore, Nymphadora. None of this is based in facts, or logic."
"Right... I agree with you there," she said. "So are we willing to risk Harry's life on elements based heavily in fantasy and fiction?"
Severus paused his pacing long enough to give Nymphadora a derisive scoff. "According to muggles, we are fantasy." Severus nearly smiled as he recalled something Harry once spewed at him in a manic rant. "We're magic, Nymphadora. We can do anything we want. I believe basilisk venom is the key to curing cancer. Broomsticks can fly. Your cousin can turn in to a dog. Why shouldn't a fictional tale hold the secrets to saving a boy from an unimaginable scenario?"
Nymphadora still looked skeptical, but a reasonable amount of skepticism was helpful. Severus knew, logically, that he was desperate to find a way to save Harry. He wanted the child to live, more than he had ever wanted anything in his life, perhaps more than anyone in history had ever wanted anything. This bone-deep desire could lead Severus to lie to himself.
If Nymphadora had to bring forth logic and counter his arguments with skepticism, so the better. A counter-argument could only strengthen the original argument.
"And, look here." Severus summoned the book Minerva lent him from his bedside table and flipped it open. He pulled out the parchment he had taken careful notes on and read it aloud to her. "Fleamont was born to Charlus Potter. Charlus Potter was born to Henry Potter, who was orphaned and adopted at a young age and whose biological father was known to be Edward Peverell, grandson of Ignotus Peverell."
Nymphadora blinked and then her face softened as she looked up from the book Severus thrust at her to his face. "You haven't been sleeping," she said. She gently traced the bags beneath his eyes and gave him a sympathetic smile that was quite out of place in the moment. "Why don't you go rest and we can look at this with fresh eyes in the morning?"
Severus had not been sleeping. Severus had spent his entire night Thursday night, his entire day Friday, and the majority of Friday night in the library beneath Harry's cloak as he shamelessly overused Pepper-Up Potions and pursued every book available on ancestry and notable wizards, creating an adequate and logical family tree dating back to the year 1218.
"Do not patronize me," Severus snapped, pulling the book away and tossing it on the sofa alongside Harry's cloak. "I am trying to tell you that it all fits. All of it."
"All of what?" Nymphadora asked, raising her voice to match Severus'. "Who cares who Harry's great-great-great-whatever was? How does that help us keep him alive?"
Severus ignored her agitated tone in favor of relishing in her use of the phrase 'help us keep him alive'. How long had it been since Severus felt as if he had an equal to work with? Someone determined to assist him in reaching his goals for no ulterior motive than because they knew the goals were important to Severus?
Had he ever had such a person before?
"Ignotus Peverell had two brothers," Severus said, attempting to temper his own tone. "Antioch and Cadmus—"
"Daft names," Nymphadora snorted.
"Indeed," he smiled slightly. "Cadmus had a single heir, an unacknowledged bastard, before he killed himself. Damon, who also had a single son, Salazar."
"So... Salazar Slytherin is the grandson of Cadmus Peverell," Nymphadora said, "and that helps how...?"
"Wait please," Severus said patiently. "Salazar fathered the Gaunt line, an extinct line that ends with Morfin and Merope. And Merope was—"
"Voldemort's mother," Nymphadora gasped. "So Harry and Voldemort are cousins, distantly?"
Dear Lord. Never let Harry hear such a thing.
"Of a sort," Severus grimaced. "Though that is not the point I am attempting to make. The eldest Peverell brother, Antioch, was killed in a duel in Germany, leaving behind a wife and six sons. One of those sons became the great-grandfather to a well-known wand maker, Mykew Gregorovitch."
"Great," Nymphadora said, clapping her hands together brightly. "Well, I feel really well-informed about bloody ancient ancestry. Now, should we focus on Harry or can we have a drink?"
"It is all one and the same topic," Severus said. He flicked his wand and summoned a bottle of wine and two glasses. "Help yourself," he told her. "And I will explain."
"Sev." Nymphadora held up the bottle Severus sent to her with a queer look on her face. "Where'd you get this?"
Severus flicked his eyes absently over the French label and furrowed his brows. "I ordered it," he told her, unsure why it was relevant in the face of an unprecedented breakthrough in their crusade to save Harry's life. "Or, rather, I asked Narcissa to order a few bottles of it over the summer," he amended himself. "My French is hardly up to par with hers."
"Why?" Nymphadora asked. "You don't really drink wine?"
"I..." Severus trailed off in confusion and his furrow grew. "You like it, do you not? You said it was a brand you enjoyed?"
She had said that, Severus was certain of it. She mentioned it during one of the times she had spent loitering in his office last year. Severus had offered her a glass of scotch and she sighed and said she missed the wine in France she drank during a mission once, specifically the Cote de Nuits.
"I do," Nymphadora said, a small smile blooming on her lips. "Just to be clear here, I mentioned liking a particular brand of wine, and not only did you remember it, but you had Narcissa order it over the summer so you could keep it in stock here?"
"Yes?"
Had Severus been speaking in riddles? Was that not what he just said?
Perhaps Nymphadora was the one going without adequate sleep.
"Just checking," she said with an expression torn between a smirk and a smile. She poured two glasses and placed Severus' on the small table and tucked her feet beneath herself on the sofa as she took a small sip. "Go on, then. Let's here your theory on how ancient ancestry proves the existence of items gifted by death."
Severus gave her a puzzled frown at her odd line of questioning, but quickly appeased her request.
"Think about it, connect the lines for yourself. The Peverell brothers were noted as extraordinarily powerful wizards. Stronger than Merlin, even. There are hundreds of spells, potions, even creatures that they were credited with creating. I doubt if 'Death' gifted these items to them, but what if they created them, Nymphadora? Flamel created a stone giving everlasting life, I do not find it unlikely that Cadmus created a stone that brought back a spirit from the afterlife."
"Wait- why Cadmus?" Nymphadora interrupted him. "Why do you think Cadmus created it?"
"Because it all fits," Severus stressed. "The eldest brother created the most powerful wand in known history, his descendant carried the tradition on in his own powerful wand-making skills. Cadmus created a stone to bring back the dead, his descendant tore apart his soul in an effort to avoid death."
"And Ignotus created a cloak so his descendant could one day sneak around school and shag his fiancé," Nymphadora nodded solemnly. "You're right, Sev, it all fits."
Severus sighed—
Heavily
—and shook his head in exasperation.
"You are incredibly irritating," he told her with only a small hint of fondness. He stopped his erratic pacing and sat on the sofa beside her and grabbed his own drink. "Does it truly sound unbelievable?"
Nymphadora sighed and scooted closer to him, slowly laying her head on his shoulder. "It sounds like a mad and desperate idea to grasp on to," she said softly. "But... but we live in mad and desperate times, don't we? And there does seem to be some credible ideas within the mix there."
If Nymphadora believed that there was a chance, however small, that this could be the path they needed to pursue, then Severus felt incrementally more sane.
"I am going to go to Austria," Severus said. "I need to speak to Grindewald."
"What?!" Nymphadora sat up and stared at Severus with shock that brought the topic of his sanity back in to question. "Why would you do that?"
"They were researching the Hallows," Severus explained, "Grindewald and Albus. I'm certain it was why Albus had possession of the cloak the night the Potters were attacked. What if they found another one, Nymphadora? What if Grindewald knows where one, or even both, of the others are? Harry needs all three."
Harry needed to become the Master of Death, as partially horrifying as the thought was. Severus was certain that the Master of Death would have the ability to outlast the death that would be required to evict the horcrux within his body.
Severus needed it to be true because he needed Harry to live.
No entity on earth deserved to live their life as much as Harry did.
"You can't just waltz in to Nurmengard and speak to Gellert Grindewald," Nymphadora hissed. "Merlin, Sev. Even aurors don't have that kind of privilege."
"Do aurors have Death's Cloak of Invisibility?" Severus asked calmly.
Nymphadora seemed caught off guard for a moment before she quickly rallied. "No, but you don't need to go putting yourself on an international watchlist by breaking into Nurmengard either," she said. "Is there a way to ask Albus about it? See if he knows anything?"
"Albus would never tell me if he did," Severus scowled. "He has yet to tell me about the horcrux within Harry. Albus has his own plans on how to end the war, and he has kept those plans rather close to his chest."
Nymphadora clacked her teeth on the side of her glass while she gazed off at the wall, lost in thought.
It was quite distracting- her nibbling on the glass.
But Severus would not allow it to distract him from his current goal. Not at present. There was too much at stake, everything at stake, to act as a besotted schoolboy.
"Gregorovitch," Nymphadora said suddenly, causing Severus to twitch guiltily at the way he had been quite rudely staring at her teeth and lips wrapped around her glass. "We might have the cloak, so we need the stone and the wand, right? Gregorovitch is still alive. Let's go ask him about the Elder Wand. That one, at least, sounds reasonably simple to track. The Deathstick, the Wand of Destiny, those wands were all made of elder. It could be the same wand with different names popping up through history."
"Would it not be simpler to ask Grindewald what he knows?"
"Simpler? Maybe," Nymphadora scoffed. "If by simpler you mean hoping he tells us the truth, hoping he knows anything at all, oh and hoping we don't get caught, questioned by the International Confederation of Wizards on why we were in Nurmengard in the first place. But yeah," she paused to take a sip of her wine, "that sounds much simpler than an innocent sightseeing trip to Germany where we happen to stop and speak with a world-renown wandmaker."
Severus raised his brows high as she turned a challenging and impudent look towards him. "I believe you could have said that without the additional cheek."
"I could have," she agreed, smiling outright and tilting her head conspiratorially towards his. "But where's the fun in that?" she whispered with a wink.
"Where indeed?" Severus murmured, momentarily distracted by the deep violet color of her irises.
Focus.
"Ahem." Severus cleared his throat and shifted away slightly. "Then I will go to Germany first, see what Gregorovitch knows."
"Orrrrr... I can just go," Nymphadora said slowly and thoughtfully. "I doubt you want to leave the country with Harry here, do you?"
He did not.
Harry would somehow find a way to end the current war and begin a new one if Severus left him unsupervised for too long.
She grinned knowingly at Severus' lack of a response. "And international portkeys are getting to be difficult for you common folk to acquire. I could get one, easy. The witch that runs the department owes me a favor. If you'd keep a good eye on Susan for me, I could get a portkey and be there and back in less than two weeks, maybe even quicker."
"You would do that?" Severus asked her. "You would go to Germany and question Gregorovitch for me?"
"Certainly not for free," Nymphadora said, a mischievous glimmer alighting in her eyes.
"Oh?" Severus asked, playing along to what he was certain, based on her expression, would be a jest of some sort. "And what terrible price would I have to pay for this great favor?"
"First," Nymphadora leaned forward slowly, placing her lips mere centimeters from his, "I believe we are no longer in the same house as our nosy teenagers, so I'd like to take you back up on that offer to not sleep in your bed," she whispered, her breath on his lips sending a slight shiver down his spine.
"Acceptable," he murmured. He didn't bother to correct her that technically they were still within the same castle as their incredibly invasive and meddling teenagers. They had not found many opportunities to be alone over the holiday, as Nymphadora assisted Susan in clearing out Bones Cottage and Severus had been caught up in his research. And when they did find themselves alone, it was while sharing a house with Harry 'I Have No Boundaries and Will Sprawl Across Severus' Bed At Any Given Time' Potter and Susan 'I Ask Too Many Questions In Public About My Guardian's Romantic Life' Bones.
Which did not lend much assistance towards intimacy.
"Secondly," Nymphadora pulled away slightly, causing Severus to unconsciously lean towards her, "what are the odds that you'd be willing to redecorate your room, just a bit?"
"What?" Severus pulled back this time, entirely confused by the request. "Redecorate my room?"
What kind of a mad request was that? Granted, Severus had a minimal history with intimacy of any sort, certainly none of the romantic kind, but he was unsure how a paint job was meant to help or hinder it in any way.
"I'm going to say something, and you're not going to like it much," Nymphadora said, shifting uneasily beside him. "I snooped in your room, once. Just poked my head in, made sure there wasn't really a coffin, you know."
Severus snorted. "You looked in my incredibly private bedroom to ensure that I do not hoard dark and cursed items as your coworkers have undoubtedly warned you that I do," he corrected her. "Understood. Go on."
"Right," Nymphadora grinned unabashedly at his accurate rephrasing. "And... well... I know she was your friend, but... I don't much fancy getting undressed in front of a photo of Lily Potter on your nightstand."
Son of a bitch.
Severus sat back and carefully cleared his face from showing any emotions.
He had forgotten about that photo. It had been a gift, from Harry, back in his first year. Albus had sent the child a book of photographs of his parents, and Harry, knowing Severus' connection to his mother, gave Severus one of Lily on her wedding day playfully blowing a kiss at whoever took her photo. The fact that Harry gave it to him had meant nearly as much as the photograph itself. Severus kept it displayed in an area only he traveled in, as a reminder of the friend he once had, and the person who drove his vow to protect Harry which grew to become Severus' love of Lily's son.
His son.
Severus would not remove the photograph. It was not a magical portrait with the ability to speak and carry on conversation, merely a common wizarding photograph that played a few seconds of a loop. It was a gift. And Severus would keep it right where he had it.
It was an absurd request to make.
Yet... Perhaps it was due to his relatively sleep-deprived mind, or his own lessons on empathy to Harry that drew the thought up, but... but what if Severus entered Nymphadora's bedroom and found a framed photographed of her friend, Charles Weasley, on her nightstand?
It was this flare of petulant jealousy that caused Severus to clear his throat once more.
"Also acceptable," he said evenly. "I have been meaning to give that back to Harry, at any rate. He gave it to me, as a gift of sorts."
Nymphadora had a much too knowing look on her face when she hesitantly spoke. "You don't have to get rid of it, that's not what I'm saying. I know she was your friend, and you loved her. Just, maybe... maybe move it?" She smiled at him with a bit more of her typical confidence. "I'm not daft, Sev, I know I'm not your first anything, but... but I'd like to be the photograph on your nightstand one day, does that make sense?"
It did.
Severus gave her an appreciative smile and stood, offering her his hand and pulling her close once she grasped it. "You are the first for many things," he told her quietly. "You are the first to assist me so altruistically and enthusiastically. You are about to be the first witch to sleep in my bed with me. And..." Severus swallowed as he attempted to be as open with her as she had always been with him. "And you are the first person whose photograph I would be pleased to place on my nightstand, current photograph notwithstanding."
"Truly?" Nymphadora breathed, looking up at him with earnest and bright eyes.
"Truly."
Nymphadora's undeserved look of awe shifted to a more characteristically open and playful smile. "What if I don't want to sleep in your bed?"
Severus dipped his head down, placing his mouth beside her ear. "What if you are exhausted?" he murmured in a soft and silky tone. "What if you are simply drained of all energy?" He smirked a bit smugly as Nymphadora's neck erupted in tiny goosebumps.
It was revolutionary to him, Nymphadora's reactions. As much as she affected him, it seemed as if he were able to affect her just as much.
"That's a high bar to set," she told him as the blacks of her pupils seemed to dilate. "Anything less than an absolute drain of my energy will be such a letdown."
"Come." Severus held her hand and pulled her gently towards his room. "Let's see if I cannot silence your endless wit for a while, hmm?"
Nymphadora laughed, eagerly allowing him to lead her to his room.
"One moment, please," Severus told her. He kissed her knuckles chastely before dropping her hand and slipping in to his room alone.
Severus took a deep breath to steady himself as he stared down at the photograph of Lily.
Lily had been his friend- his first friend. She had been his confidant, and his rock during a tumultuous childhood. Severus had loved her, but he ultimately let her down. He had not been the kind of person at the time to understand a selfless sort of love, and how could he? Severus certainly had never seen it modeled for him within his home or with his classmates at the time.
He stared in to Lily's green eyes and thought of Harry. As much as Severus taught Harry, and as much as he hoped to continue teaching Harry, about life, Harry did not come without lessons for Severus as well.
Lessons on selfless love.
Lessons on what it truly meant to place someone else above yourself.
Severus never could have offered Lily that, and she knew it. She found it in James, and they died together as they selflessly attempted to save their child's life.
Did it mean that Severus could not change, that he could not become a better person now than the one he had been in his past?
Could Severus not be the person who did not let someone down, who placed someone else's happiness above his own, aside from only Harry?
"I can," he whispered to Lily's photograph. "Thank you, friend, for Harry." Severus grabbed the photo and moved to his closet, to the top shelf with his belongings that he no longer required, but refused to trash, such as his parents' marriage certificate. "Goodbye," he said, reaching up and carefully placing Lily's photograph in the box. "Rest easy."
Severus expected he would feel grief, removing the photograph from his beside table. Instead, curiously, he felt... lighter.
The beside table, much as Severus' future, was blank.
Empty.
Free.
Free from the past.
Able to be decorated however he wished.
With the assistance of the Hallows, perhaps he could one day place a photograph of Harry's ministerial election there. Or a framed newspaper clipping of Harry winning the World Cup.
He could begrudgingly add a photo of Harry's wedding.
And... perhaps... Severus moved to the door, opening it to Nymphadora with a small smile, which she responded to with a bright smile of joy... perhaps he would one day add a photograph of Nymphadora to his table.