Was there no holiday for him to have free from being associated with life-altering loss?

Halloween seven years ago he lost someone who had been his best friend. His only friend really, even if they hadn't spoken in a few years. The only person other than his brothers to ever show him kindness. Love. Even if he had come to the realization over the years that she was perhaps no more an expert on love and how to love than he was.

Friends forgave one another, something she seemed incapable of doing. That didn't lessen his feeling of loss and the knowledge that she was no longer here. Or his feelings of guilt at his actions prior to her death, including the fact he hadn't given two shits about her son's life just hers when he'd made his plea to Albus. He knew, now, he hadn't killed her. The Dark Lord likely would have found out about the prophecy some other way. Or, if not, more innocent lives would have been taken during the time he was so focused on finding out who the prophecy was about. She would never get another birthday or Christmas. She would never see her son grow into his magic.

And now.

Now.

Well, he never thought he'd feel something worse than losing Lily, of discovering turning spy and subjecting himself to two masters had been for nothing.

Now.

Well, he lost a piece of him he could never get back.

Gone.

His brother. More than that.

His twin.

The one he'd shared his mum's womb with. The one who'd laughed it off when it was discovered he was not magical and Severus was. He had held no grudges and, in fact, sat entranced while Severus filled him in on all sorts of magical things that meant nothing to the boy. He was … elated that his brother had something.

He watched the television, horrified, as he saw the news footage of his brother falling from the Nakatomi building.

He'd come to their childhood home instead of remaining at Hogwarts to celebrate Christmas with the other staff members who had no one else for the sole purpose of watching the news. And instead of his brother's greatest triumph, watching the American FBI agents declare his brother dead due to the building exploding while he tried to flee from a helicopter on the roof.

Instead he got to watch him die.

Terrorist.

They were calling him a terrorist.

The only consolation?

However small. He had to look for something good in all of this.

Behrens wouldn't be coming back and certainly didn't need to be obliviated this time. Normally that thought would make him feel something akin to elation. Giddy even. Today it fell flat.

Severus stared at the wall above the television for Merlin knew how long.

Dead.

He could not wrap his mind around it.

Wouldn't he feel it if his twin was gone?

Evidently not. The BBC would doctor a lot of things, but that footage wasn't among them.

Something obviously had to have gone wrong.

Understatement of the year, Severus.

But what?

His brother was as meticulous and exacting in planning his jobs as Severus was in lesson planning. Probably more so in some ways, but the threat to not just Severus' person but each and every one of his students was there every time the dunderheads made a potion. They might drive him nuts but he took their safety seriously.

One turn of the stirring rod anticlockwise instead of clockwise could mean the end.

He cast his patronus, glancing at the doe with a shake of his head. There were times over the years it brought him comfort. The fact that he was able to still cast one meant more than he could describe to anyone else. Not tonight. (In fact, he was shocked he was able to call it up tonight at all.) He was tempted to call Ambrosius home, but decided not to. Not until there was more to say and do. The two of them drowning their sorrows in their pathetic childhood home would not be … healthy.

His surviving brother would fly off the handle and head to Los Angeles immediately. That would not be prudent. He had not learned to squelch that Snape temper.

Fuck.

"You fucking imbecile, you weren't supposed to leave me before your time!"

It was bad enough knowing his brother would die well before him given he wasn't magical. This, though, was years ahead of expectations. He should have had years yet with him. Years to see the world.

He stood then, walking to the fireplace and the only magical picture that existed of the five of them. He was pretty sure his father hadn't known about it or it would have been destroyed long ago. (How their mum had managed to keep it hidden was beyond him, but he supposed a witch had her ways.)

Ambrosius was just learning to walk so was unsteady on his feet as he toddled to his older brothers while their mum and dad watched on. Severus to this day had no idea who took the picture. By the time he ever thought to ask, their mum was gone. Looking at the picture, most (even their dad) would be hard pressed to tell which twin was which. Severus knew, Geta knew, their mum knew. She always did, even with their shirts on.

"What am I supposed to do now?" he cried out in anguish.

Without the removal of the Mark, well, he was stuck. Oh he had savings, but it was all traceable and his withdrawing as much money as the removal of the Mark required would tip someone off that he'd fled. It wasn't chump change he'd need by any means.

That staccato pulse that had been with him for over nine years was frantic in its pace now.

He caught himself in the knick of time from throwing the picture against the wall. Breaking it wouldn't help. He knew that. He and his brothers had a love/hate with their parents, but the three of them had always liked this picture because everyone looked happy in it.

It was a physical, very real, reminder that at one time his parents had been happy. It was easy to forget that because they were not happy for more years than the boys remembered happy ones.

That spot on his chest. That heart on top of his heart was still beating rapidly, faster than a moment ago. As if it was daring him to pay attention to it instead of what he was feeling.

It had been a while since he noticed it like this, almost as if it had a mind of its own and was trying to … remind him there was more to life than this. That like everything else he would survive this. It always beat. He always felt it, but usually it was just there as it had been for over nine years now.

The last time he'd really felt it like this was the night of Lily's death. The more frantic and anguished he got the more demanding it had become. He'd call it his conscience, but it wasn't that. He certainly didn't think he had Jiminy Cricket embedded in his chest or anything. It was definitely … sentient, though.

He settled his fingertips over where he knew the spot to be even covered by his shirt as it was. He took the hint, taking a calming breath. Cursing his brother wouldn't do any good. It wouldn't bring him back. Doing something stupid, even something as small as breaking the picture they'd all three admired wouldn't help. He wouldn't find it amusing either.

Thank you .

He wasn't sure who or what he was thanking, but the frantic-like beating stopped after a moment or two so it did its job.

"Oh Geta," he murmured, hugging the picture to his chest. "What am I going to do without you?" He was his other half, their bond was stronger than anything even now at almost thirty. If he found out Otis had betrayed his brother there would be hell to pay. Of course Otis was dead along with his brother so who would pay was up for debate.

His mark started beating rapidly again to the point it throbbed.

"Fucking hell! I am allowed to be angry about my brother's death!"

He had no idea who or what he was talking to, and it never altered its behaviour. He'd tried in the beginning to do just that. To make it stop. He didn't like it. It was disconcerting. Ignoring it was possible most of the time, which was good.

Seven years since it had done this. He'd almost forgotten the feeling. That was to say, he supposed he should be grateful that his life had been for the most part … calm for that long. Calm and his life certainly hadn't seemed as if they'd go together ten years ago.

He would have to come up with a plan.

Story ©Susan Matthews/APCKRFAN/PhantomRoses.com