"Happy New Year, Severus," Sybill Trelawney said to him at their first dinner back after the holidays as she sat next to him.

Because of course she’d take the empty seat next to him as an invitation to sit, which it wasn’t. She evidently had somewhere to be for the holidays as she’d just returned to Hogwarts that day. Not that he paid her comings and goings much attention, but when there were no students in the castle she was about as subtle as an anvil in her interest in him.

He couldn’t fathom why she was interested in him. Not to mention he wasn’t that great of a catch. Someone out there had to buy into her crap. Aside from that he had never in all of these years of knowing her been even remotely kind to her. 

Never.

“What’s so fucking good about it?"

“Severus," Minerva’s stern voice came from his other side.

He recognized that tone well. He’d heard it several times as a student here when she assumed (usually incorrectly) that he was the party doing the wronging instead of being wronged. Scolding. Disappointment.

“What?" The one word response was practically spat, betraying his foul mood. Why was that witch able to hound him mercilessly? Albus found it all amusing no doubt. Severus was not amused in the least.

“Don’t ‘what’ me as if you don’t know."

“She’s our supposed seer. If she had an ounce of actual intuition in her she would know that wishing me a Happy New Year at this point in time is the last thing she should be doing. Shouldn’t our students be aware that the person teaching them is a fraud, a hack, and a drunk who throws herself at me at every turn despite my obvious lack of interest?"

The fucking birthmark on his chest had more legitimate intuition than Sybill Trelawney did. The intuition didn’t seem to extend beyond him and his mental state, but it was accurate.

The fraud in question burst into tears and fled the Great Hall. While it made him feel a little better knowing he’d driven the crazy witch to tears and away from the seat beside his, it didn’t help.

He wasn’t going to do this tonight.

He couldn’t do this tonight.

He stood from the table then, tossing his napkin on the plate in front of him as several pairs of eyes were focused on him.

“Severus," Albus said, his eyes looking at him just as sternly as Minerva’s tone implied.

“I’m going to my rooms. You can have a return to term feast without me."

“What is wrong with him?" he heard Minerva ask Albus.

He stormed through the halls in the direction of the dungeons and his rooms there. Because of course Albus put him in the dungeons, where the spy he couldn’t truly trust belonged evidently.

Yes, yes, it was where Slytherin’s dormitory was located and he was the head of house for it. Realistically, he knew all of that. It didn’t mean that he liked living there. That he didn’t know what people said about him. He knew. He heard it. He used those rumours to his advantage, making him feared and unapproachable.

“What is wrong with him," he murmured in his imitation of Minerva’s Scottish brogue.

“Yes, indeed, God forbid the bat of the dungeons has a life outside of Hogwarts that just happened to go to hell."

He was awaiting word from Ambrosius that he was able to collect their brother’s remains, or if not when they might be able to. Severus didn’t care what anyone’s perception of Hans Gruber was, Geta Snape deserved to be brought home. He still wasn’t sure how he, having to go home from a magical castle, heard the news of Geta’s end yet Ambrosius had to be found and told. He claimed he didn’t watch television and being Christmas was enjoying a holiday. Severus wasn’t sure if that was true, but he couldn’t fathom Ambrosius lying to him so had to take his younger brother at his word.

Severus of course couldn’t go as much as he might have liked to.

Try explaining that one to Albus Dumbledore.

Not that Ambrosius was incompetent, and it wasn’t a difficult errand. Or shouldn’t be at any rate. They’d either release him, or they wouldn’t.

What remained of him anyway. Severus didn’t fool himself into thinking after a fall as his twin experienced that there would be much left of him. Ambrosius likely wouldn’t think about that. He wasn’t a dunderhead, but Severus wasn’t sure he grasped physics the way he and Geta had.

It had taken him five days to finally call Ambrosius, bidding him to come home. Downside of his brothers living in the thick of muggle society he couldn’t send a patronus. He had taken the news of Hans’ death harder than Severus expected. He supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised since his twin had basically taken Simon under his wing once both their parents were gone. Certainly there were no success stories in the neighborhood of Cokeworth where their childhood home was.

They were to meet at the house again at the end of the month so that Ambrosius could fill him in on what he’d learned in America. It was a good errand for Ambrosius. He could … blend in far better than Severus could. A downfall of living pretty exclusively in the wizarding world since he was eleven years old.

And Ambrosius was far more familiar with current muggle laws and procedures than Severus was.

Until then, he would be left to wonder and worry that he’d never get to properly say goodbye to and mourn his brother.

It was moments like this he wished he hadn’t had second thoughts about the Dark Lord and his teachings. A spot of violence would be exceptionally invigorating about now. Ultimately, he had learned he didn’t have the stomach for such things. Not really. In the beginning, yes, it had been fun. They hadn’t always killed muggles. Eventually, though, it escalated to that when instigating a fight with someone that had no chance of winning wasn’t enough. It became too easy just to embarrass or beat them.

He could look back on most of the things he’d done prior to changing sides with regret. As a poor boy who’d been picked on endlessly by Potter and his ilk there were some things he couldn’t deny he’d enjoyed. He had what many would probably call anger issues when he was in school.

He wasn’t that man any longer.

His apprenticeship being away from Britain had helped … mellow him some. He’d earned the respect of his master, true respect, by displaying his thirst for knowledge and ability to work hard. He’d never truly had that before. His professors at Hogwarts always treated him as if he were … other. Even Slughorn despite him being gifted at potions. He realized now it was likely because Horace was worried Severus would expose him after forty years of teaching as not really being that good at it.

He was pretty sure toward the end there he had frightened the Dark Lord to some degree with the increase in his magical abilities despite being away from Voldemort’s clutches and influences. He didn’t like the thought of anyone supposedly subservient to him potentially being … more. He’d never said so, but Severus had confided in Albus after the fact that if Voldemort hadn’t been stopped when he was, he was pretty sure the headmaster would have been in need of a new spy.

He'd often wondered more than once if Geta and Ambrosius had had a Master Leitner if their lives might have taken a different route. Been better. Would Geta be alive?

“Oh, Ambrosius. How is Los Angeles treating you?" he murmured as he holed himself up in his lab.

There were some potions that he could work on right now, ones that didn’t require a gentle touch or as much precision as others. He needed his mind off of the dunderheads in the castle he worked with and what his brother was doing five thousand miles away.

Story ©Susan Matthews/APCKRFAN/PhantomRoses.com