Severus stared at his brother, certain he was hearing him wrong. He'd asked him to meet him for an early dinner. They hadn't seen one another since before last school year had begun so he gladly joined his only remaining relative in muggle London for a meal.

"You are a disgrace," Ambrosius said through clenched teeth. "I cannot believe you will not join me in this. He was your twin! You should be the one planning and wanting this, not me. Instead you're holed up in your land of make believe and fantasies."

"To what end, Ambrosius?"

"That is not…"

"It is. It is the name our parents gave to you. I am your elder and all that you have left. As you have come here asking me for a favour not the other way around you will accept that I call you by your proper name. Do you think that it doesn't eat at me that I in any way assisted Geta toward his end. He would not want you to have the same fate."

"That flat-footed Yankee John McClane…"

"Yes, yes. I've been listening to you for almost six years. John McClane this and John McClane that. The one variable Geta could not have accounted for despite all of his careful planning occurred. It resulted in his downfall. Officer McClane did not seek Geta out and had no weapons or backing available to him. And yet he managed to defeat our brother. You are talking of intentionally seeking him out, baiting him in some sort of game, Ambrosius. I'm waiting to hear why you believe this is a good idea, Brother. From where I sit, it is a fool's errand. You have never struck me as stupid enough to think this is a wise course of action, Ambrosius. Geta would not want either of us, potentially both of us, dead or in prison."

"You, Severus Snape, are a coward."

Severus couldn't help but bristle at the insult hurled at him despite knowing his younger brother was emotional and upset at the moment. Ambrosius had always been the more emotional of the three of them. Speaking first, thinking of the consequences later. He was not a coward. Ambrosius had no idea what he'd done and gone through over the years.

"Grow the fuck up, Ambrosius. I am not a coward. I am a realist," he hissed.

Severus stared at his brother.

Ambrosius had come here to talk him into being the wizard that joined him on his revenge scheme / heist in New York City next summer. Thinking Severus had free time since it was the summer he approached him to join. He didn't understand what was going on in the wizarding world right now. Then Severus hadn't really bothered to tell him any of it. He couldn't. He trusted Geta with his life. He loved Ambrosius, but he wasn't sure he trusted him with his life. And his secrets. He didn't truly know him well enough to be certain. They hadn't lived together since Severus was eleven years old.

The heist was real, the scheme attempt at revenge against Officer John McClane was real. Severus was just not very sure the two would mix well and not lead to sloppiness. Ambrosius was a bit too emotional. It was a very real difference between Ambrosius and Geta Snape.

He sighed heavily, spinning his water glass around on the table. If he told his brother the truth as to why he couldn't jetset off to America whenever he wanted him to, would he understand? Severus doubted it. He stared at a spot to the side of Ambrosius with a shake of his head. Why did he even care what his brother did? He wasn't running off to tell Ambrosius what he was into and ask for his help. Not that his brother could assist him in anything he had going on currently. There was nothing he needed stolen, but if that need arose Ambrosius would be his first contact.

Second.

Geta would have been his first.

He missed Geta Snape on a daily basis.

Few and far between were the nights he did not go to sleep with the image of his brother falling from that high rise haunting him in his dreams. He would not die himself in the name of exacting revenge. His brother had chosen his career path. His brother died as a result of that chosen career path. His brother would want him to achieve more. Ambrosius, too, but there was apparently no reasoning with their younger brother.

He missed him, there was no question about it. He was still not going to act like a fool.

Just as Severus chose to be a Death Eater and then turned spy.

If something had ever happened to him he would not have wanted Geta to go after whoever killed him. They just weren't built that way. Growing up as they had, neither had assumed they'd have a long and glamorous life. Ambrosius didn't have it quite as bad as they had. By the time he'd hit the puberty years the anger had been wrung out of their father like their mum's dish flannels. And then their mum and dad had died.

Heartless as that might appear to some.

He knew Geta better than anyone, and vice versa.

His twin would not want him to do this. Ambrosius insulting him would not lead to him getting his way. This wasn't a toy lorry Ambrosius wanted and was being told no. Calling his brother a coward wasn't winning him any points either.

The nerve!

The spot on his chest twinged a bit as it did when he was having an … emotional moment.

He'd come to find after getting bitten by that monstrosity that Hagrid called a dog and having his robes set on fire a few years ago that physical pain could trigger it, too.

He didn't remember that happening before, and he'd certainly been on the receiving end of pain over the years. Granted, from 1981 to 1991 hadn't been so bad and he had other things on his mind from 1979 to 1981 to pay much attention to what the mark was or wasn't doing.

He did know that there was one time it could not calm him. The only time that he could recall in the nearly fifteen years since it had … changed from a nearly invisible mark to one anyone would notice if he was shirtless.

This past school year.

When he had to step between Lupin and Potter, Weasley, and Granger in the Shrieking Shack.

It had burned like a son of a bitch in that moment but it had not soothed or calmed him as was usual. It had agitated him, heightened his fear. A hot poker fresh from a burning fire would have felt better for a moment there. He'd never admit it to another living soul but that was the most frightened he'd been in years.

He hissed now as the feeling overwhelmed him to the point it felt as if he'd burned himself with matches.

"Severus?" his brother asked, clearly having heard him.

What in the world?

He wasn't even that upset!

"Professor Snape?"

He knew that voice. He'd never in a million years expected to hear it while dining with his brother. He shook his head and closed his eyes at the highly amused smirk on his younger brother's face.

"Professor Snape? Is that really you?"

For the first time in his life … he felt something through the mark.

Delight.

What in the devil was that about?

Delight was not the first thing that came to his mind when he heard that voice on his off time.

He opened his eyes and his brother was still smirking. His eyes were twinkling with mirth more than Albus' normally did even.

"Hello, Miss Granger," he said as politely as he could given the circumstances.

"It is you," she said.

"Obviously," he drawled. He glanced at Ambrosius, daring him to do or say something. Anything.

"I'm having dinner with my parents after school supply shopping," she said, pointing in the direction of a table where a couple (obviously her parents) were seated.

"How nice," he said.

That mark on his chest was … agitated now.

What in the devil? He settled a fingertip over where he knew it to be, rubbing a bit hoping to … soothe it.

"I, myself, am having dinner with a friend from out of town. Miss Granger, may I present Simon Classen."

Ambrosius arched his brow at him, but extended his hand to the witch. He knew full well his brother had never introduced him to anyone as Simon.

"How lovely to meet someone who knows Severus through his work. You are a student of his then?" he asked, kissing the back of her hand.

"I am, yes. I was just so surprised to see him here of all places so I had to come see for myself that it was. I won't keep you, Sir, I'm sorry to have interrupted."

"Are you enjoying your summer then, Miss Granger?"

"Oh, yes, it's been alright," she said.

"Good."

"And yours, Sir?"

"It has been passable."

"Oh good," she said, nibbling on her lower lip. An act he'd observed her do often in his classroom. "Anyway, again, I didn't mean to intrude. Enjoy the rest of your dinner."

Now there was … giddiness.

What in the hell was that about? He couldn't recall a time he'd ever been giddy in his life. Maybe when he did get his Hogwarts letter.

"Who was that?" Ambrosius said, glancing behind him to watch Granger return to the table she was sitting at with her parents.

"She's fifteen," he hissed.

"Pity," Ambrosius said. He arched a brow at his brother, no doubt hearing the vehement way he informed him of her age. He'd never given Hermione Granger much thought, but he certainly did not want someone like his brother looking twice at her.

"And not your type."

Ambrosius huffed then, nostrils flaring at the statement as he returned his focus completely back to Severus.

Geta, like everything else in life, had liked high maintenance women with expensive tastes.

Ambrosius wasn't nearly so selective. He liked any woman. He was that way about anything for that matter. Ambrosius did not care how much something cost either.

There were times he wondered how he could be related to two men who allowed their libido such control. He couldn't fathom granting a woman that much access to his personal space. Or his person for that matter.

Geta had never had a woman he was with romantically on his team. He seemed to think mixing business with pleasure could create problems and appear … unseemly.

Ambrosius, though, had evidently not followed in their other brother's footsteps on that frame of mind.

"And what type would that be?" he asked, after taking a sip of his wine.

Severus pressed a fingertip against his chest again. Nervousness and … anxiety were there now. Something he was feeling neither of at the moment.

What in the bloody hell was going on? This thing had never been so off before.

He closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep and calming breath. He exhaled sharply and repeated this a second and third time. Finally, the mark seemed to go back to its usual less intrusive state.

"She can read," Severus said.

Ambrosius scowled but shook his head, seeming to take the comment for what it was. Factual.

Silence as black eyes assessed brown ones over the dinner table.

"So, returning to our conversation. You will not assist?"

"I cannot, Ambrosius. I am knee deep in my own problems that I cannot discuss with you, Ambrosius," he said, casting a subtle Notice-Me-Not so that he could pull up his shirtsleeve and show his brother how much … darker his Dark Mark was than even the last time they'd seen one another. Ambrosius did not know much, but he was aware enough to understand that the darkening of the Mark was of concern to Severus and that it meant something bad.

Albus' ramblings of the Dark Lord's return no longer seemed quite as crazy or delusional as they had four or five years ago. Severus had assumed it was the headmaster's way of keeping tabs on him, keeping people living in fear that the big bad wizard might come back.

"I can, as I did with Geta, offer you the name of someone."

"That would be fine, but you should be the one wanting to do this!"

Severus shook his head.

"You don't think he and I talked of what should and shouldn't happen in the event of his demise? I will tell you what I told you last year, Ambrosius. He would not want this!"

"Yes, well, I still disagree."

Later that night a frustrated Severus was finally slipping under the effects of Morpheus' spell. It hadn't been easy tonight. Concern for Ambrosius doing something … stupid that would lead to Severus having to visit his brother in an American prison next year weighed heavy on his mind. He just was not as precise as Geta or Severus were, and he was talking about going up against someone who'd bested their brother with virtually no assistance who wasn't even supposed to be there that Christmas Eve night. As good as Ambrosius might be, Severus knew he was not up to Geta's level.

If John McClane had bested Hans Gruber, Severus didn't hold out much hope in Simon Classen doing much better.

How stupid do I have to be to have done that?

"Really?" he murmured.

This wasn't the first time he'd heard the voice in his head. If he didn't live in the wizarding world he'd think he was crazy. Even living in the wizarding world he had wondered at first except it didn't happen overmuch and when it did, it was usually something like this. Ramblings of someone who was obviously a younger witch.

Why obviously?

He remembered the first time he'd heard it. It was around the time Potter was supposed to have received his Hogwarts letter. The witch had obviously just gotten hers.

It had happened a few times since then. Not real often, but enough that he was accustomed to it. That didn't mean he didn't find it somewhat intrusive tonight when thinking about Ambrosius. The voice wasn't identifiable, as if his mind (or hers) was muffling it somehow so that he wouldn't recognize it.

When the first years had arrived in 1991 he'd looked at each and every one of the witches in an attempt to ascertain which it was who'd been able to invade his thoughts. (Only Albus would appreciate why he would be unsettled at the idea of someone broaching not just his mind but his occlumency walls.) He did not use legilimens to invade their thoughts, that would be unprofessional and more than just questionable to do without parental consent to a minor without cause. Especially to first year muggleborn witches, which was who he had focused on based on the brief ramblings that had been shared with him that first night. She could have been a halfblood raised as a muggle, but he doubted that. A halfblood would have been aware of the possibility of being a witch.

This witch had clearly been surprised at the news judging by her reaction to receiving the Hogwarts letter.

And what did you do that you consider to be so stupid?

All that he heard in response was a soft gasp.

And then nothing.

He rolled his eyes and gave a soft sigh in exasperation.

He even scared the voices in his head apparently.

Great.

He slid a hand to his forehead, pinching the bridge of his nose with another sigh. Did he really want to do this? Go down this road? He took her gasp as a sign that she'd heard him. He hadn't gotten the impression she had heard him before tonight.

If you can actually hear me, which I assume your gasp was a sign of that being true. I am certain that you did not do anything that stupid. Hogwarts can be difficult on top of this being a difficult age, magical or not. The particular climate these days for a witch such as yourself can make it even more so.

Why he even cared, he wasn't sure.

Other than it was an anonymous way of being … kind.

He couldn't be kind to muggleborn witches within the walls of Hogwarts. Before Voldemort's attempts at returning it might have been possible. Now, though, with the climate recently. It was impossible.

He no longer thought Albus' ramblings of Voldemort returning were nonsense. He didn't know when or how it was going to happen, but it had been entirely too close to coming true more than once now. The Mark, while not as dark as it had been back in the late seventies and early eighties when Voldemort was alive, was definitely not fading any longer. He had no doubt it would happen. Severus just didn't know when.

Or how.

And when he returned?

Well, he probably will have wished he took Ambrosius up on joining him on his heist. Prison would be preferable to pretending to continue to believe Voldemort's preachings.

It made him sick, physically and mentally, that so many (all but Albus he imagined) believed he might still believe the lunatic's rhetoric. Still follow. Still be that wizard from fifteen years ago with so much hate and anger coursing through him.

No response.

Was he crazy? Did she think she was crazy for hearing someone say something in her mind? Was she aware that he could hear her thoughts at times?

It has nothing to do with school. Well, not really. I got excited for a moment earlier and forgot that he … . Well, I forgot my place for a moment. It was just stupid. Thank you.

You are welcome.

Are you real?

He chuckled. Which answer did she prefer, he wondered?

Last I checked I am very real. I could ask you the same question. You've never responded to me before.

You've heard me before?

Yes, the first time was I presume when you received your Hogwarts letter.

Oh yes! That was a memorable day.

I should think so.

Did you always know?

That I was a wizard?

Yes, that.

Mm, no, but I always knew there was the chance as my mother was magical.

Oh.

Silence. He was drifting off when…

Well, I'm sorry to have bothered you.

No bother, really. I was just getting ready to go to sleep.

Me, too.

Good night then, and I stand by my initial statement. I'm sure you weren't stupid.

Good night and thank you. Sleep well.

Same to you.

He debated asking her name, but thought it would be prudent probably not being able to put a face and name with the voice.

He went through the list of muggleborn witches at Hogwarts who were the same year as Harry Potter. It was a good distraction from thinking about Ambrosius and his foolishness.

Who's Ambrosius? The question came a while later. Her voice in his head sounded … sleepy and he wondered why she was still awake.

Can't sleep?

I was, but I think you woke me.

I apologize, he said and meant it. I will try and close my mind off.

Silence.

Can I help?

I don't see how.

Well, excuse me for offering. How many people are you able to communicate with this way? Good night.

Wait.

Too late. He knew this time she was gone. How he knew that was the case he wasn't sure. To add fuel to the fire, his mark was pulsing in a way now that suggested agitation.

Was it her? Was his mark responsible for this? There was something he hadn't thought of until now. He'd just always assumed that while sentient it was just a mark.

He found Poppy in the infirmary the next morning before breakfast. Was this a mistake? Was it something evil? Did he want to know?

"Severus, good morning," the healer said.

He scoffed as he thought of … disrobing in front of this witch that she was the only one to see him in various states of undress over the years other than his mother. There were times he was proud of that fact, proud to be different in that way from his father, Geta, and Ambrosius in that way who liked to chase anything in a skirt. Then there were times, nearing forty with no twin and living in a secluded castle that he thought he was the biggest fool in the world for turning down his brother's … offerings over the years. As if he was going to meet anyone potentially suitable working and living here!

"Good morning, Poppy. Do you have a moment?"

"Of course, are you all right?"

"I am fine, but do have a question that will require me to partially disrobe."

She frowned a bit. This healer had seen him in all number of various states of undress. He'd never willingly come to her before, though. She would likely know that.

He removed his robe, shirt, and undershirt, taking a seat on one of the beds. The infirmary was empty this morning, which he had been counting on. He really didn't want anyone potentially overhearing this. It was embarrassing that he was even asking this.

"What is this?" he asked, pointing to the mark on his chest.

"I'm not sure what you're asking me, Severus." The look in her eyes told him that she knew something. So evidently he'd picked the right person to come to.

"Do you remember it before it turned black? Do you remember how barely noticeable it was when I was a student here? In fact, you may not have even noticed I had the mark as a teenager?"

He hadn't had many reasons to come see her since 1981, thankfully. Surely, though, if she had noticed it she would remember it being barely there when he was a student and black as it was now when she'd tended to him later as an adult.

"Well, yes, now that you mention it. I never thought about it before now. I see a number of patients every year, you know."

"I'm not upset or accusing you of malpractice. I never thought much of it when I was here as a student either. Now I am asking you what it is, though!"

"Tell me why you're asking."

He huffed. She was intentionally avoiding his question, but maybe there was a reason she was wanting to know.

"Until 1979 it was just a mark. As I mentioned, barely noticeable. It was just there. One day after hours of … throbbing and burning it was no longer barely noticeable. But this black thing that resembles a heart of all the bloody things. And now, since then." He shrugged. "I've always just assumed it was, like Hogwarts, sentient."

"You don't think so now?"

"There is a … witch."

"Oh, Severus, that's won…"

"Not like that," he said through gritted teeth. That was all that he needed. The rumour going around that he'd taken a witch to get back to Death Eaters. "I am fairly certain that she is a student here, entering into her fourth year if my calculations are correct. She had received her letter the first time I heard her. There have been times over the last few years I have heard her, but she has seemingly never heard me. Until last night. Prior to yesterday, in fact, I had always taken comfort from the mark. It was as if it could sense when I was angry, overwhelmed, or hurting and worked at counteracting those emotions. That was why I took for granted it was sentient. Yesterday was the first time that I ever felt something from the mark rather than the other way around. Delight and then anxiety were among them. My calm manner was able to curb the throbbing feeling of anxiousness. That has never happened before. It's been quite one-sided. You know me well enough to know delight is not something in my repertoire of feelings."

She smirked with a nod. He was glad she could find this amusing.

"Last night, she was able to hear me. She broke into my attempt to fall asleep, so probably my near unconscious mind and complained of doing something stupid. Unlike in times past she answered me, and claimed she had not been able to hear me before even though I've heard her for years. I didn't try to recite War and Peace to her or anything, but I have tried to answer her."

"Are you looking for an actual answer? Or just reassurance that you're not crazy?"

"Both."

"All right," she said, sitting next to him on the bed. She patted his knee lightly. He couldn't help but smile at the gesture. "First of all, you're not crazy. From what you're describing. It's a soul mark, Severus, and if she's only entering her fourth year she likely hasn't had need of you counteracting any bad or foul moods she's been in. There is some suggestion that until a witch starts her menses she cannot be aware of her soulmate. Her mark would still have responded to your needs, though, answering your needs without her aware she was doing anything to assist you. The day you mention hours of burning and throbbing and it turning from a barely noticeable mark to what you're showing me today. Black and very obvious. I'd say that was the day she was born."

"Impossible," he said, fingers grazing over the mark in question as he thought over what the witch had just said. A soulmate? He had a soulmate? "Who would mark me for a witch?"

"I can't answer that, but I suspect that question wasn't really meant for me. You don't know who she is?"

"Of course not! I didn't know until just now what it was and even if I had I wouldn't pursue someone who had not yet reached the age of majority."

"Okay. You mentioned yesterday it reacted differently than usual. I wonder if what you were feeling wasn't what she was feeling. That you were able to aid her with her anxiousness. Where were you yesterday when that happened?"

"I was at dinner with …" he paused here. As much as he liked Poppy, he still wouldn't confide in her that he had brothers. "A friend."

"And did anything unusual happen?"

"No, it was just dinner."

Except, of course, for Miss Granger coming to his table and actually speaking to him. He hadn't seen or done anything else.

"You have thought of something." She patted his hand and stood. "It's okay if you don't wish to tell me. I assure you that you're fine. There is nothing wrong. Perhaps your ability to communicate in such a fashion is your marks' way of allowing you to get to know one another before she reaches the age of majority in a way that would not appear untoward."

He shook his head. Impossible. He had a soulmate? He had a witch? She had to be wrong.

"May I offer a word of advice, Severus?"

"You're going to anyway," he said as he dressed himself once more.

"Make a friend. She has helped you, you say, for years now. I suspect that would not be unwelcome right now. There is nothing wrong with getting to know someone."

Severus shook his head as he thought over what Poppy just said.

"You are talking about grooming her."

"I am suggesting no such thing, Severus! Really! You know me better than that. Being nice, friendly, with someone is not grooming them. You have a soul mark with someone. That's not a bad thing."

He was admittedly a little surprised Poppy knew what grooming was. She was no fool, though, and was open to muggle ideas and means so he supposed he shouldn't be surprised that she did.

"I will take it under advisement."

He made his way to his lab then, sitting at the desk there.

He ran his hand over the spot on his chest he knew the mark to be.

A soul mark.

Was it possible that that witch was his soulmate?

Merlin's balls. Why would anyone think that was called for? She was annoying on a good day even if she was somewhat less annoying now than her first year.

He set his hands on his desk and calmed himself, clearing his mind. He had plenty to think about: potions to prepare, lessons to put the finishing touches on, another year of keeping James Potter's spawn alive. That didn't even count the threat of the Dark Lord's return. Yes, he used pretty much the same lessons year to year but each year, each class in truth, was different so adjustments had to be made.

Can you hear me?

A soft gasp.

I can.

Now that he knew what to look for to some degree, the state his mind needed to be in. It was easier to replicate the environment seemingly required to communicate this way.

Did he want to do this? He'd never tried to initiate contact before.

I apologize if I upset you last evening.

If she and her emotional state were connected to his mark, well she'd been frustrated at the very least.

It's all right. You don't know me so I can understand why you wouldn't just unload. I was really offering, though.

It was a generous offer. I should not have reacted in such a way. I am unaccustomed to people showing me kindness and caring in such a fashion.

I'm sorry.

Don't be. I'm used to it by now, which is why I do not know how to properly respond to it. Resulting, obviously, in your frustration.

Well, you shouldn't be used to it. No one should get used to that.

He snorted softly at that. He had to be right, that was exactly something he could picture Miss Granger saying.

You were in a good mood briefly yesterday, were you not?

How did you know that?

My mark. I assume you have one, too.

I do.

It seems I sensed your mood. I assume you have sensed mine at times over the years.

There was a thought. Merlin, she could have potentially had a front row seat to some very foul moods and deeds over the past fifteen years.

So what was your good mood for?

Oh, nothing. She was quiet for a moment, but he sensed she wasn't done. I mean, it would be silly to you, I'm sure.

Try me.

I ran into someone that I knew unexpectedly and I found myself happy to see him.

I see. Does he reciprocate?

Silence.

No, I'm sure not. I'm a nuisance I'm sure. He could have died this year because of us.

He closed his eyes. His suspicions as good as confirmed.

She was a nuisance and he could have died because of their going off against the rules at every given turn. However, the truth about Pettigrew and Black had come out as a result. He hated Black, but he could admit an innocent man did not deserve years in Azkaban.

Well, I just wanted to apologize.

Do you know how we're able to do this?

He smirked at that. Of course she would ask questions. Want to know how this was occurring. Until her hearing him last night he hadn't really thought to ask. He was rather ashamed of that. The fact that he could feel something from the mark should have sent him researching.

On the other hand, he'd been a little … busy after the mark changed colours. Two years passed from when the mark changed colour to Voldemort's death. He'd also started teaching in that time as the youngest professor at Hogwarts, having to teach former peers who'd hated and ridiculed him.

I might. I will tell you when I'm able.

Okay. Thank you for thinking to apologize, though I wasn't that upset.

Yes, well, I could have declined your offer in a nicer way.

That is true.

You didn't have to agree with me.

Would you rather I lie? You could have, in actuality, been nicer.

So what were you doing when you ran into this person?

What if he was wrong? What if it wasn't Granger and a mere coincidence?

He didn't think there was such a thing as mere coincidences. He wasn't sure if he would be disappointed he was wrong or not. He'd had three years to get to know the minds and characters of all the witches in her year. She was the only one that, while farfetched, made any amount of sense. Farfetched because who in the hell would think that he was a wizard deserving of a soulmate?

Oh, well, just my school shopping and then dinner with my parents.

Bingo.

I see.

No, you don't. I bothered someone I don't know socially in what was clearly a social situation. He already hates me. I can only imagine what he thought at the gall of me walking up to him like that.

Actually, when he thought about it later in the evening, a while before going to bed, he was … surprised any student had approached him let alone this particular student. He presumed she hated him. And yet, she'd seen him and gone out of her way to say hello. No one would have been the wiser if she hadn't, not even him truthfully because he'd been so focused on Ambrosius he hadn't even bothered to check the restaurant for any familiar faces. Admittedly, he hadn't been as vigilant as usual given he was at a muggle restaurant. He wouldn't do that again! The next time it might not be Hermione Granger who sees him.

Granted, in over fourteen years of spying he had never seen a follower of the Dark Lord at a muggle restaurant. Still, her showing up at his table without him realizing she was even in the restaurant told him he'd gotten entirely too lax in his vigilance with the Dark Lord gone for as long as he had been. Students, though, generally went out of their way to avoid him so he wasn't sure he'd ever thought it necessary to look for them.

He would certainly start now, though.

Why does he hate you?

She was quiet for so long he assumed she wasn't going to answer. Or couldn't answer. Clearly, their connection wasn't constant. He wasn't even sure how it worked, other than she seemed to be able to hear him when he was relaxed and his mind was clear.

Why does anyone hate anyone? I don't really know. I'm muggleborn? My friends?  It's just, of all my professors, he's the most brilliant.

So, he is a professor?

Yes, and I just got excited at seeing him away from the wizarding world. In my world. Doing something so mundane as eating.

What does his being brilliant have to do with anything?

Well, that's a daft question if I've ever heard one.

He scoffed. He wasn't sure he'd ever been called daft before. Well, scratch that. Geta had called him worse than that when Severus had taken the Dark Mark. He hadn't found him daft for falling for Tom Riddle's rhetoric necessarily, but for allowing someone else to permanently mar his body in such a fashion.

I'm sorry?

I'd just love to hear his thoughts on all sorts of things because I can tell that he wouldn't dumb things down for me because I'm simply his student. It's a whole new world I have to learn about, and I know he's intelligent enough to have information.

Well, that answer surprised him. She wanted to talk to him? Really? Merlin, when had he last had the opportunity to share knowledge with someone just for the sake of that and nothing else? He couldn't recall.

May I make a suggestion?

About what?

If I may be so bold, I know a thing about brilliant minds, Hogwarts, and professors.

Okay.

Your professor is not a professor twenty-four hours a day.

What do you mean?

He rolled his eyes. She's not even fifteen yet, cut her some slack.

I mean that professors have personal lives. They do not endeavour to grade papers and exams all day, every day. Use your mind, your own words and your apparent intellect and write a paper within his guidelines that will make him want to talk to you.

Oh, he would never.

Have you tried?

Well, of course not.

Your first assignment of the school year, reach out to me. We can talk about it.

Why?

He shrugged, not that she could see the gesture. Why indeed?

Maybe I'm just a nice guy.

I don't believe you.

You wound me with your doubt.

I'm just not sure it will help.

Will it hurt?

I suppose not.

Until September then?

You never told me who Ambrosius is.

Unimportant.

Again, I don't believe you.

Why not?

You gave me a headache.

I'm sorry?

My heart and my head hurt from your thoughts that night. I could tell whatever you were thinking was … painful.

It did? She hadn't said that before now. He certainly did not relish the idea he'd caused her pain in any capacity. Granger or not.

I do apologize if I caused you any discomfort.

It's okay, I know you didn't mean to.

Well, I just wanted to apologize.

So, you're not a Labyrinth fan?

He paused and all of the sudden had a picture in his mind of an old English sheepdog. With … something … riding it as it would a horse.

Did you do that? he asked

I did.

You caught me. I was having trouble sleeping over a fictional dog. Or is Ambrosius the creature riding said dog?

He heard her laugh in his head.

Well then, Witch, I have things to do with my day that do not allow for me to sit here communicating with you.

Have a good day.

You, too.

He had plenty to do with the new term, her fourth year and with it the Triwizard Tournament, but he found himself going home instead. No one but a select few among the staff knew there was going to be a TriWizard Tournament. Severus thought it was not the time, but Albus could not be reasoned with.

He made his way to the hidden staircase that led to the bedrooms on the second floor. He had long ago taken over the master bedroom as his own. Today, though, he headed to the back bedroom he and Geta had shared as children. It was so small, even now almost twenty years after their family had called this house home, he wondered how they both fit in it. They'd had bunk beds, which had helped.

They'd made do. As if they'd had a choice.

The bunk beds were long gone, but the dresser, desk, and nightstand were the same as they were then. He'd never had guests to care what the room looked like. He ran a fingertip along the carved GS his twin had carved into the desk so many years ago. He'd been punished. As a result Severus and Ambrosius had carved their initials in it, too. An attempt at solidarity. It had seemed … wise at the time.

Now, at nearly thirty-five, he understood his father's anger at what they'd done. It was a nice, sturdy wooden desk. Beating a child, though, was not a response he would ever understand.

He traced the G and then the S with a soft sigh, wishing that he could talk to his twin.

"A soulmate, Geta," he murmured.

"That mark you gave me shit about more than once is a soul mark."

He huffed.

"A soul mark, Geta. Do you have any idea what that means? It means almost thirty-five years ago our maker saw fit to match me up with a witch. And the witch, Geta. You should see her. Ambrosius met her, but I did not know at the time what, or rather who, she was. She is … rather brilliant and not unattractive. She's only fourteen, though. Almost fifteen, I suppose, going by when my mark changed."

He sat on the old chair he'd set in many hours as a child to do his school work or draw.

"She's fucking not even fifteen years old, Geta. What in the fuck am I supposed to do with that? Poppy said to make a friend. We all know how well that went the last time I extended myself in that fashion. I ended up with a Mark on my arm and living the life of a spy."

He rested his head in his hands, shaking his head a bit.

"Oh, Geta, I wish you were here to talk to. I know you'd tell me to take what was mine, but I cannot. Forget my position as her professor, she needs to figure herself out. She does not need to be chained to me. Everything I care for goes to shit. She deserves so much better. It makes me wonder what kind of sense of humour Fate has to mate her with such a wizard."

And yet, he mused, as his mark started throbbing a bit. Was she distressed? Or was she sensing he was and reacting to that? He had no idea anymore how it worked.

"Fuck, I can't do this, Geta. I just can't. My mind was just going in the direction that she was picked for me. So what's wrong with that? I have done and been accused of a lot of things, but sullying a teenager, a student, is not among them."

He grew quiet then, pensive. Why did he have to ask Poppy about the mark today? Why couldn't he just leave well enough alone? He shook his head with a scoff. The very thing he got irritated with Miss Granger about, her inquisitiveness, was what led him to this mood today. It was his fault. If he hadn't asked he wouldn't know!

"And Ambrosius. Can't you haunt him or something to get this idiotic idea out of his mind? He thinks I don't love you or something because I have not avenged your death. He obviously does not understand us. Our conversations. That my being in prison or dead wouldn't bring you back. I'd rather, you'd rather, that I go on and be successful. I wish him luck because haunting seems out of the realm of possibilities for muggles. Mum, however, is magical. If you see her, tell her to talk sense into her youngest son."

Severus scoffed at that because Ambrosius wouldn't hear her anyway being muggle.

He shifted a bit on the chair, tilting his head back. His eyes found the ceiling, chuckling slightly at the small holes above this spot. He and Geta had tossed more than one pencil into the ceiling while doing their schoolwork as youths. He'd forgotten about doing that until now.

"All right, Geta, thank you for listening. I have to get to work. This year is going to be hectic, the castle full of not just Hogwarts students. I don't know what Albus was thinking with the Dark Lord's attempts at returning getting more intense every year. Albus knows best, though."

He stood then, pushing the chair back in its spot under the desk. Time to get back to school and onto his routine. He vowed not to think of Hermione Granger until he saw her in the halls again September first.

Story ©Susan Falk/APCKRFAN/PhantomRoses.com