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"What is wrong with you this evening, Severus? Is Master Leitner being too hard on you," his brother Geta asked.

The tone he'd used with the second question was dripping with sarcasm. It was one used with a small child feeling they were being treated unfairly on the schoolyard. As if he was implying Master Leitner would be too taxing for Severus.

Geta had no idea who the Dark Lord really was or what he was about. Severus had told him about Voldemort, but he hadn't told him every nitty gritty detail. He couldn't, really. There were things as accepting of the magical world as his brother was that he just wouldn't, couldn't, understand. This was one of them.

His twin did not understand the difficulties Severus experienced at Hogwarts. The sole difference that existed between the two brothers, Geta acclimated to his environment far better and easier than Severus did. He always had. The primary school they'd attended in Cokeworth was in their neighbourhood. So, the fellow students were of the same socioeconomic background as the Snapes were. He did not understand how different Hogwarts had been, how different Severus had been compared to most of the other students. Feeling, despite knowing he was magical and received his letter, that he didn't belong there.

So while his brother was aware he wasn't as knowledgeable as he could be. There were limits to what he could share, even Severus knew that. Geta seemed to know, and accept, this as well.

To think any of Master Leitner's initiations would have come close to what Severus had to do to not just be accepted as a Death Eater but earn the position he had thus far was laughable.

"Nothing and no, he is not. No more than I'd expect him to be at any rate," he said.

A potions apprenticeship was not expected to be easy. At least Severus had not expected it to be so. He supposed some might enter into it differently.

His Dark Lord had given him a few masters to choose from when the topic of an apprenticeship was brought up. He'd thought at that meeting that he was going to be more severely punished than he ended up being. Telling the Dark Lord so soon after his initiation that he wanted to leave had not gone … well.

Eventually, though, the Dark Lord had seen that having a potions master as capable as Severus showed the potential of being in his inner circle could behoove him immensely. So the torture for the audacity of thinking he could take the Mark and then leave without talking it over with his Dark Lord first had stopped after a while and a short list of like-minded masters had been given to Severus.

He'd chosen Leitner because he was maybe not exceptional but certainly was known to be beyond great at his chosen vocation. Severus didn't want anything handed to him, and if he was going to commit two (or more) years of his life he wanted all the education and then some he could get out of the arrangement. No other approved master had offered that opportunity.

While like-minded to the Dark Lord's thought process, he wasn't deep in it. Severus didn't want that in his studies. He wanted to be able to focus on his studies not worry that he and his master would be shuttled off here and there. He, of course, had kept that part influencing his decision at all to himself.

No, it wasn't his apprenticeship or anything like that.

A year into it now, he knew without a doubt he was on the right path. Anyone could wave a wand. Not everyone could do what he could with potions. (Truthfully, not many could do what he could do with a wand either.)

He rubbed his chest a bit with a sigh, wondering what the devil was going on. He'd never experienced anything remotely like this.

Almost twenty years old and he'd never felt anything like this either. He'd been beaten by his father, the Marauders, and Death Eaters. He bore the scars to prove it, not all of them physical either. He could admit that.

This was different but no less disconcerting and painful.

Certainly a different type of pain. Bearable. Not something he wished to die from, just wanted it to stop.

He was too young for anything like heartburn or a heart attack.

The only spot on his body where he and his twin were not identical was what was … burning and throbbing today. He had a birthmark that looked peculiarly like a heart on his chest just above where his heart was. Severus and Geta had spent many hours exploring to see if Geta had a similar mark anywhere on his body.

He did not.

The only good thing? The location of it meant it was covered by a shirt so the boys were impossible to tell apart by anyone but their mother. Even when they were shirtless it was so faint that to the untrained eye it was barely discernible. He and Geta saw the difference, though.

As they'd long ago stopped being given a bath by their mother or taking one together at all, Severus wondered if their mum even remembered the mark existed. He was fairly confident their father was not aware of this difference in his twin sons, even as babies he didn't believe their sire paid them that close of attention.

He himself hadn't given it much thought for years. It was just a birthmark.

Millions had them.

Even if his identical twin did not.

Today, though.

Well, for several hours now, he wasn't sure how long because it started while he was sleeping, the birthmark had been … burning. Not like the Dark Mark, but still he knew what magic felt like and this was that. And if whatever the mark was that Severus had and Geta didn't was magical it would make sense that his twin did not have it.

Certainly, it wasn't nearly as unpleasant as the torture and abuse he'd been subject to, but it was … annoying. Especially given it's suddenness. It had started very early in the morning, disrupting his normally rather restful sleep, as a kind of dull ache but progressively it had gotten almost unbearable as the day wore on.

Finally, after what seemed like hours and the pain so sharp it felt like he was being stabbed he opened his shirt with a flick of his wrist.

"What do you see?" he asked.

"Your lily white skin," Geta said deadpan.

"Thank you for stating the obvious," Severus drawled.

"In truth, your birthmark. Is that what you're asking me about? Because it appears … darker, black now I'd say. I realize it's been some time, years I suppose, since I've seen it, but I don't recall it looking like this."

Severus summoned a hand mirror he knew Geta had in the nearby bathroom. His … female guests used that bathroom and they seemed to like to use such things to primp in an attempt at impressing him and claiming the evidently coveted position as Mrs. Hans Gruber.

Severus looked in the mirror and shook his head as he ran the tip of his index finger over the mark in question. For the burning it had been doing for hours now it should be red and festered looking.

Until now it'd been a barely noticeable light brown, like an almost translucent freckle just shaped like a heart. The only reason he had even really noticed it was that his mum had made such a huge deal about him being born with a heart on the outside and the inside.

This, though, was no longer barely noticeable. It was black and if he didn't know better seemed to be … beating. Like the staccato of a pulse, but there was no pulse point there.

"I think I'll take that whiskey now," he murmured.

And Geta laughed.

"Bastard," he hissed.

"It's why you love me."

Severus nodded simply. His brother was right. In life there was one thing Severus Snape knew he could count on.

Geta Snape.

His twin knew the same in reverse.

Thankfully, Albus hadn't questioned Severus' request for the weekend off. His potions professor and spy rarely took time off so his employer, the headmaster, could hardly say no to his request. He wouldn't put it past Albus to do so, though, just to be difficult. His boss, and essentially his current master, did not like not knowing what Severus was up to. Seven years in and Severus didn't think Albus completely trusted him.

Then the old wizard trusted few so Severus supposed he should feel honoured he was among the few to have gained any from the wizard.

Still, there were no classes to be taught since it was a weekend. It was not a Hogsmeade weekend, he had no rounds, and he ensured that he was caught up on his grading and the potions he had to provide for Poppy and St. Mungo's.

Of course, spending a mid-June weekend in Iceland wasn't exactly his idea of a peaceful respite away from Hogwarts and Scotland. He sure wished his brother could find somewhere warmer that tended not to extradite wanted criminals to other countries, but beggars (or thieves in his brother's case) couldn't be choosers. Geta had chosen Iceland for a reason, and Severus couldn't fault his brother for wanting to protect himself. Severus wanted to protect himself, too.

He should have known when Geta requested his presence that it wasn't just to catch up. Identical as they were in appearance and basic mannerisms, the fact that Geta was muggle and Severus was magical was about the only difference between the twins. Severus wouldn't have invited Geta to go away when he was in the middle of planning for a job anymore than Geta would normally have called him away this weekend knowing he was working on a whim. School would be out within weeks. He could have done it then.

He should have known that meant he had an agenda.

It was about a year ago that they'd gotten together last and Geta had told him he was ready to call it quits as a criminal mastermind and live the life of an average man. He had over ten years of success without capture and was in a position to live off his earnings for the rest of life, and possibly another one if he had the longevity of a wizard. He was in the process of researching one final job, the one he could retire after and know he'd done what few could pull off.

This job could make it possible for Severus to leave the wizarding world, too.

While Severus was struggling as a student at Hogwarts, taking the Dark Mark, earning his stripes to gain entry into the Dark Lord's inner circle, apprenticing to be a potions master, and more recently working as a professor and spy; Geta Snape was building a reputation and an enterprise that few could usurp or topple as Hans Gruber. Ten years later he was virtually untouchable. In part because no one knew his real identity.

It was hard to catch someone who left no trail to follow.

Hans Gruber was revered and respected. Feared by those who thought they might fall on his radar of potential targets. Severus was, in truth, a bit envious of his twin. He'd accomplished what Severus had thought he would obtain by taking the Mark.

While Severus was learning to become an exceptional wizard, his brother was busy on the seedy Cokeworth streets becoming an exceptional thief. And teaching their younger brother the ropes before relocating to Germany because it seemed their younger brother had no actual plan on what to do with life. Severus couldn't take him in, he wasn't magical.

Severus assisted with their survival to some degree.

First there was the Gringotts vault Severus opened in Germany where Geta had been based out of for the last decade or so. He'd used a secondary wand that Geta had possession of and ensured the paperwork would allow Geta or Severus in with a proper password and key, they each had one. Both knew where the other one was kept, too, in the event one forgot.

The account helped because when money was changed into galleons it was difficult, virtually impossible really, to trace by muggles. Gringotts' goblins questioned very little as to where money they were changing came from. Too, these days Geta didn't have to convert all of his spoils to galleons. In fact, as far as Severus knew he didn't have to convert any any longer. He had a store of galleons in the vault to change into whatever currency he needed so he could just put the latest takings in his vault and let it sit.

The vault was the biggest thing Severus had helped him with. Geta had chosen Germany because it was near where Severus was doing his apprenticeship. No longer having to be separated by an unplottable castle, the twins did not want to be any further apart than they needed to be. So, Geta had followed. Severus didn't think his brother had any quibbles about the move. It had proven very profitable to him.

Currently, they were outside Reykjavík in a home that no one but Severus and their younger brother knew about. Iceland was a country known to refuse extradition and few could get to him without him being aware of an interloper onto the property.

The security for his homes were the other thing Severus had assisted Geta with. In addition to a state of the art muggle security system, Severus had established a magical alarm system around the perimeters of his properties that would even alert his muggle brother to an intruder. The wards wouldn't stop someone from getting through or to the house, that was beyond what Severus wanted to attempt to do in muggle areas for his brother. Nothing happened to anyone crossing onto the property, Geta was just alerted to a presence.

If he wasn't aware someone was visiting he could take to his panic room and wait it out.

Geta had been going through some details with Severus about his most recently planned job. This was nothing new. He always liked to bounce things off someone who knew his mind better than anyone, and wasn't afraid of being beaten or shot for telling him he was a dunderhead.

This was the job he would be able to retire after. God willing. Severus tried to imagine being in a position to retire at the age of twenty-eight, twenty-nine he supposed by the time this last job actually occurred. His brother mentioned still being a half of a year or so away from executing his plan. Severus would still have to work. Honestly he couldn't imagine not working.

Certainly, ten years ago when his brother was branching out independently and he was working toward his mastery he assumed he would be in a position to have a relatively easy life. He, Geta, and Ambrosius could enjoy the fruits of their labour and efforts in style.

He still wasn't sure how his life had taken such a drastic turn. How had he allowed himself to be … taken in so severely? He and Geta had engaged in many conversations on that subject over the years yielding no firm conclusion. Other than Severus had been a fool and evidently craved something that Geta didn't provide him.

Something that Voldemort had, or had seemed to.

He still hadn't figured out what that was.

They'd both learned from Severus' experiences. Neither would act the fool again.

His brother was nothing if he wasn't methodical and particular. He would leave nothing to chance. There was always a risk and Geta had long ago told Severus he'd eat the cyanide packet he planted in his mouth before every job before facing prison.

Some would call that cowardly, however, Severus and Geta both found it … practical.

Severus couldn't blame his brother. He wouldn't want to spend years in prison either and he didn't have the … rich tastes his brother did. For sure, Severus liked nice things, but he preferred spending more on the things that he truly wanted. Geta enjoyed surrounding himself with many fashionable things whether he truly wanted or even liked them or not.

"And you are sure this will work," Severus asked his twin. He would have a bigger team on this job and he would be counting on people reacting the way he assumed they would.

"Positive," he said, accentuating the German accent he'd become proficient with over the years. Severus wondered if any of his crew knew Hans Gruber was, in fact, not German but very British.

Sometimes Severus wondered if Hans Gruber remembered that fact. (Severus reminded him of it being so more than occasionally just because he could.)

Severus looked at him dubiously but nodded. The hacker he'd paired up with did seem … capable. Not that the wizard knew much of anything about computers. However, his brother was no less intelligent than he was. So if Geta vetted him and found him capable after working on more than a few jobs with him.

Then he was.

Even if he had changed his name to something more ridiculous sounding than Geta (and Severus) Snape.

Hans Gruber.

Severus snorted not for the first time, and likely not the last, at the thought of the name his brother had chosen over ten years ago now.

Did people actually believe that was his real name?

He'd changed it to protect Severus and their younger brother, Ambrosius (who now went by Simon, something equally as unoriginal as Hans). Their parents had nothing to do with their decision process. None of the boys could give a shit about their parents opinions of them.

Why he never thought to come up with a different name from the ridiculous one his parents bestowed upon him as his twin and younger sibling had done he wasn't sure. Other than Severus did fit with the magical world. It was certainly original and garnered respect from those who knew their muggle history.

"And you are thinking December or January?"

"I am," Hans said with a nod as he took a sip from his tumbler of whiskey. Severus did the same. "Theo and I are analyzing the various information we've received and have access to through various avenues."

Severus nodded. A time table.

Six more months.

A little more than one last term of dealing with dunderheads and Albus' twinkling eyes.

Six more months of servitude. And there was no question that being indentured to Albus Dumbledore was servitude just the same as under the Dark Lord had been. There were times he thought he'd prefer the beatings and torture to the guilt Albus tried to keep him buried in.

He could do this.

Geta had always promised him that when it was time for him to get out he would ensure Severus could get out, too. He'd told Geta the day Lily's son would be at Hogwarts was nearing. He'd also mentioned Albus' insistence that the Dark Lord would be returning.

Neither twin wanted Severus to go through that.

An opportunity to start over. 

Blank slates.

The two of them.

Separately, of course, but aware of one another's location. And this property known about.

They could be anything they wanted. They both had the minds to do whatever they set them to. Hell, Severus was more than just fairly certain he could teach Geta the basics in potions making if his brother thought he couldn't lay low amongst muggles after this heist.

No, his brother wasn't giving him half or any such nonsense.

Severus wouldn't … expect that. He was doing the heavy lifting and risking his life as it were. Severus had assisted him over the years to where he didn't feel as if he was taking handouts. His brother just wouldn't disappear, leaving his twin in potential danger anymore than Severus would do to him. He would want to know Severus was safe from harm before disappearing.

As Harry Potter's imminent return to the magical world got closer, Severus Snape found himself wanting out more and more. In three years the boy would be here, Severus would have to teach the prat's son. Who knew what he might have been taught by Petunia Dursley. Severus sneered at the thought of that cow of a woman. How had someone even married her?

He hadn't heard about it, his invitation to her wedding had obviously gotten lost in the mail. (Or not.) Albus had been the one to tell him she'd married when he'd mentioned where and with whom the Potter child was staying. He'd wanted Severus' input on the area and if there were things that he should or shouldn't do magically speaking as far as protection for the boy in the neighbourhood.

There was the remote possibility, of course, that the child would not be magical, but he doubted it.

This life wouldn't grant him any such favours.

Certainly not that one.

Albus seemed pretty certain the boy would be attending Hogwarts.

Severus was pretty sure if there was a chance for something to go to shit in his life, it would. Having to teach James Potter's son would be one form of personal hell he'd prefer to avoid.

He wasn't sure he bought Albus' musings about the Dark Lord's return, however, if anyone was capable of achieving such a feat it was Tom Riddle. Severus knew that a second round of spying and giving into the Dark Lord's whims wasn't going to end well for him. How could it?

He had enough scars, thank you very much. Wasn't having Lily die anyway punishment enough?

So, no, he wasn't expecting half of this heist his brother had planned and was going to implement even if he was part of the reason Hans came up with the idea of such a large payout as his final curtain call.

Hans was giving him enough to see about getting the Dark Mark and its magical power removed and to settle into a nice life for himself in whatever small magical community he wished to settle in.

He already (discreetly) researched and picked out the magical healer in remote Thailand who he was fairly confident could remove the tattoo and the magic that controlled it completely.

Nice thing about Thailand.

They didn't give a shit about another country's politics. So the woman he had heard rumblings about being proficient in such things should keep her mouth shut as long as she got paid for her services. (He shuddered to think of the other people she'd assisted who had marks such as his Dark Mark and their … purposes. None could be good. That should have been his first clue that the Dark Lord was not someone he wanted to follow. Hindsight, of course, was twenty-twenty,)

He would have a small apothecary and live a quiet life with plenty of books and he would be far, far away from Hogwarts, another Potter, war, the Dark Lord, and snowy winters. There was no doubt when Geta pulled this off Severus would have to flee. Eventually, they would realize that Hans Gruber wasn't his true name and that would lead the muggle authorities to their Cokeworth home's doorstep. A heist like this didn't get pulled without heads rolling and lots of attention on the other side of it being pulled off.

And that could potentially lead to questions.

Questions that would make Albus Dumbledore doubt him and his loyalties. (How Severus having a twin had escaped Albus' notice the wizard still hadn't a clue to this day. Other than the fact the old man just hadn't been looking for it. What were the odds one would be muggle and the other magical?)

As if getting tortured wasn't proof he'd truly changed sides! Then again maybe Albus didn't think beyond the wizarding world and wasn't concerned with what he might be up to out amongst muggles.

Questions that would make people wonder how much he knew. He was a master at occlumency, but Albus wouldn't like something so unseemly being associated with one of his professors.

He loved Geta and Ambrosius like, well, the brothers they were but he had not turned traitor and succumbed to the torture he had at the hands of Voldemort for the Order just to go to prison for either one of them. He had chosen the wrong side for a while, but turned himself around. He wasn't going to go back. He couldn't. He was fairly sure his soul couldn't weather that. Yes, it took the threat to Lily for that to happen but he'd still done it. He likened it to an alcoholic not able to see what they were doing until they hit their bottom. The threat to Lily was his bottom. He had managed somehow to stay on the right path to this day.

There was nothing stopping him, after all, from continuing to pursue his interest in the dark arts away from Voldemort. He didn't need a Dark Lord or to follow someone for that. He would always keep abreast of those things. He had to. Someone had to, and he would not rely on anyone else to do so capably. He no longer had an … interest in going down that road.

Their meeting last year had consisted of Geta approaching him, wanting to know if magic could help them with this heist. He did this with more than just a few of his more complicated jobs over the years. It was one of the things that made Geta an exceptional thief, he was aware magical resources existed, might be an option, and wasn't afraid to ask his brother if there were any that could be used on various jobs.

Severus hadn't sought him out, he never did. He didn't like knowing his siblings were living the dangerous lives they'd chosen. The past few years of spying after Voldemort's demise hadn't been overly dangerous. Severus knew who to approach with caution or not be alone with. Some wanted him dead for his traitorous testimony. Some, like Lucius Malfoy, were willing to forgive something they believed he did for love. For a witch, even if she was a muggleborn.

The Dark Lord was dead, but that didn't mean those who followed him and shared his beliefs were gone. Albus wanted to know who was doing and saying what. Severus had to this point heard nothing about the return of the Dark Lord. He kept his ear to the ground, though, staying friendly with those who would have him.

That was a year ago. Honestly, Severus had assumed Geta had decided it wasn't worth the risk or moved onto something else. Or just decided he didn't want to get out yet.

He'd offered Severus a cut for his assistance as he always did. This job's cut was just a bit more generous than usual knowing it was going to be the last. Geta wanted Severus free of his bonds, all of them both literal and physical. Well, he wasn't going to turn up his nose at the possibility of getting out, too. That did not mean he wanted the muggle authorities coming after him. He'd dealt with them more than a few times over the years at their house before their parents died.

Geta and Ambrosius had as well in dealings with their father. Domestic disturbances (the legal jargon representing abuse), drunken disorderlies, public indecency (usually urinating in public as a result of the drunkenness), petty theft, and vandalism had all been among the things their father had been accused of at various times.

There was no way the police would just let Severus go with a "have a nice day" if his brother was caught in this endeavour of his.

Would his crew turn on him? Most important would Theo? Theo was rather crucial, essentially the lynchpin, to this plan it sounded like. Geta seemed to trust him, and Severus believed they'd worked together for a while now. The wizard Severus introduced him to a few years ago and would reintroduce him to again soon it seemed would serve him well as he had in the past.

The first time Geta had approached him about a wizard he could use, Severus had scoffed at the very idea. Did his brother think he would truly let those he knew in the magical world become aware that he had a brother and that that brother was a criminal?

His initial request had been met with a staunch ‘no' from Severus and a hearty laugh at the audacity of his brother thinking he would risk that exposure. He did have a reputation to protect. Their mother's maiden name meant something in the wizarding world, even if Geta didn't know that.

And yet, the more he'd thought on his brother's request Severus came to a realization.

He would do whatever he could to ensure his brother was able to perform his jobs and come home alive afterward. If his brother thought a wizard might assist with that, who was he to argue?

There were Death Eaters that Severus loathed with every breath he took. He'd made a list of … options. At the top of the list were those he despised most for various reasons. So, he'd offered up Otis Behrens and obliviated the idiot after every job Geta had used him on to this point. If Behrens got caught he had no real information to turn anyone in. Geta ensured that and Behrens was always approached third hand so he had no idea Severus was involved in singling him out.

And should something bad happen to that fucking bastard? Well, Severus wouldn't shed tears over his demise. He was one of the worst when it came to Lily's death, harping on Severus about it and her apparent fickleness as well as her blood status.

Severus as Geta would approach Behrens at the end of each job with his payment, watching as the pathetic wizard's eyes changed from excitement over his pay day to the blankness of recalling nothing as he obliviated him. With the obliviate came the forfeiture of his payment, of course.

Severus and Geta got a good laugh out of the thought of the schmuck coming to in a Munich alleyway with no recollection of how he got there and no money for his efforts every time it happened over the years.

It was one of the many things that he loved about Geta. He didn't need or want to know why Severus hated Behrens. His twin did, it was good enough for Geta to hate him, too.

And Geta and Severus both had the means to embarrass and make a fool of him.

Repeatedly.

"All right."

"And that Behrens wizard will cooperate again?"

"I'm sure that he will," Severus said with a snort.

Ten years in and the idiot hadn't seemed to recognize the signs of his memories being altered several times now. Severus never wiped the memory of their "chance" meetings completely, only altered it so he had no memory of Severus referring him for a job. "If not, he's not the only … expendable former Death Eater I can send your way."

"Very well. I'll send an owl when I think we're coming to the point of needing his services."

Severus nodded. Geta could have his own owl. They corresponded enough for it to be a convenient and worthwhile purchase, but neither wanted that traceability. It was tiresome at times because while Severus had his pick of any random Hogwarts owl, Geta did not.

"And Ambrosius is sitting this one out?"

"He hates when you call him that."

He rolled his eyes. "I refuse to call him Simon. Ambrosius at least has … meat and power to it. Simon is just ridiculous."

"You think Hans is ridiculous as well."

"I do, of course," he nodded in agreement. He did, in fact, think Hans Gruber was a ridiculous name. There was one difference between the two brothers, though. "You, however, have earned my respect. Ambrosius has done little but follow in your footsteps and ride your coattails. Could he plan this, do you think?"

Ambrosius had the disadvantage of being uprooted and moving to Germany with Geta after their dad's death. Their mum had gone first and while maybe their father had not kept a good home, Ambrosius had at least been able to go to school. Their father followed their mum shortly after and their fourteen year old brother had to go somewhere. Severus was too immersed in the wizarding war and its aftereffects to step up. Geta had done so, which probably worked out better anyway. (Or not, considering Ambrosius' criminal career path.)

Geta scoffed. "No, he's not ready for something this intricate yet. I've included him in things so that he can understand why I'm taking the steps I am. He is getting there, though, Brother. He is a good second."

Severus wasn't sure their younger brother was aware the two of them were going to ride off into the sunset post haste after this job was complete. Severus certainly hadn't told him and he doubted Geta had either.

Not that either of them planned on abandoning their brother. No, but the three of them could not be seen together. Geta and Severus especially. Ambrosius. Well he was a scrappy fellow who would no doubt survive and succeed. No one would be the wiser as to his being related to Severus and Geta.

What was more, unlike Geta having a twin there was nothing connecting Simon Classen (though most everyone it seemed believed Simon's last name was Gruber) to either of them. One only had to take a look at Severus and Geta to know they were related. Muggle authorities weren't entirely inept. So Severus could not traipse about the world after his twin pulled off a heist of this one's seeming magnitude. Ambrosius did not have the familiarity with magic that Geta did either being he was barely older than a toddler when Severus left for Hogwarts.

Ambrosius looked nothing like the two of them either. Where their hair was brown and their eyes as close to black as they could be, Ambrosius' hair was a rather dirty blonde. The only thing stopping Geta and Severus from being certain their mother had been unfaithful to their father was the fact he had brown eyes. Lighter than theirs but still brown.

And the nose.

He had the Snape nose.

The one thing that his father had so generously passed onto all three of his sons that was "distinguished", which of course the boys all hated. No one else had their nose and it was the source of ridicule for all of them from the moment they stepped within the walls of their various educational institutions. Severus and Geta had at least had each other, Ambrosius had no one.

"And you are sure you do not want a … sampling of my offerings tonight, Brother?"

Severus scoffed again.

"No," he said.

He did not want a woman. At least not in the way he'd come by it here. Or however many Hans Gruber brought with him for this weekend's excursion (and would ask Severus to obliviate their memory of everything specific about the weekend before leaving).

He'd had a few years now to come to terms with the fact that Lily had never been his woman, James Potter in the picture or not. He had nothing but time on his hands some days down in the dungeons by himself while he did potions work and prepared for classes.

It was the only thing that he had not come clean with Geta about.

He preferred realizing that he'd been a complete imbecile who mistook friendship and attention for something that it just wasn't (and really from what he could ascertain never had the potential of being) privately. So, his brother, like Albus, seemed to believe he was carrying a torch for a deceased woman. He had yet to meet a woman who captured his attentions in any way shape or form so he was willing to let them believe it. It was better than them thinking there was something … wrong with him. Physical attributes while pleasing to look at were not what would attract Severus. He needed more than just a pretty face.

Any woman here would be his brother's castoffs, or someone his brother brought here with the purposes of bedding Severus. He wanted none of that as they were likely paid in some way or another to do so.

One day, away from here and with the Mark but a memory he would see about pursuing that avenue. Until then it was a fool's errand. Another thing (person) to either leave behind or fill in on the Snape secrets.

"Well, there is plenty of this left," he said, holding up his tumbler.

No guff, no innuendos. Just acceptance. And perhaps a soft sigh of wishing his brother would move on from that redhead. (Geta never liked her. He, thankfully, had never once said "I told you so" in the almost seven years she'd been gone.)

"Thank you."

Neither brother drank to excess. Memories of their father and how easy it would likely be to become him kept them from doing it more than socially.

One thing he did know as he headed to his room for the night after he and his brother had finished their commiserating. This wouldn't be the last weekend they spent at this home in Iceland. It would be the only place Geta aka Hans would show himself for quite some time once he went into hiding and changed his identity again.

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.

"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.

"You remember your promise, Severus," Albus reminded him none too subtly.

As if he had forgotten.

As if he would ever forget.

As if he could ever forget.

"I remember. It doesn't mean I have to like it, or him. You cannot make me do that!"

"Just remember to do what you can to ensure he makes it to the age of adulthood."

Severus rolled his eyes, unsure why he had been picked to be Harry Potter's bloody protector. Albus' idea of a perverse joke, for certain. Or his version of hell on earth. Severus wasn't sure which it was. Probably both.

"We seem to be having a problem getting his letter to him. It's his eleventh birthday in a few days."

Severus rolled his eyes at that. As if he didn't know that. He recalled when the boy's birthday was. His … past was rather intertwined with the fact he was born at the end of July. There were times he wondered if Albus remembered that Severus knew these things.

"You were the one who placed him with Lily's muggle relative who hates magic and the cow's family, Albus."

"Severus," the headmaster said in that chastising tone Severus knew well. He didn't like when Severus insulted people in such a way. Petunia deserved it! "It was important."

"Evidently. Well, let's hope the boy gets here then."

"Oh, he will be here," Albus said, his eyes twinkling. It made Severus wonder what he had planned. He might just enjoy seeing Petunia's reaction to whatever his boss and master had up his sleeve. Severus could admit the man had a sense of humour at times. "Just don't forget your promise."

"I have given you my word. Over ten years now I haven't gone back on that. I will not forget."


It was when he was drifting off to sleep that night that he heard it.

I'm a witch.

He sat up, casting a luminous but all was right in his quarters. A quick search netted him nothing. Not unexpected. No one would dare venture in here and the castle was empty except for Filch. He wouldn't bother Severus. Albus, of course, but he had better things to do than play tricks on Severus Snape. He needed to figure out how to get Harry Potter through the doors of Hogwarts in a little over a month now.

I'm a witch.

This time when he heard it his birthmark burned much like it had many years ago at his brother's home when it had changed colours.

He closed his eyes, turned his mind off, and let his subconscious take over.

Does that frighten you?

His question was met with silence.

"You're an idiot," he murmured to the darkness that was his empty room.

Is there someone there?

Yes, he replied.

Silence again.

What in Merlin's name?

I'm a witch.

He sighed.

It was obviously hopeless. He wasn't even sure what he'd been attempting to do.

He drifted off to sleep to the sound of what was most certainly a Hogwarts' acceptance letter being read to him. The voice was very obviously female so it wasn't Harry Potter, even at eleven it was clear this was a female speaker. That had been his first thought, his discussion about the wizard with Albus earlier led to this. That was obviously not the case.

If he was more awake he'd probably be more curious but as it was the tone of the words as they were read (repeatedly) was enough to send him to sleep.

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.

Are you there? You said you'd help me with my first assignment. Ageing Potion. I don't know how you can help me with that. Everything I've read seems to suggest it's pretty straight forward.

He'd avoided answering her for days. It was the night before her paper on Ageing Potion was due. He knew this, of course, because he was the one who'd handed out the assignment. She, obviously, did not know that.

Read your paper to me.

I'd assumed you were insincere.

Just a little busy.

He listened as she read. It wasn't awful, but it wasn't outstanding either. For whatever reason, she trusted books entirely too much.

Okay. Now. Tell me about Ageing Potion. Not what the books in Hogwarts' library tell you about it, which is what your paper is currently doing. You tell me. In your words. When would be an appropriate time to use it, for example?

Well, I don't know. I mean muggleborns might use it if they wanted to vote or to get into a club. I suppose law enforcement could use it to be less recognizable as well as to more appropriately fit in.

What do you mean?

Well, if they were doing surveillance for example, people would be less suspect of an older man or woman sitting on a park bench than of someone young. If they had reason to be suspicious, of course.

And now she was thinking. Outside of a textbook.

Now come up with, what was the assignment?

Eight inches.

All right. Come up with eight inches on how Ageing Potion could help law enforcement. Or if you prefer how it could hinder law enforcement. Not ten not twelve. Not six. Eight.

But…

Eight, Witch. Do not quote a book, quote your mind, your imagination. When you're finished let me know and I will hear it again.

I don't…

I do.

Merlin, if he could use this … soul mark connection they seemed to have to get her out of the habit of regurgitating books and opening her mind to the possibilities of not just potions but everything. She would be quite the formidable witch upon leaving here in three years. And ease not just his workload but every professor at Hogwarts by her realizing she should not be submitting inches and inches over the assigned amount while he was at it.

Think if every student turned in four extra inches with every assignment. To every professor. They have lives that they would like to get to sooner rather than later.

Silence. Had he said too much? Did she realize that he … knew her?

They like my papers.

I'm sure that they do. They will like them even better if you can turn in an assignment within their guidelines with your own thoughts that show you know how to use that brain of yours to process facts and information. Again, one thousand students each turning in extra inches.

Fine.

I shall look forward to hearing the result.

He sighed, hoping this wasn't a mistake, but even if she didn't know what the mark was he did. Wasn't it his job to at least ensure she could function in this world? Wasn't that what a mate would do? Prepare her for her future, hopefully free of the Dark Lord.

An owl arrived for him, and he shook his head as he retrieved the letter from it before offering it a treat.

"Oh Ambrosius," he said, recognizing his brother's handwriting. "What do you have up your sleeve now?"

Dear Severus,

My team and I are in the beginning stages of our planning. It is going well. There is still room for you.

Love,

Simon

Short and to the point. Certainly not sweet as it was a fool's errand as far as Severus was concerned. It was times like this that Ambrosius' jealousy at the closeness Severus and Geta formed and enjoyed throughout their life came through. Either that or he was just wired differently because to Severus' thinking.

Well, you make choices in life. Geta's was to be a criminal and to attempt the heist to end all heists. He knew going into it, just as he knew with every one prior to the one in Los Angeles that had taken his life, that each one could be his last.

Severus had chosen to change sides, to turn spy. He knew that his life came with a short shelf life as a result of that. He would be lucky to be able to pull off still being on Voldemort's side after all of these years if and when the wizard succeeded at returning. He'd been very careful, Albus was aware, to make it seem as if he regretted his spying over the years. He hated it, because he'd changed over the years and the idea that people saw him like that bothered him.

However, he had committed to doing a job. Defeating Voldemort. He knew that he likely wouldn't get out of it with his life intact this go around. He had no idea how the Dark Lord was managing these … attempts, but he had no doubt when he succeeded that he would not relinquish his life a second time so stupidly as he had the first time. And with that, Severus would likely need to forfeit his, in Albus' words, for the greater good.

Ambrosius' team wasn't as cohesive as Geta's had been either. Other than the woman, but Severus wan't so sure his younger brother wasn't thinking with his cock instead of his brain when it came to including her on the job. That spelled trouble, distraction. His brother wouldn't listen to him, clearly as he was still going through with this despite him telling him their brother would not want it!

He burned the letter with a shake of his head.

Hopefully, the evening would end on a better note, assuming she actually took his suggestions to heart and rewrote her paper. He wasn't entirely sure that she would.

"Class dismissed," he said the day he'd returned the graded essays on Ageing Potion to the fourth years. "Miss Granger, please remain behind."

Her friends weren't the only ones shocked by the request. Some of the Slytherins, less practiced in keeping their emotions under control, had their mouths hanging open.

"I said class dismissed, unless you'd all prefer to serve detention if you like it in my classroom so much."

"Detention? Did he say you're getting detention?" This was said by Weasley.

"I'm sure he didn't mean that," Potter said. "Come on. It's Hermione."

"Yeah, but."

"Was I unclear in my instructions?"

Weasley visibly swallowed and finally he, Potter, and Longbottom took their leave as did everyone else. He watched as she made her way toward his desk. The burning of his soul mark told him that she was feeling something not overly pleasant.

He slid the parchment that contained her essay toward the portion of the desk she was sitting nearest.

"Do you recognize this?"

"Yes, Sir, it's my Ageing Potion paper." She touched it, no doubt noticing the Exceeds Expectations that was written at the top. In addition to the Exceeds Expectations, she would be drawn attention to the fact that there were no marks in red ink whatsoever on the eight, exactly eight, inches other than the grade.

"Well, it's someone's Ageing Potion paper at any rate."

"Sir?"

"Who did you pay to do this for you?"

"I didn't."

"Miss Granger, do not lie to me."

"I'm not lying to you."

"I have been trying for three years to get you to turn in a paper such as this one. I find it immensely difficult to believe you suddenly decided this year not to tax my brain by turning in feet of an essay versus the inches I asked for. And I did not see anything that came directly from a book."

"It's my paper."

"Fine. We'll play it your way. Detention. This evening. My classroom. Eight o'clock and you can expect to be scrubbing cauldrons so dress accordingly."

"But Sir."

"Maybe a few hours of scrubbing cauldrons will loosen your lips in who aided you with this assignment."

"No one!"

"We'll see. Do not be late."

"But Sir."

"You've already said that. Do you wish to make it three hours of detention, Miss Granger?"

She shook her head.

"Then get out," he said tersely.

He saw tears in her eyes, and he momentarily felt … bad. It was a foreign thing for him to feel, but he recognized it. He, of course, knew that the paper was of her own doing, however, Severus Snape would not believe that she'd just suddenly stopped doing what she wanted to do regardless of his attempts to get her to use her mind and think outside of a textbook.

He hated the … feeling emitting from his soul mark after she'd left the classroom.

Despondent.

Embarrassment.

She wouldn't do something stupid, would she? Merlin, he hoped not. Her surly professor would not just accept such a drastic change without comment. He'd said far worse to her over the past three plus school years. Granted, he'd never accused her of cheating before.

He realized what he would have thought and felt if someone had accused him of cheating.

That would have been worse, in his mind, than getting a Troll.

She arrived promptly as he knew she would.

She glanced around the room, seeing no cauldrons, or anything for that matter out of place.

"Follow me, Miss Granger," he said, wandlessly closing the door to his classroom while she did as he asked and followed him to his office.

"Why do you think Ageing Potion could be addicting?" he asked.

"I'm sorry?"

"I know that you heard me."

"Well, I don't think I said addicting, but something that could lead to abuse. The idea of being … unrecognizable would probably be tempting to some. To the point where I could see if someone wasn't of the right psychological makeup they could want to appear older to escape having to interact with their peers."

"Would you do it?"

"No," she said.

"Why not?"

"Because I like who I am. I mean, if I had a job where it was required such as law enforcement for an assignment I'd do it. I also think that it could be used in the commission of a crime and make it more difficult to identify perpetrators, and that makes it dangerous."

That piqued his interest and he wondered if she would get there in her thought process. He was … pleased that she had.

"Such as?"

"Well, if someone had taken an Ageing Potion and robbed a bank, stolen a car, or raped or killed someone the victim or witnesses would be unable to give an accurate description."

That right there was something he'd argued with himself about in aiding Geta, and Ambrosius, in their chosen careers. While Geta did not know that it was called Ageing Potion, he was confident that something existed that could alter his appearance to make it easier for him to get away without an accurate description.

Too many things could go wrong with potions, especially if they were mixed with anything. Particularly muggle things. He had no idea from day to day what his twin engaged in. So, he'd never offered the Ageing Potion, or Polyjuice Potion, to aide in his brother's jobs. He wouldn't want to be responsible for harm befalling him.

However, her statement reminded him of the time Geta had said something very similar. Wanting his twin to come up with something that would do that, aid him in getting away without risk of being identified.

Imagine being able to have a conversation with someone about these things who actually … understood them. There was a heady thought. The fact that she could hold such a conversation with him was not lost on him. And what was more, according to her, she wanted to converse with him.

He slid her paper across his desk toward her. He hadn't noticed right away she'd left it behind earlier.

"You left this earlier."

"Yes, well, you accused me of cheating."

"Forgive me if after three years of you acting as if you couldn't assemble a thought that hadn't been found in a textbook for being surprised to see you turn in a paper like this. And not three feet versus the eight inches I assigned."

"Yes, well, I ran out of time," she muttered, nibbling on that lower lip of hers. This was a tell he'd noticed in her that betrayed nerves over the years.

That mark on his chest was no longer irritated or despondent. In fact with that last sentence he sensed … amusement?

Did he amuse her? Or did the situation amuse her?

"So I'm not scrubbing cauldrons?"

"No, but if I told you that you were coming here to defend the unusualness of your paper you would have had hours to prepare."

Her eyes met his as she clutched the paper. "You're actually giving me an Exceeds Expectations?"

"You earned it, Miss Granger, so yes, that is the grade that you were given. If this is an indication of your papers this school year I admit I look forward to reading them and mayhaps discussing one or two of them in this type of environment if you don't mind a detention or two appearing to be assigned to you."

"Thank you, Sir. I've often wondered why all potions that alter one's physical appearance or mind aren't more restricted."

"Well, I think you find that wizards don't think of things like people robbing banks or stealing cars."

"There are wizards who are rapists and murderers, though."

"Indeed there are. I'm not sure someone who is truly foul, though, would bother with an Ageing Potion. However, it is a valid point you have brought up as to why these types of things should not be available at the corner apothecary without a permit. Of course, those requiring a permit would get their potions from the DMLE directly."

"Wizards don't typically have to worry about being raped either," she muttered.

He was tempted to make her repeat herself, but he'd heard her and he could tell by his mark she didn't like thinking about such things. Who would? So, he did not ask her to say it again and chose to say nothing. He was, in fact, not a witch so he could not truly offer her much more than an ear on the topic anyway.

Though, it left him wondering … had something happened to her? Fifteen seemed rather young to be so jaded about the differences in the genders. Then what he knew about fifteen year old witches and what they thought could fill a thimble with room left over.

She also obviously did not care to hear or think about the things he'd witnessed during the Dark Lord's first reign. Humiliation was the name of the game for so many so that they would appear stronger than someone else. The first time he'd witnessed sodomy he'd wondered how the desire to humiliate and punish someone in such a manner wasn't suspicious as to the one doing the punishing.

Someone had tried with him … once. The wizard in question was a eunuch to this day and Severus refused to reverse it. Not because he thought the wizard would attempt to touch him in such a fashion again. No, but reversing it would make him look weak. Forgiving. And that could not be. Not that he had reason to believe it could be reversed, but there was a possibility he supposed since it was done magically that he could be returned to his former state magically.

Sixteen years Severus had not bothered to look into it. In fact, he still got a bit of a chuckle out of it. Old Nikolay's wife had left him within a month after that night. That had given Severus quite a bit of satisfaction.

The Dark Lord did not look favourably upon followers who could not keep a victim from fighting back. Losing his wife, his home. Well, that was a reflection of something deeper than being weak physically.

So, Severus had managed to accomplish multiple things by being capable - and brave / stupid - enough to do so that day. He had been punished for his insubordination. A few more scars was worth it. He had no desire to be seen or humiliated in such a fashion. Even then before he'd turned traitor he had limits. He had gained the Dark Lord's respect, though, and that had been one more step toward earning the spot as his second.

At least she had said typically so she wasn't ruling out it happening to a man entirely.

"All right, Miss Granger. You have," he glanced at his watch. "Almost ninety minutes. You may work in here for that time if you'd like."

"You're not dismissing me?"

"I could, of course, but that would seem suspect to your friends so your presence here will be required until ten o'clock."

"Yes, Sir," she said, standing then and taking her school bag and finding a book in it she evidently wished to pass the time reading.

He sensed confusion now through his mark and couldn't help but chuckle at that.

He watched her more than once glance from the book she was trying to read to him and back again.

He was … surprised when he was in bed that night and he wasn't bombarded with questions in his mind. He felt nothing through his mark either.

It would seem suspect if he asked her about her essay the day she'd received it back and they'd had their conversation so he let it go.

Only he didn't hear from her again. Her schoolwork … improved, so evidently getting an Exceeds Expectations from him, and another followed by another, was sufficient proof that her anonymous tipster was onto something.

He could live with that.

He had helped her (and he did consider it helping her even if it did aid him and the other professors, too) and he felt rather … good about that.

"You fucking imbecile," he muttered when he saw the news of his younger brother's death.

He didn't have to make a special trip home from Hogwarts to catch this announcement. And it was perhaps a bigger story than the Nakatomi Plaza, if only because Ambrosius had purposely and publicly sought out John McClane. That was news on top of his attempted heist.

Severus had warned him! Told him!

Geta had to be cremated because of the state of his remains. Getting blown up in a helicopter wasn't going to give him much to bury with Ambrosius either.

Fuck. Fuckity fuck.

What in the fuck had he done to deserve this? He was thirty-five years old and everyone in his family was gone. Dead.

Now he truly was alone. He'd felt alone since Geta's death, but Ambrosius had helped soothe him. He at least had someone even if they didn't communicate as frequently as he and Geta had.

"I fucking told you not to do this!"

His chest started burning.

Oh fucking priceless!

Do not!

He had not heard one iota from her in months. Months for fuck's sake. He was not upset by that turn in events. With the Dark Lord's return he had to occlude like crazy and really had no time for amusement. So her not contacting him via their mark simply meant one less thing for him to attempt to hide.

You're upset.

It wouldn't take the brightest witch of her age to figure that out.

Fucking right I am.

What is wrong?

Everything.

Come on.

Why the fuck do you give a shit now? I haven't heard from you in ten months!

I'm sure you're aware it was a chaotic year. You're obviously familiar with Wizarding Britain and Hogwarts specifically. He Who Must Not Be Named returned.

I am aware.

Well, I was a little distracted.

Silence on his part.

You didn't communicate with me either.

He huffed. Really? She was throwing that at him? Witches!

Yes, well, I have better things to do than having essentially what amounts to faux conversations with a fifteen year old.

Fine. I'm sorry I asked. I won't again.

And she was gone. Not only was she gone, but he felt … nothing in his mark. How was that even possible? She was obviously upset. He should be feeling something from her as she had felt his distress moments ago.

"Oh Geta what do I do? If I go to claim his remains I will be tied to the both of you. I cannot imagine that would be wise at this point in time. If Albus was to find out about either of you. Well, he would certainly look a little more closely at his trust in me. Lying by omission is still lying."

As it was, apparently, the heroic efforts of John McClane with regard to the Nakatomi incident took the attention away from people deep diving into just who Hans Gruber had been. At least that was the only conclusion Severus and Ambrosius had been able to come to as to why authorities never came to their Cokeworth home, or found either brother.

"The Dark Lord has returned, which I'm sure you're up there laughing at me about. Yes, yes, Albus Dumbledore was right. The Dark Lord managed to do the impossible. I can't be traipsing off to America to collect his remains."

He sighed. He couldn't just leave Ambrosius there, unclaimed either, though. He was his brother. He was responsible for bringing him home.

An idea came to him.

Are you a wizard or are you not, Severus Snape? Did your twin leave you identification under aliases or did he not? Do you know how to make an unauthorized portkey or do you not?

He glanced at his watch, realizing it was still business hours in New York City. The last fucking thing he wanted to do was talk to muggle authorities, but he'd do it so that he could bring his brother home. He had to. He glanced at the urn that contained Geta's remains, shaking his head at the idea of a second one taking up residence there.

Do you need someone to talk to?

I am fine.

You're … hurting.

I am. I will be fine. I have no time to be anything but.

What happened?

I just had it reaffirmed that I am allowed nothing. That everything I care about, everyone I love is taken from me.

Oh.

He realized too late how that sounded. She'd think he was talking about a woman.

It was not a witch. At least this time it wasn't.

He realized what that would sound like and rolled his eyes. Why he cared what she thought he wasn't sure. And yet here he was, about to further clarify.

It was my younger brother.

Oh.

And he could hear the … relief in her tone. He smirked a bit at that. Interesting. Did she know what their marks were and meant after all?

I'm thirty-five years old and my entire family is gone now.

I'm very sorry. That's not a reasonable response, but I don't know what else to say.

Thank you.

I'm … sorry that I didn't contact you again after September.

You don't owe me an apology.

He wouldn't deny it … stung a bit that she did not, but that was the polite part of him. He'd aided her, she should have at least said thank you. However, her not contacting him gave him one less thing to worry about hiding from both Albus and the Dark Lord. He had enough to worry about let alone either of them finding out he had a soulmate!

I do. Obviously you bringing it up today means you expected that I would. It was terribly rude of me not to. You helped me. And it worked! My not thanking you is not how I was raised.

He smirked again at that. Of course it worked. He'd had no idea that the witch had any desire to talk to him about various subjects prior to these conversations they shared. No one ever wanted to do that so he just hadn't known what to look for.

I am glad that I could be of assistance.

I.

Yes? The question came when she was silent for a moment.

You aren't the first one to have mentioned to me about going beyond textbooks. I just never.

Yes?

Books have been enough until now. Until Hogwarts.

I am familiar with this phenomenon. However, in magic there are few absolutes. Not hard and fast ones as there is with, say, Biology and Mathematics.

Well, I'm adjusting to that fact.

And it is working?

Yes, thank you. I think so at least in all of my classes. What happened with your brother?

He was a dunderhead as was my twin not even six years ago.

A twin?

Yes.

I can't even imagine.

I try not to. Our younger brother was trying to … pay someone back for my twin's death. Let's just say, it didn't work out the way he'd hoped despite my warnings against him doing it, mind you.

You're not going to try to do that are you?

No, I am not an imbecile.

But they're your brothers.

This may sound callous, and one day mayhaps I will go into actual details, but they made their beds. They made the choices they made. Admittedly, I have not made good ones either. Mine just haven't, to this point anyway, cost me my life. Just everything around me turning to shit. So I'm not sure how lucky it is my mistakes haven't resulted in death. However, they were still my brothers and I'm not pleased about losing them.

How much younger?

Not quite eight years.

Oh, that's quite an age gap.

It was. I was away at school before he was out of diapers.

And your twin?

Identical in every way except our matching marks. And he was not magical.

Oh, that's very … interesting.

He hadn't found it interesting until he got older. It was interesting. It would be fascinating to see if there were any … biological differences between him and Geta. What made him magical and Geta not? It was one of the reasons he never told anyone about Geta, though, he didn't want to be studied.

The one thing I loved most about him? There were several things, mind you. He never held it against me.

That is admirable.

It was. How is your summer?

Well, I haven't found out my brother died.

You don't have a brother.

Silence.

You're right, I don't. It's been okay. Worried about everything happening.

You are not alone there, and I'm glad that it has been okay. I do have to go. I have some … details to work out pertaining to my brother. Are we all right?

We are.

That is a relief, and my lashing out at you earlier was uncalled for.

Apology accepted.

Insolent Witch. I didn't say that!

But you meant that.

Good night.

With the aid of a fake ID, two unauthorized portkeys, and an excuse to the Dark Lord that he would be in South America collecting potion ingredients for a week he was in possession of Ambrosius' remains. He had indeed gone to South America and used the unauthorized portkeys to leave and return from there.

That done and checking in with his masters so both knew he had returned and not perished in the Amazon wilderness he still had a bit of time before he had to return to Hogwarts to get ready for the new school year.

He had no idea how this year would go. He couldn't see how it would be at all good. For anyone. He supposed at least the Triwizard Tournament wasn't something he had to contend with this year. And seeing his soulmate dancing, happy, and looking rather lovely with another wizard. At least it hadn't been Potter or Weasley who'd escorted her the night of the Yule Ball.

He made his way to the corner store a few blocks from his house that had a pay phone outside versus inside the store where anyone could overhear a conversation. Disadvantage of the ones outside as this one was, traffic noise but this corner was quiet enough. He set his hand against the phone, charming it to believe he deposited the required amount of coins to phone London.

He hoped as she answered the phone that this wasn't the absolutely most stupid move he could ever make. Certainly it couldn't be worse than telling the Dark Lord of the prophecy.

It was hard to level set when his bar was so fucking high!

‘Hello.'

"Miss Granger?"

‘Yes.'

"It's Professor Snape. I was hoping that you might have a moment?"

‘Oh sure. I mean, yes, of course, Professor.'

"Your parents are at work?"

‘Yes.'

"I will be in your backyard in about five minutes."

‘Um okay,' she said, sounding confused. Undoubtedly so.

He disconnected then. His hand remained on the receiver for a minute or two before he went to the alley behind the store and apparated to her yard. She was waiting for him.

"Did you want to come in?"

"No," he said simply.

"Okay."

"I debated about doing this for a few weeks now, but my position could be in serious jeopardy so I have to take the chance that this does not become the stupidest thing I've ever done, which is saying a lot that I think it could be. I have no intention of joining my brothers anytime soon."

She looked, appropriately, thoroughly confused. He could see her trying to puzzle out the meaning behind his words and this visit.

"Is this supposed to make sense, Sir?"

He was dressed as a muggle in a T-shirt and jeans. It was summer so he wore no flannel or jacket over it.

"Forgive me for any perceived forwardness. I assure you that is not my intent, but I do not know how else to accomplish this quickly. The longer I spend here there's more of a chance someone, even your parents, will see. I cannot have that."

He lifted his shirt up then, enough so that she would see the black heart-shaped mark on his chest. A mark she had an identical one of in the same spot if what Poppy said was true. Before he could even acknowledge what she was doing she was mere inches from him tracing the heart with her fingertip.

"Miss Granger," he said cautiously. He hadn't pulled away, though, he couldn't help but notice. It also had gone from black to red he saw.

"Right, sorry. I just," she dropped her hand to her side and then met his eyes.

Her head tilted a bit as she regarded him, and no doubt the mark turning black again. It had never done that before. Her touch, he supposed. He knew his eyes weren't as … cold-seeming as they usually were at this particular moment. It was difficult to remain so when this witch, his soulmate, had just willingly touched him. Curiosity or not in play, she had. Only his brothers had willingly done so until now.

"It's you," she said simply.

"It is. This year is not going to be pretty or fun, Miss Granger. I do not believe you need me to point that out to you. You are aware of my reported and oft debated about position with the Order? I know that you're not yet old enough to officially participate, but no doubt you've done your research on … things."

"Yes."

"I cannot risk you entering my mind, my thoughts, at an inopportune time. Albus would lose his spy. If the Dark Lord realizes that I have a soulmate he will know that I am not on his side."

"I'm sorry?"

So she didn't know. Interesting. He'd assumed she would figure it out when he mentioned they had the same mark. Then the year had been chaotic for her too more than likely.

"Now that you know what to look for, research it to your heart's content, Miss Granger. Soulmates. Much like a patronus, if I were truly foul in nature, in my soul, I would not have an active mark. I presume it would have remained as it was originally and you would have been … mated with someone else. I admit I don't know how it works, particularly when there is such a … difference in ages as there exists between us. That's what we are. It is how we have been able to communicate for years now, on and off. I presume you were born in September 1979, I presume also that you have never known the heart on your chest to be anything but black since I was already alive when you were born. Mine was just a barely noticeable heart-shaped freckle until what has to be your birthdate. I was with my twin on that day, in fact. I suspect I was feeling your, and perhaps your mother's, distress during the birthing process. Hours it burned and throbbed. It would let up for moments at a time, but it was fairly constant. Until then it was just an oddly shaped freckle, the only difference between my twin and me. I also presume when I die yours will take on the barely noticeable heart-shaped freckle colourization mine was for nearly twenty years. Though that bit I do not know, but my presumption is based on what mine looked like prior to your birth. I could be wrong in that. I admit I have had little time to look into it overmuch since I found out for certain what it was."

"That's daft, Professor. I don't know what game you're trying to play, but I really don't appreciate it."

"Do I look to be in a mood of humour, Miss Granger? Do you think I have nothing better to do with my day then come here and speak to you? I assure you that I do. And yet you haven't told me to get out either. I told you how to work on your Ageing Potion essay after you suggested you'd like to talk with me. I figured out it was you, you admitted to seeing me at the restaurant. With my brother by the way."

She frowned. She was thinking back to that day, he could tell from the look on her face. "You introduced him as Simon."

"I did, you are correct. I would prefer if you think about that day in the presence of anyone that you think of him as Professor Snape's friend Simon. No one is aware I had brothers, and given their chosen occupations I am unsure if either master would trust me if they found out that I hadn't ever told them about either sibling. Add in what they did for a living."

"Right," she said, nibbling on that lower lip. She was clearly taking all of this in. It was a lot to process. He'd had time to think about it, come to terms with it. She'd had a few minutes.

"You initiating the mental conversations must cease. I do enjoy our conversations, so that is not the reason. Until you I only had Geta to debate about things and being non-magical our topics were somewhat limited. Draco's father is an acceptable conversationalist, but I have to tread carefully with him. I have never had someone to converse with for solely that purpose. Conversation. I have never had someone sense my moods. It might be off putting, but it is not entirely unwelcome. I know, too, you through our marks have provided me … solace, calm several times over the years even if I wasn't aware until rather recently what was happening. Whether you remember those times or not, know that you eased my mind. On many occasions over the years. However, I cannot have anything getting past my barriers, I will not risk the Dark Lord seeing you or knowing that you exist. So, while I am concerned for my own well being, my ability to do my job. It is primarily you I am thinking of. They would think you could be used against me."

He closed his eyes, shaking his head at the thought. He would not be responsible for another witch dying because of him. He didn't want to think about what the Dark Lord or a Death Eater would do to her. Albus, though, too, could use her just as keenly to make him heel even more if he found out he had a witch. He wasn't sure which idea appealed less to him. He'd know how to defend her against the Dark Lord. He would not know what to do against Albus.

"Oh," she said, reaching for her chest where her mark would be. "That's quite intense. Whatever you're thinking about. I'm sorry I'm upsetting you in any way, Sir."

"You are not upsetting me, Miss Granger. My thoughts …. Well, anyway, that's not important today. I cannot be seen showing you favouritism, especially not now. However, if you feel as if you need a conversation, turn in an essay as you had written prior to this past school year and I will give you detention again. I will try to initiate our … personal … conversations when it is safe to do so. I make no assurances, and I make no promises they will be lengthy or about anything regarding the status of things currently. I can't risk that, giving you information or hearing things that I shouldn't. I have already told you too much. If Albus found out, he would likely obliviate you."

"Fair," she said with a nod. "Not that the headmaster would obliviate me, but everything else."

"I am trusting you, Miss Granger."

"Of course." She tilted her head a bit. "Does Madam Pomfrey know?"

"Yes, why?" he asked. Why would she think of that?

"The last time she saw it. My mark I mean. After I'd been pulled from the lake during the tournament. I didn't think anything of it at the time, but her eyes widened as if she was surprised about it or something. She's treated me several times before then, as you're aware because you assisted her with potions for a couple of the incidents. So she shouldn't have been. Surprised by it, I mean. And then she asked me some questions about it that had nothing to do with why I was in the Infirmary. I mean, it was a birthmark and it obviously had nothing to do with my being all right or not from being in the lake as long as I was."

"Did she?" Of course she would have, it was after Severus had talked to her about the mark already. So she would have known. She would have recognized Hermione's as being the same as his.

"Yes."

"Well, she is a nosey busy body so best not to tell her you know either. No one, Miss Granger. Not Messrs Potter and Weasley either. It's important. I hope you see that. I am trusting you because both our lives will be in danger if anyone finds out. Do you understand that? Do you understand what a Death Eater who discovers our … connection might do to you thinking that it would harm me?"

He hadn't had something that could be construed as a weakness in nearly fifteen years. He wasn't sure what he'd do now if someone found out he had a soulmate and took her. Held her as bait. He didn't really know her. Their conversations (mental or in his office) had never gotten overly personal. He didn't love her. Someone or something, though, marked them for one another. That had to mean something. Other than Geta he'd never had anything in his life that he'd thought of as his.

Yes, if someone took her he would likely do something foolish in an attempt to save her because he wouldn't want to see her hurt.

And that thought scared him. It had been far better to think he had absolutely nothing to lose.

"I do."

He settled his index finger under her chin. Odd to think she hadn't moved away from him after assuring herself that his mark was what it seemed to be.

"I debated about telling you because as I said at the beginning of this conversation things are not going to be good. Things will be said and implied about me, I am sure. Foul, hurtful things. I do not care. I have developed rather thick skin by now, I know my place and role in all of this. I have heard it all, and worse than your friends will say, for years now. I have accepted long ago most in the Order hate me. You, though, you will now know that the person these things are being said and inferred about is who whoever decides such things chose as your soulmate. I do not relish in you knowing it's me. I honestly wasn't sure the Dark Lord would actually accomplish coming back. And to top it off. You must not tell or reveal to anyone anything about my role."

"But, Sir."

"You cannot, Miss Granger. We need the Order members to doubt me. If everyone believed in me wholeheartedly, the Dark Lord would wonder why."

She was biting on that lower lip rather severely now. She didn't like that idea and that pleased him in a way he hadn't realized was possible.

"If you feel you must try to defend me just do not do it too staunchly. It will not do if Potter or Weasley start to wonder if you're right in the head or if I cast the Imperius on you or something. And God forbid Longbottom stopped acting as if I'm what he fears most."

"Oh," she said softly.

Her lips twitched slightly at that. Oh, yes, he'd been more than a bit irate at the time, but now he could find the amusement in Longbottom's boggart. Just as he found immense amusement at the memory of this witch having turned herself into a cat. He had to take his humour where he could find it, especially these days. Maybe that was wrong, he wasn't sure. He thought he was entitled to take his joy where it came from.

"I will not risk coming to you like this again. I did so today starting from a store near my home. I've been on an errand regarding my younger brother so figured my movements would be less likely to be scrutinized by either master."

"I never thanked you for your help with that assignment."

"No thanks necessary, trust me."

She scowled.

"What I said was factual, Miss Granger. Yes, we are teachers but none of us endeavour to be nothing but that twenty-four hours a day. Your turning in extra inches with every assignment was time consuming. So your learning not to do that behooves me. And especially now as I will, I'm sure, be getting little rest from now until this ends. Whenever that is. Your papers have drastically improved."

"Well, I am sorry. I didn't think…"

"It's nothing to be sorry about. I understand. You wanted to prove you belong. I get it. I truly do. I assure you that you do belong. You are a capable, intelligent witch, Miss Granger. That is the last time I can say that to you, but know that I believe it is true as surely as Minerva and the others do."

Her eyes brightened at that and he thought for a moment that he rather liked the way they looked. He liked that he was responsible for putting that look there. He'd never been the reason behind someone's happiness.

"And if you are desperate. Truly desperate. As in life or death you have permission to utilize our connection. Just know that I may not respond so provide me with concise information I would need to assist. And know that it may not be me that assists. I may send someone else, but I will trust if you are contacting me in that way that your life is truly on the line."

"Oh, I wouldn't do that…"

"I hope that it's unnecessary, but I will not have you die because you thought you couldn't reach out even under life threatening circumstances."

She surprised him then, reaching up on her tiptoes, dislodging his finger from its place at her chin and bussing him on the corner of his mouth with hers.

"Be well, Professor. If there's anything I can do, ever, you know where to find me."

He scoffed but smirked slightly. "I will keep the offer in mind. Just stay alive, keep your head down, your mind clear of any of our conversations, and do try to encourage Potter away from running head first into trouble."

"I will do my best."

Famous last words.

Christmas Eve 1995

I hope all is well and everyone is safe by you on this Christmas Eve.

Oh, thank you we are, and Happy Christmas Eve to you too, Sir.

I think for our purposes, these conversations, Severus will do. So long as you won't forget yourself.

Really? Thank you, Severus. And Hermione, please. Are you having a Happy Christmas Eve?

No, but that is not unusual.

Why not? Aside from the obvious, I mean you said that's not unusual. He has not been here for several Christmases. So obviously it's not just his return.

It is the anniversary of my twin's death.

Oh, you must think I'm incredibly insensitive. I apologize for asking.

You posed a question based on my wishing you well. While Albus likes to remind me I'm quite good at being a curmudgeon, I do know what this holiday means to most. You had no way of knowing what this day represented to me. No apology is necessary.

What happened?

It is a long story, but needless to say he was in the wrong place at the wrong time, doing things he should not have been doing. In part he was doing those things to aid me in trying to … get my Mark removed.

That's possible?

I do not know as I didn't get the opportunity to find out.

Oh. Right. Obviously. How silly of me to ask that. And now he's back so it's too late.

Quite.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, eyeing the mantel where now urns containing the ashes of both of his brothers were housed.

I will admit when the idea of getting the Mark removed and leaving first came to me ten years ago, it was most appealing. It still is, I can't deny that. Evidently I do have some survival instincts somewhere in me despite evidence to the contrary. And they were telling me to get out. However, I'm honestly not sure I would have gone through with it even if I could have.

Why?

I made a commitment to see this to the end. I'm not sure the headmaster could find another spy. Certainly not one as deeply in from the beginning as I have been. I may have left when I was supposed to and have come back when I heard of his return. I don't know.

I suppose that would be difficult.

Mm.

Why are you doing it?

He sighed. Dare he explain this? She did deserve to know the truth, though, didn't she? And, truthfully, he'd never told anyone. Not the whole truth. Geta had likely put the pieces together.

A friend of mine and her husband died. We hadn't been truly friends for a while, since our days at Hogwarts. I was the one who betrayed her to the Dark Lord, before I turned spy. Inadvertently. Intentional or not, I brought his focus to them. I know that I did not kill her, but I am doing what I can to make up for that betrayal of my friend.

You were friends with Harry's parents?

No. James Potter was rather the opposite to me. Lily and I met prior to our first year at Hogwarts. She lived near me. Different side of town and socioeconomic statuses, but near nonetheless. Our friendship was rather tragic I suppose one could say. I thought I was in love with her, she did not feel the same way. She withdrew and I was drawn to things I should not have been. She voiced her concerns, but I saw her as meddling or not understanding. She was drawn to bullies. I'll never understand what she saw in them or why because they were Gryffindors their bullying behaviour was allowed.

He shrugged, not that she could see the gesture. It was an odd way to communicate. Intimate and yet … not at the same time.

I'd come to the conclusion quite some time ago that while I loved her I was not in love with her. I mistook attention, any positive response, as affection. I have no doubt she felt affection for me when we were ten and eleven, but not the type of affection I assumed it was. As I've grown to be an adult I realize there are different types of affection and different types of responses to people one is attracted to. When Poppy told me what my mark was at the beginning of last year I realized it was probably quite impossible for me to have been in love with Lily let alone anyone else.

So I can't…?

He shrugged again.

I presume you've done some research since I told you this summer, but while each of us is alive I do not believe so. Not to say you couldn't pursue Krum…

I'm not interested in Viktor like that.

I suspect my experience with those feelings were prior to your birth, so I was able to feel them. I imagine you would be able to feel that when I'm gone.

Don't talk like that!

I deal in facts.

Why are you telling me this?

I don't know. My emotions are raw I suppose on the anniversary of someone I did truly love and who loved me in return, faults and all, dying. And as I told you in your yard this summer, things are going to come out and be said. I do not want you thinking that your soulmate is someone who was infatuated with another man's wife fourteen years after her death. She was not my witch. I know this, have known it for some time. That does not mean my commitment to defeating the Dark Lord is any less than it was when I turned traitor once I realized who the prophecy was about.

Oh.

I think, too, witches put much more stock in such things. I personally am not sure I would care if our situations were reversed what you had done prior to my existence or knowing about me.

Are there examples of older witches being mated with younger wizards?

As soulmates? None that I'm aware of. That seems counterintuitive to the race. Obviously the idea of soulmates is to lead to a future with that person and with that future would be magical children.

So does that mean that we are having magical children, Sir?

He scoffed, though he sensed some cheek in her question's tone.

Severus, and I should think not.

Silence.

Hermione.

Nothing, but the feeling in his mark suggested he had somehow answered incorrectly. He sighed heavily.

June 1996

Severus paced the Infirmary. A caged tiger was likely calmer than he was at this moment. Why had he allowed himself to care ? He should have known better. He could obviously have nothing good in his life. No one on his side.

Was it truly his lot in life to have nothing? No one? To be completely alone? Surely if she was dead it was a sign that despite thinking he wasn't as foul as he thought given he could cast a patronus and had a soul mark his life truly was shit.

He was truly shit.

"Severus, relax."

"Easy for you to say, Poppy. For nearly seventeen years I have felt … something. Here," he said, gesturing to the spot only Poppy now since Geta was dead knew about. "I feel nothing. She's dead."

"You do not know that."

"I suppose it would be poetic justice. I took his mother from him. So he gets to take something from me."

Make a friend this witch had suggested to him. He should have known better. Everything around him fucking died! Everyone was taken from him. He was clearly meant to have no one!

"Oh, Severus, you did no such thing. You didn't cast the curse. You didn't kill Lily Potter!"

He knew this was true. He'd had this same argument with himself (and with Geta) several times over the past fifteen years. It didn't ease the feelings of guilt he carried with him.

"Regardless, she should not die before I do."

He hadn't heard from her since Christmas Eve. At all. She wouldn't even look at him in class or at meals. Prior to then they'd met a couple of times in the fall under the guise of detention to discuss a potion they'd brewed in class or one she'd read about. Because of course she read potions journals. He'd even given her a few old copies of various issues he thought she might find thought provoking. The meetings were brief and spread apart as to avoid suspicion, but he enjoyed them. Now that she was realizing there was more to learning than textbooks she was rather curious and inquisitive. He enjoyed it. Since Christmas Eve. Nothing. Zilch. He'd been too busy to fret about that overmuch. He still wasn't certain what he'd said that was upsetting.

"I didn't realize you'd gotten that friendly with her to care."

"We're not friendly. We've had a few conversations. She is aware I am the one with the mark on the other end of the connection. This damnable silence in my chest, in that mark, is unsettling, Poppy. I'm not sure I remember what not feeling it is like any longer."

Poppy looked at him with understanding and if Severus wasn't mistaken, envy, in her eyes. He supposed she had been asking herself the past nearly two years why he fucking deserved a soulmate. (Then knowing about the soul mark was probably why she had not been unkind to him as others were doing since the Dark Lord's return. And bless her heart, she wasn't revealing his secrets to anyone either. She had to realize as she'd told Hermione in her yard that they needed Order members to doubt him.)

Fucking Potter.

Albus might just have to find another spy and another Boy Who Lived if she died tonight because of his carelessness. And for Black. Of all the people to go off half-cocked and with a ridiculous plan about. She was worth ten Blacks!

She'd been brought in. Unconscious but alive. He imagined the unconscious part was what led to the … silence. He'd thought for certain she was dead. Was that relief? Hope? He wasn't sure what he felt when he saw her because it was completely foreign to him. He wasn't used to having anything go his way.

"I would like some privacy, Poppy. Will you ensure no one disturbs us?"

"Severus…"

He rolled his eyes. Maybe he was wrong about her knowing what having a soulmark meant in the grand scheme of things when it came to him truly being a foul human being.

"Merlin, Witch, first you said you weren't aware we became friendly and now you seem to think I'm going to do something illicit or untoward with a student right here in your infirmary. If that was my plan I'd merely disarm and disable you and do it without permission or forewarning. Give me some credit! I merely want to use legilimens and see if I can enter her mind. I would like to see if I can ascertain what was cast. The sooner I can figure out what was done to her the better chance I have of finding a cure and reversing its effects. If Potter and Weasley come barging in, that may cause her to lose what connection and therefore concentration I am able to establish with her."

She nodded then, seeming to believe him. That was a relief. The last thing he needed was this woman saying he'd done something improper with a student. "I will ensure that you are not disturbed."

"Your assistance is appreciated."

With a flick of his wrist the curtain was drawn completely around her bed. He regarded her. Unconscious, lying still on the infirmary bed. Bloodied, bruised. She looked so … helpless. Something he had never had occasion to associate with her before this moment. She was no helpless victim. When he found out who did this to her he would end them. She did not deserve this.

"All right, Hermione," he murmured.

He had never said her name aloud until now. He'd never allowed himself to. He drew a chair up close to the side of her bed and sat for a moment. He needed to clear his mind before entering hers. He would do her no good thinking about revenge or about anything but getting answers from her. Finally, calm enough he felt he could do this he stood, leaning over her a bit. He settled his hand over her forehead. She felt warm, not unexpected considering what her body was fighting.

"This is not going to be pleasant, fun, or subtle and I apologize for that. I think you know I would never deliberately cause you harm or discomfort. In fact, to offset any discomfort you will experience, I will extend the offer to do this some other time when you're not unconscious so that you can experience the difference between someone … forcing them self into your mind and you letting someone in."

The courteous thing to do when performing legilimens was via direct eye contact with permission. He could not obtain the permission. He could only make eye contact one way today. She could hate him later if it found him the answers he sought, remembering his curiosity as to whether something had happened to her that she spoke of rape when they'd discussed the Ageing Potion. He'd apologize later if need be. This was not the same thing either. He was trying to save her, not harm her. Surely she would understand that. 

He hoped she would anyway.

He used his thumbs to open her eyelids, taking a deep breath as her eyes were unresponsive to him.

"Legilimens," he murmured, pushing into her mind. She struggled for a moment against the intrusion, too. She knew he shouldn't be there. That was excellent.

There's a good witch. Do not ever just roll over and die. Fight, even as you are now. I am trying to help you, though. Let me in, Hermione.

Can you hear me?

No response. She wasn't letting him any further in either. That was good, and he wondered how she was shielding herself so strongly. Perhaps she was a natural, they existed he knew. He and Tom were among them.

Hermione, if you can hear me, now is not the time to ignore me. The faster I find out what curse you were hit with and by who if possible, the better chance I have of reversing any permanent effects.

And killing them. He left that part off of his thoughts, though.

He felt her then. Groggy and not wanting to respond but she did. He saw the scene playout, saw the curse Anton cast in her direction. It wasn't completely clear. As if there was a curtain in the way, one he could see through but not completely. It was clear enough he got the information he needed.

You are a very lucky witch. I felt our mark go quiet, completely deafeningly quiet for the first time since you were born and I thought you were dead, Hermione. If you hadn't cast that silencing spell…

Nothing.

Are you never going to speak to me again?

What was the point in telling me about the soul mark? That we are soulmates?

What do you mean the point? I thought that was fairly obvious, Hermione. I told you in your yard that day that I couldn't risk…

And if I weren't a muggleborn witch?

What are you asking me?

He heard a sigh of exasperation and couldn't help but chuckle. Even communicating this way he could fully hear her tone and picture her sounding like that when talking with her friends.

It bothers you that your soulmate is a muggleborn witch.

Of course not.

Silence. He was working very hard not to go … poking around. It would be so easy. She was pretty defenseless at the moment, but that would be akin to rape. He was here for diagnostic purposes. Nothing else.

Did you get the information you needed?

I did. Thank you.

Then go. Leave my mind.

Hermione.

Leave, Severus. I'm sure you have something better to be doing not here with me.

Would you tell me what I did?

Nothing.

I find that difficult to believe. You seemed to enjoy our conversations the same as I did. I have … missed them.

She scoffed.

Don't do that. You know that is not easy for me to admit. If I upset you somehow.

It's fine, Professor. Just go do whatever you need to do.

Don't do that either. I know from observation that any witch who says ‘it's fine' usually means the opposite. I may not have friends or a wife, and despite the Dark Lord not being active for nearly fourteen years my covert listening skills remained extraordinary.

She huffed again.

Soulmates are rather rare from what I've researched. Those with marks as ours even more so.

Yes.

So, why would you with one of the most brilliant minds I've encountered not want to look into that?

What?

A memory was pushed to him.

//So does that mean that we are having magical children, Sir?

Severus, and I should think not.//

Oh.

That bothered her?

He frowned. He'd assumed she was joking and if not would be overjoyed at the answer.

I don't plan on being alive overlong, Hermione. You are, last I checked, not eighteen.

Seventeen is the age of majority in the wizarding world.

Irrelevant. I repeat. I do not plan on being alive overlong. And I would be severely disappointed if you had intentions of being with child as soon as you turn seventeen.

So it's not me? Not because I'm a muggleborn.

He scoffed.

No. It is me, Hermione. Even if you were eighteen, this war is still ongoing. I would not do that. I would not leave a child illegitimate on top of the stigma of being the child of a Death Eater.

Why don't you want to live? You have a soulmate. Why wouldn't you want to…

Oh, Hermione, my life had a rather short expiration date from the beginning. Poor family from Cokeworth. I'm fairly certain our younger brother was a result of my mum not being able to afford her contraceptives. I do not know that for certain, but eight years between us, and I had the impression two was more than they'd signed up for. I got to Hogwarts and my experience here as a student was not … pleasing. Mr. Potter's father and godfather along with Lupin and Pettigrew tormented me most of my seven years. Not to say I was entirely blameless, but they were bullies. My friendship with Lily ended because in a moment of humiliation, embarrassment, and anger I called her a mudblood. She never forgave me.

Oh, Severus.

At the time, at the age of fifteen, I didn't understand it. I said I was sorry. Why wasn't that enough? Now, I know the insult combined with everything leading up to it: hanging around with Sirius' brother and others who became Death Eaters, my interest in the dark arts. Things moved so fast and I never truly understood how she could care for James let alone marry him. I still don't, truth be told. I had years before his return to think over things. Conversations with Geta.

Geta?

My twin.

Oh. Geta and Severus. Which was older?

He chuckled.

I was by thirteen minutes.

Did you hold that over him?

Only every time we quarreled.

She gave a laugh at that. He … liked hearing her laughter in his head like this.

I'm sorry he's gone. He and Ambrosius.

With the name came the image of that old English sheepdog again.

Yes, well, as I've said, they made their beds. They chose to be thieves. Criminals. You are no longer mad at me then? If I survive the war's end we can discuss any next steps if you are of the mind to do so.

So romantic, Severus.

Yes, well. Now that you're more coherent, show me again what happened at the Department of Mysteries and then I shall get to work on healing you. I will instruct Poppy to give you a sedative to keep you under. I'm … afraid that our conversation will lead to your coming to ahead of when you should given the state of your wound. You need to rest and remain as still as you can.

Okay.

She showed him again the events that led to the curse Anton cast. It was much clearer this time. He was able to see it almost as if he'd been standing there, too. Frantic as it was, scared as she was. He still got the information he needed.

It won't be instantaneous, but I will get you back to new again.

Thank you.

Rest, Hermione. One last thing?

Yes.

Don't do that again. Do you hear me, Witch? You have not had nearly seventeen years to get used to our marks reacting. I have. I thought you'd died, Hermione. If nothing else comes of these marks, they have already given me something I never thought to have outside of my siblings. A friend.

You're my friend, too.

He nodded before withdrawing from her mind. He instructed Poppy to give her a sedative before heading to his lab to get to work.

If he had the chance to do so, Anton would be dead.

"What do you mean, no?" Poppy asked him. She was truly shocked by his answer it seemed. Well, she wasn't the only one he imagined. No doubt people thought he'd just go on about his life the same as it always was.

No. He was not going to do that. He would not return to the scene of the crime as it were.

This wasn't her first home visit to look after him. She'd agreed to visit him at home when he'd wanted out of St. Mungo's and they wouldn't release him without medical care. She'd come every day at first, but was now down to once a week. Evidently he had an excellent constitution which aided him in healing even Nagini's damage swiftly.

Scarring would be there and visible, but he was alive.

"I know you know the definition of the word," he said.

"Yes, but what will you do?"

Ah, proof she thought like others did probably that he needed Hogwarts and had nothing else to do other than be stuck there for the rest of his days. No! He would not do that. Geta and Ambrosius would not die in vain. He would not snub his nose on this chance on life he had been given.

"Not be a professor any longer, that's for certain. I never truly wanted to be one to begin with nor was I particularly good at it. You can't truly be that shocked, Poppy."

"But all the charges were…"

"It has nothing to do with the charges. It has to do with my entire life being tied up with Hogwarts and Voldemort and Potters and Britain. I'm ready to be my own man."

"Severus, Minerva wants you back."

"Well and good. Minerva knows the meaning of the word no as well and will not get what she wants in this instance. Sending you in her steed won't convince me either. I do not want to go back. My answer is no. Tell the headmistress she will need to find a new potions professor and stooge. The war hero and successful spy will not be gracing the halls of the castle."

"What of…"

"None of your business," he hissed, cutting her off.

He knew what she was going to say. Who she was going to ask about. Hermione. It was none of her damned business.

"Severus. She sat with you for weeks."

"Yes, I was fully aware of her presence at my sickbed. Well, for most of it anyway. I am not a dunderhead. I do not wish to be a burden or a chore. She needs to figure some things out, too. She deserves better than being shackled with someone because some unknown force marked her for me."

"But Severus, you obviously care for one another. I know nothing happened between you while she was a student. She's not a student any longer! She's your soulmate."

"It's not enough. She's known nothing but war. While I can admit that I abhour the idea of her with Weasley, or any other wizard, she needs to do that. I will not ruin her!"

The healer's lips thinned and she got an unhappy look in her eye that he recognized. She was not pleased with this path he was taking. She thought he was a fool. No doubt he was and he would regret this decision later when he read about her engagement in the paper.

It could be him. He suspected that she would be willing.

He would not do that!

He'd just gotten out of over two decades of endenturement, he was not going to jump right into a relationship with someone who in truth didn't know him any better than he knew her. Yes, he considered her a friend. He'd been honest with her about things he'd never told anyone else. However, they'd never had an actual conversation, face to face. Her sitting by his bed, reading and talking about various current events for weeks did not constitute actual conversations. At least not to his mind.

"I'll know when - if - she's ready."

"If you don't wait too long," the healer said, clearly not approving of this path.

"Enough!" It was a possibility, of course. Not one he cared to think about because it would be his own fault. He couldn't expect her to wait forever. She was a young, attractive, intelligent witch who was a war hero. She would be sought after and pursued.

The healer took her leave eventually when she was done running diagnostics and ensuring he was recovering as expected. She glanced back at him from his fireplace before leaving with a shake of her head after she gathered her things together.

"You deserve happiness, Severus."

He snorted, but said nothing. She was right, he did. Not at another's expense, though.

He walked to the fireplace then, trailing the tip of his finger along the urn that held Geta's remains.

"She just doesn't understand," he murmured. "You would. Am I being a fool?"

He shrugged.

No one was there to answer, of course.

There was a chance he was acting a fool. There was a part of him, deep inside of him, that told him to take what was his. She'd been marked for him. That was obviously intentional and clearly not a mistake. She was his. She was meant to be his.

He would not do that, though. He couldn't. She was eighteen. Yes, people married and started families right out of Hogwarts all of the time. Those people were not Hermione Granger and their partner, their soulmate, was not someone nineteen years older who happened to be a former Death Eater and persona non grata to many even today. No charges, exonerated or not, he knew people would still be suspicious of him. She deserved to make her mark in this world without the stigma of not just being his witch but his soulmate.

Are you okay?

He sighed softly. The familiarity of her in his mind was welcome. The year or so he'd had to occlude so severely as to keep her out he'd felt … incomplete. For years she'd been there, subtle but there.

He'd told her he was doing it in advance. He wasn't that much of a prick as to just sever their connection without telling her. She understood. Too much was at stake on both their parts to risk anything.

She, foolishly, hadn't even contacted him when she'd been captured despite his telling her she could if her life depended on it. She'd told him later that she'd been too focused on keeping Bellatrix from finding out anything to think about contacting him. Understandable, but he still hadn't been pleased.

Poppy is displeased that I'm not returning to my former position. Any of them.

I imagine she thinks Hogwarts without you will be odd.

I admit life away from Hogwarts will be precisely that.

He had gone to Germany (unbeknownst to anyone) and raided Geta's vault, giving him enough muggle and wizarding money to travel a bit and get started wherever he landed. He wasn't sure where that would be, just that it wasn't going to be here.

Are you a little excited?

I admit, I am. I never thought there would be an after the war for me.

Any idea where you'll go?

No. We both need time, Hermione. Take it.

What are you saying?

I'm telling you to live your life for a while. Do not use me as a crutch, a reason to not extend yourself to others. You have a whole new world open to you. Find your place.

Without you? That's what you're saying, isn't it?

For now. You know why it has to be this way.

Silence.

You need to heal. As do I. As does the entire magical world. That takes time. I will not have it said that anything unseemly happened between us.

I would never let anyone think that.

You cannot control what people think, Hermione. Healing isn't going to happen overnight for either of us.

So, time?

Yes. Can you see why I do not want to leave one commitment and jump into another? Potential to be more pleasant aside, going back to our long ago discussion of having magical children that led to a dose of the silent treatment for me. I would do you no good right now. I am not at peace with myself. That is not the way to start … anything. You deserve better than that.

I understand.

That is not to say I will be closed off to you any longer. Those days are done, but …

It's not a good habit to be in if we're trying to find ourselves.

Thank you for seeing reason. This is not a reflection on you. At all. If the past twenty years had not been what they were I'd be in a very different frame of mind on this subject.

You would?

You can be assured of that, yes.

Are you really leaving Britain?

I think so. For now. He shrugged, not that she'd see it. I may return. I may not. I really don't know. For someone like me who has had no choice in things for a good many years it's a rather freeing and incredible feeling to have an option.

Can I do anything?

Just continue to be you. Insufferable know it all and all.

She laughed at that, which he was pleased to hear.

Are you okay? he asked, realizing he did not, in fact, know how she was doing since he returned home. She hadn't pestered him to visit, appreciatively. He had no desire to allow her to see his home. He would close it up before leaving versus selling it so maybe one day he'd return and he'd invite her to visit.

I am. I'm still staying with Harry.

NEWTs?

Sat last week.

Good. I look forward to seeing what you can do without a war.

Me, too.

Silence.

So, is this goodbye?

I think for now it has to be.

Okay then. Be well, Severus. I really hope that you find what you're looking for.

She was gone from his mind then. He could feel her withdrawal. He stared at his left arm and the faded Dark Mark there, resting against the fireplace mantel. He hoped doing what he'd just done wasn't the biggest mistake of his life.

Severus sighed as he saw the regular customer approaching his apothecary. Of course she'd come here today when his emotions were already … raw. Just as they'd been the previous two years on this date. He may be away from Britain, but he knew what today was.

He mourned.

And he remembered.

The anniversary of the date he got a new lease on life.

Three years ago he'd looked at it quite differently.

He'd looked at it as if he'd been deprived of the death he'd wanted.

Nay deserved.

He'd worked for nearly twenty years to that end. He'd known when he changed sides that he was signing his death warrant.

He'd been shocked he made it out of the first wizarding war alive. Scarred, bitter, and more alone than he had ever been. Voldemort was dead but there had been so much loss. Lily was still dead. He was still stuck working at Hogwarts because for some bizarre reason Dumbledore believed the Dark Lord wasn't gone for good.

Horcruxes.

Severus scoffed aloud with a shake of his head as he thought of them. He wasn't sure if Dumbledore knew for certain of them back in 1981 or not. Severus had had three years to think on that. If the old man had known but done nothing to find them for nearly fifteen years Severus' respect for the wizard would plummet. It was pretty low already after he'd ordered Severus to kill him.

Ginevra Weasley could have died as the result of one of those horcruxes! A student! An innocent. Dumbledore would still be alive if he hadn't put that cursed ring on, but he was a grown man who'd chosen (stupidly) to put that ring on. Ginevra Weasley had not chosen to take that diary nor could she have willingly done so at age eleven.

So many things to think about. So many things to have … feelings about.

So here this witch was on the last day he wanted to worry about burying things. He tried to occlude like crazy when he saw the witch enter his apothecary. 

He had to.

He was not afraid of her knowing his thoughts. As far as he knew she'd never tried to do that and it was laughable to think she'd be able to. Why would she? She didn't know who he was. No one here did. He'd covered his tracks quite well, and hadn't settled here until a year ago. The second wizarding war and defeat of Voldemort wasn't forgotten, of course, but it certainly wasn't reported about as rabidly as it had been.

The two years before that? The two years after the war. He'd traveled extensively. He went wherever and stayed however long he wanted. He'd seen sights that he and Geta had seen on TV or in magazines and books as children and dreamt of visiting. He hadn't really meant to stay here when he'd arrived two years ago.

So, no. It wasn't this witch he feared.

He was afraid of another witch knowing his thoughts.

The first time this particular witch had entered his store and … flirted with him. His soul mark had not liked that at all. He wasn't sure what he'd been feeling that made her aware of anything unusual happening. He had never in his life had a female flirt with him (not legitimately anyway, sure some had for various reasons of wanting things from him), so he'd been too stunned at first to realize what she was doing. He must have reacted in some way, though, that his witch knew there was a threat .

As if.

This witch was … not to Severus' tastes at all. She was more Lucius' type. Glamorous, rich. Seemingly anyway. High maintenance as muggles said. If this witch truly knew him she'd realize she had no chance. He did not crave box seats at the theatre or dinner at the Ministère.

Not that he wouldn't do those things if required of him by his witch, but he did not want them. They were not prerequisites nor were they particular interests to him. The more he observed Hermione over the years the more he realized that she was not high maintenance.

He was just here going about his business and life.

Quietly.

Settling in as he made peace with his past and the actions (his own and otherwise) that led to him being here, hoping a witch across the Atlantic Ocean didn't get angry with him. Over things he had no control over!

It was four or five months ago she'd first discovered his store. She was not overly subtle in her intentions. Her visits increased in number. He was not receptive to her overtures. She seemed to take that as a challenge. She did not know that he was not here to find a witch. Her presence seemed to affect him in such a manner that the soul mark reacted every time she patroned his store.

So occluding it was.

He already felt … guilt at just leaving her as he had. Despite her claiming she understood he knew there were paths he could have taken other than fleeing Britain and to this point not returning. (That anyone knew about anyway.)

He'd had to do it.

What his witch failed to realize was that every time this witch came to his store and made the soul mark react with a burning reminder that he had a soulmate he used it as an excuse to portkey to London and catch a glimpse of her.

His witch.

Hermione.

One time he came close to actually approaching Grimmauld Place, but thought better of it at the last minute.

Most recently he made it into the very familiar kitchen despite the decor being updated, heard laughter on the other side of the door and couldn't … intrude.

There'd been other visits, sightings, over the years to assure himself she was okay. Thriving. The laughter had made him have second thoughts of attempting to claim her so publicly. In front of others. She might reject him.

When wasn't she around Potter, though? She still resided with the wizard.

"A lovely day, is it not?" she asked when she came into the store.

"It is passable," he said.

It was early May in Canada. The snow had melted, but the days were not quite warm enough to go without outerwear of some sort.

She came in near closing time today he noticed. No doubt intentionally. She'd been coming in later and later every visit it seemed, dropping subtle hints of interest. (Even he recognized them. He wasn't daft.) She wasn't an unattractive witch. She was always dressed nicely and was capable of stringing more than two or three sentences together without sounding like a dunderhead. She would no doubt make a wizard happy.

Just not him. Even without Hermione to consider he wouldn't be interested.

"I have your order ready for you," he said.

"I'm still so surprised I find this quality here at this little store," she said. "I always had to go elsewhere until you opened up."

It wasn't the first time he'd heard that. He'd had to basically give away some of his more common products to get business at first. Eventually, though, his obvious quality became the talk of the local magical community. He managed to put two of the other apothecaries in the area out of business in no time flat. He wasn't necessarily proud of that, but he couldn't help that his products were superior.

"Looks can indeed be deceiving," he said. "I am of course glad that you enjoy my quality."

"I absolutely do."

"Thank you."

"I was going to head to Le mousse du sorcier for a drink before going home."

She'd never actually posed the question of him leaving with her before, so he was very glad he was occluding as strongly as he was today. Then again, she hadn't exactly asked now either.

"I've heard that is a good choice to end one's day and unwind," he said.

He truly had no idea what she did to know whether it was the end of her day but assumed so.

He'd heard many in the area talk about it. It seemed it was akin to Hogsmeade's Three Broomsticks or Diagon Alley's Leaky Cauldron. A friendly gathering place for magical people in the area.

"Have you ever been?"

He scoffed inwardly. Outwardly, he was the polite apothecary owner he presented to the Canadian magical world. As if he wanted to rub elbows with magical people who might recognize him. He wasn't hiding, necessarily, but he was not ready to walk into a bar and introduce himself. He did not want to talk about the war or his role in it.

"I'm afraid not, no. I am not much of a people person, which is why I work alone."

"You should come."

There was the invitation. He had no idea what he'd done to gain this witch's attentions.

"Another time, mayhaps. I have brewing to tend to this evening."

"There's more to life than brewing, Mr. Tobias."

A clue she knew absolutely nothing about him. Not that she could since she didn't know him.

"Not if one enjoys doing it."

There was a part of him, the curious and inquisitive part that wanted to know things , that wondered if he shouldn't take this witch up on her offer the second time she'd hinted at interest. He'd feigned cluelessness, but he knew what she was doing from his observations of women with Geta, Ambrosius, and various wizards over the years. That thought process led to a feeling in his gut that he had not liked experiencing at all. The feeling in the shared mark played little into him shutting that idea down. Casual dalliances had never held an appeal to him. And, in truth, this witch held no appeal to him whatsoever.

He'd looked more than his fair share while traveling and since setting up shop here. Wanting to see if … anyone would strike his fancy. The looks never went anywhere, not even friendship. The idea of Hermione … knowing of, experiencing him, being with someone was a deterrent certainly. He also didn't need nor want the complication that came with entanglements. He really did want to sort out what he wanted. To be ready if - when? - she was ready for him.

"I make the best because it is something I take very seriously. Let me get your items."

He took his leave then, going to the back to get her meticulously prepared order.

"Is there another establishment that might entice you?" she asked when he returned.

"I'm afraid not," he said politely. Was no not enough?

He had to hold back his scathing response. It would not do to chase a good customer away. He sighed heavily, his mark was throbbing. That meant he wasn't doing as good a job at occluding as he should be. She was reacting to him.

Great. That was not what he wanted today. Likely her emotions were raw today, too.

"I have a witch," he said, the admission sounding foreign coming from him. He had never, in forty-one years, been able to lay claim to a witch. He wasn't even truly sure he could now. "I am already spoken for. She would not approve of such an excursion."

She glanced at his left hand then to his face. There was disbelief and possibly amusement in her eyes.

"You don't have to lie to me."

"I am not lying."

"I've never heard anyone talk about you with a witch. No one even knows where you live."

There was a reason for that. He lived on an island on the other side of St. Mary's River. In the United States' Michigan. He and a little over six hundred other people lived rather peacefully.

Most importantly, privately.

He worked here and he slept at home with the casual foray into gardening. Socializing among magical people was not on his agenda.

The island was only approachable by ferry.

Or apparition in his case.

The home was small and a rental. It was owned by a family who didn't want to sell the property that had been in their family for several generations. No one among the current generation wanted to live on an island in the middle of nowhere any longer. They were happy to have someone who was willing to do "fix-it" projects in exchange for discounts on the rent. Busy work, but he liked using his hands in such a fashion.

So very different from making potions yet nonetheless satisfying.

He had befriended the next door neighbour on either side of his property. One was a bachelor like himself. The other was a family whose children were in college so were seldom home. Both men were a bit older than he was, but they'd struck a bit of a friendship over their various gardening and handyman escapades.

Severus Snape never thought he'd see the day where he'd have a house with a porch that had a table and chairs set up for visitors. They always ended up at his place after their various chores as his house was in the middle. And yet he did. During the winter they even met in his garage sometimes after clearing snow. He'd go home this evening, Chayton and Georges would find their way to that very table and chairs on his porch for an adult beverage and to share stories of their respective days.

It was something he'd never had before, other than with Geta and in some ways Ambrosius. He liked it. He almost thought the two men were doing more for him than he was for them. He even this past winter sat in Georges and Chayton's living rooms, watching American football games. Evidently, their favoured team was rather helpless, but they were both rabid and loyal. It would take Severus a lot longer than a few games to understand the game, but listening to the two men cheer, and voice their frustrations, was something he could relate to as far as quidditch.

These friendships, these small things, these moments of extending himself beyond his comfort zone were making him … more. More what he wasn't sure, but certainly less closed off. He engaged in small talk. He had conversations that were about the weather and how to deal with mosquitos. Not everything had to be serious and mean something.

He laughed even, something he couldn't remember doing this often ever before in his life.

He had things to laugh about! He told jokes!

He wasn't sure what no one knowing where he lived had to do with whether he was involved or not. Unless she was implying that he couldn't possibly have someone because no one ever saw him doing anything. Of course they did not. It was the way he wanted it.

It was intentional.

He very much enjoyed his quiet existence.

He tended to stray to the muggle areas more often than not when he wanted to be out amongst people. Tourists were somewhat fun. He could talk to the husband of a woman who was shopping while he was spending time at a local bar and never see the man again. A bit of conversation with no expectation of more or risk of anyone recognizing him. It was perfect. A great way for someone like himself who was rather reclusive to keep a finger on what was happening in the world. And to keep from anyone stumbling on his identity.

"Mm," he said simply. It would not do to alienate this witch. "I assure you that I am spoken for and where I reside has nothing to do with this, my place of business."

She gave a slight pout that he supposed was meant to be flirtatious or something, but he just shook his head. "Will there be anything additional today?"

"No," she said.

He collected her money and watched her leave after the transaction was complete.

His hand went to his chest and the mark he knew was there. He rubbed the spot lightly. He wasn't sure why he couldn't take those final steps to her the times he'd gone to London. He couldn't see her the one or two times he had actually gotten close as to be in the position to do so.

Fear?

He'd actually seen her last about a year ago, from a distance. He recognized her hair, and the feeling of … relief that washed through him at actually seeing her. Seeing that she was in fact whole and well. He felt nothing from the mark in that moment so she was obviously unaware of his close proximity (as he wanted it). He hoped, though, that the feeling of relief aided her, let her know that he was also alive and well. His other visits, he'd heard her or caught a glimpse. Glimpses were enough.

With a flick of his wrist he turned the window sign to CLOSED and locked his door, setting his wards.

He went to the back area then, glancing at the only personal effect he had here in his store. A picture of Geta, Ambrosius, and him. He knew what Geta would say to him. He'd tell him to get on with it. He had the potential for something in the rest of his life. Geta would tell him to take the risk.

He'd lived when he shouldn't have. It was a new future. An unwritten future that no longer looked like everything in it would turn to shit.

And Ambrosius? He likely would, too, but for different reasons. Ambrosius would think his leaving London in the first place was a fool's errand. Running away from what was clearly his destiny. He would not have understood his desire not to strap the witch … Hermione … to him immediately after a war.

He'd needed this time. The anonymity. No one here knew his name. They knew him only as Mr. Tobias. Whether Tobias was his first or last name, no one knew. Of course, it was neither. The irony of him using his father's name wasn't lost on him, but he could think of no better way to ensure he wasn't discovered. Anyone who knew anything about him would surely look for him under any name but that one.

He wondered what she was doing. Closing time here meant she was likely asleep. Was she working? He assumed she was and successfully at that. He had purposely avoided the Daily Prophet, not wanting to read anything about wizarding Britain's happenings. He caught glimpses of it during his trips there but he didn't subscribe to it or go out of his way here to keep abreast of happenings there. He certainly did not want to see her on the arm of another wizard. A possibility he knew could happen as a result of him leaving her as he had. He would not blame her. There were certainly far more suitable options for her.

She was marked for you, Severus. How much more suitable could there be?

He knew this was true. Fundamentally. It didn't mean he wanted to make her accept it. Nor was he certain that she would be ready to. He was afraid she'd see him after this long and realize he was in fact an old, ugly, scarred bastard who didn't deserve her.

If he had stayed, she wouldn't have had the opportunity to date. To find him lacking. To decide that she could do better.

Yet he knew full well that this distance and time were necessary. For both of them. He would have been absolutely no good for her, for anyone, immediately after the war. He wasn't sure he was ready yet but the idea of actually talking to her on her birthday this year seemed more a possibility than it had last year. He'd heard her talking with Harry and the others the last time he was there and didn't want to risk laughter aimed at him so he'd left.

"She won't wait forever will she, Geta?" he asked the picture. This one wasn't magical, so it did not wave, look at, or respond to him. The magical picture of the five of them was at his home, tucked away in his bedroom (where his neighbours never went) so that his neighbours wouldn't see a moving photograph.

"I'm somewhat content here, though," he murmured.

Somewhat being relative.

He knew full well there was a … piece … missing from his life. Mentally, physically, and spiritually. Without her present beside him he knew it would always be incomplete. He was willing, wanting, to accept that less and less these days.

He was much closer to being ready to claim that missing piece than he had been three years ago. He wondered if she would be content here with him. Would that be possible? Or would he be forced to return to wizarding Britain despite his contentment here?

Would she even want him now after years of no real contact? He picked through his trash to find an item he could use for today's portkey. He knew he wouldn't speak to her today, but he wanted to ensure she was truly all right. It was how he justified these covert visits to this point.

NOTE: Many thanks to calico_k on the Discord server for helping me come up with the name of the bar mentioned here.

***Chapter Eleven***

August 2003

She hadn't heard from him for over five years.

Nothing.

Not an owl or a regular letter.

Not a phone call (not that she had a phone number anymore for him to call).

No shared thoughts.

The feelings through the mark were there, but it wasn't the same. It wasn't … communication.

At least she knew he was alive and well.

And he did seem well, judging by the feelings she got from the mark.

The year before the final battle had not been easy for anyone, but she knew it was especially unpleasant for Severus. Some viewed him as having been safely ensconced within Hogwarts' walls. True to a point, sure. The fact that someone who had experienced physical torment while a student there had to stand by as headmaster and allow … unthinkable things to go on she knew hadn't been easy for him.

Before Bill and Fleur's wedding when he seemed to figure out that the three of them would not be at Hogwarts in the fall they'd had one last conversation. He'd somehow managed to close himself off completely to her after it. He'd warned her that he was going to attempt it, so she wasn't taken by surprise.

It still felt … wrong.

For years she'd shared a magical connection with someone and gotten to know him in ways she wagered no one else ever had. That was gone. The feelings through the mark were even less.

She'd sat with him while he convalesced after the war, but eventually he'd gone home and she hadn't been invited to visit. She didn't know where exactly he lived other than Cokeworth. She could have found him she imagined, but she wasn't going to invade his rightfully earned privacy. If he'd wanted her to visit he would have given her the information. He'd told her he didn't plan on staying there. That he would contact her again once he was settled.

Out of sight, out of mind.

She knew he was okay because she … felt that was true.

The night of the final battle she'd known why he'd been so pissed off at Harry after going to the Department of Mysteries the night Sirius died.

There was one huge difference.

Severus Snape knew life prior to their marks being active.

She did not.

She just knew that day of what was now called the final battle, there'd all of the sudden been a void, a hole, inside of her that she hadn't even been aware of. It had brought her to her knees for a moment because she didn't know how to function without that … piece there.

She had no idea how dependent upon him, that connection, she'd become.

He had survived, of course, but where he'd had an hour or so of their connection being silent / dormant. She'd had days. She had tried legilimens as he'd done with her, but it hadn't worked. She wasn't as accomplished at the art as he was. At least that was what she told herself when she wondered if that meant he was never going to wake up and come back. She knew he wanted, contented himself, to die.

She'd hoped she, the possibility of something, would give him an incentive to live.

Live he had. She'd sat with him for weeks while he recovered. Madam Pomfrey told the St. Mungo's staff she was not to be asked to leave his side.

It was good to have powerful friends.

He'd wanted to leave.

She understood why. Why Hogwarts and probably wizarding Britain as a whole would not be appealing to him. She was literally the only one who'd believed in him. Well, and Madam Pomfrey as it turned out. She'd tried to defend him, as he said though not as hard as she would have liked to, but no one would listen. Especially when he'd killed the headmaster. And then becoming the headmaster himself. Heads had spun at the very idea of "the traitor" occupying that office.

She wasn't going to be that witch that became obsessive. He'd said they were friends. Maybe he viewed friendship differently than she did. Maybe now that the war was over a friend nineteen years younger than him wasn't what he wanted. She couldn't imagine going five years without talking to Harry, Ron, Neville, Ginny, or Luna.

She went back to the time in her fifth year when she hadn't answered him. His words about not having magical children with her had hurt. Not that she wanted children right now, or any time soon. He wasn't wrong about that. Of course she didn't, but she'd read enough about soulmates and soul marks to know that it was an incredible gift.

She had tried going out on a few dates with Ronald shortly after the war's end. They'd been disastrously uncomfortable. Once school and the war were done, they just really had nothing to talk about. He was all about quidditch and getting married as soon as possible. As soon as they'd gotten that out of the way and realized they were friends. Just friends. Well, they were back to being Ronald, Harry, and Hermione. They were lucky. It could have ended very badly. Harry had tried to set her up more than a few times over the years when it was clear whatever had been between her and Ron was definitely not happening.

She'd felt nothing. Absolutely nothing. It was so frustrating!

One had been not just smart and attractive but funny and interested enough in quidditch that she knew he wasn't afraid to admit he had an interest that differed from hers. That was good, right? He wouldn't expect her to go to quidditch matches all of the time and she wouldn't expect him to sit in the library with her for hours.

Win win. Or so she thought.

And tried.

More than once.

Except she'd felt nothing. Worse than nothing. He'd kissed her good night more than once and it was worse than kissing Harry. It wasn't a brotherly thing.

It just felt wrong.

These men weren't her wizard.

They weren't him despite never more than a quick kiss to the edge of his mouth she knew with every fibre of her being that kissing him would not feel like nothing. Would not feel wrong.

She hadn't been offended that Severus wanted to go in the least. If anyone deserved some time for himself. Well, she couldn't think of anyone who deserved it more. She was rational enough to know that and want that for him.

She was busy herself. She'd sat her NEWTs and been offered more than a handful of positions. She ended up settling, for the moment, on the Committee on Experimental Charms. She took that position, hoping that it would give her access to something to help her parents. The other position she'd eyed with longing was in the Department of Magical Education. Maybe once she got her parents back? She really thought improvements could be made in the educational process. She'd like to spearhead those having experienced them recently.

She was all about getting her parents back and figuring out what she wanted to do with the rest of her life. That was her priority. The position she'd taken went to that. No one but a select few knew what she'd done. It had taken her this long to get everything together, including her mindset, to come here to actually see if she could try. She'd compiled a lot of research, lots of information she thought had potential.

Here.

Australia.

She'd seen them today for the first time in six years. It had made her feel … good and despondent at the same time.

Good because while it had taken her this long to track them down and get enough time off to actually stay for a while she saw them. She'd used portkeys on weekends when she could while she was conducting her search. They hadn't been as easy to find as she'd presumed. She had found them though and they were alive and well.

Despondent because they looked quite happy when she finally caught a glimpse of them. Happy as a childless married couple, oblivious to the fact that they had an almost twenty-four year old daughter.

Her parents were happy.

Her soulmate was evidently happy. Doing something. She didn't get much from their shared mark, but she knew he was okay. She knew there was something that made him nervous and excited on a somewhat regular basis. That bothered her. She couldn't help but think of Lily Potter and realize that she looked nothing like the other witch. She believed he wasn't in love with her. That had to mean he'd been attracted to her. Maybe their mark wasn't enough for him to overlook her appearance. She didn't think she was deficient, but he'd thought he was in love with the other witch for years.

She was in her muggle hotel room, watching a true crime TV show feeling sorry for herself because the day had been a bust. She could admit that. It was a few years old, but given she hadn't had much time for TV shows since her second or third year at Hogwarts it didn't matter much. It was new to her.

She yawned, picking through the bag of crisps to stray from the few burnt ones she'd found as the episode narrator introduced this episode's topic. She was debating about whether to approach her parents tomorrow, talk to them. Her gut was churning at the prospect of it.

It was supposed to be the job to end all jobs. Every detail planned and researched. On paper, the perfect crime if executed flawlessly. The only thing Hans Gruber hadn't counted on was off-duty New York police officer John McClane being on the scene. Tonight we're looking back on the notorious Nakatomi Plaza incident ten years later. After the break, we'll speak with Ginny Tyska, one of the survivors and Holly Gennero's secretary. Her first born son is named John because of Officer John McClane's efforts on that fateful Christmas Eve night in Los Angeles in 1988.

Hermione almost choked on the crisp she had just taken a bite out of when a picture of the primary characters in the episode were put up on the screen. She didn't know John McClane, Holly Gennero, or Theo Mathis and wouldn't recognize them today walking on the street.

Hans Gruber, though.

She knew that face.

And more importantly, she knew that the owner of that face actually did have a twin.

December 1988.

More specifically Christmas Eve 1988.

So a little less than three years before she'd started at Hogwarts. He would have been … twenty-eight. She thought she remembered him telling her that their birthday was shortly after Christmas. So, almost twenty-nine then.

Hans had shorter hair and facial hair, though she'd seen Severus scruffy a few times. Particularly the days she was in the infirmary after the Department of Mysteries and he visited her to administer her potions.

And check on her status.

She'd looked forward to those moments. She thought he had, too.

This though wasn't scruff. It was purposeful. Groomed and cared for to look meticulous. And the suit he wore in the picture they posted. He looked … good. She stood and walked up to the TV, tracing the lines of Hans Gruber's face before the picture disappeared from the screen.

God, they really were identical. She could see subtle differences from the picture, but they weren't physical differences, more mannerisms. A look in his eye, smug and confident. Yes, Severus had that look, too, but there was still an uncertainty, a shyness about him that Hans Gruber did not exude.

She pulled out the laptop she'd bought for this trip so that she'd have something to do in between looking for and spying on her parents over the next two weeks. (That sounded way too creepy even in her mind than it should. She wasn't really spying on them!)

She searched the name. He'd never told her his twin went by another name, but when she'd seen him at the muggle restaurant before her third year he'd introduced his brother as Simon. When they'd communicated, his name was Ambrosius and he'd impressed upon her to think of him as Simon.

So, if Ambrosius had changed his name. Had Hans, too? Geta she thought he'd said. He'd never mentioned Hans that she could remember. There hadn't been a reason to since he'd been dead by the time she got to Hogwarts and they'd started to form their friendship.

Doing some research she was confident that Hans Gruber was Geta Snape. He'd earned quite the reputation between 1978 as an up and comer in the criminal world and his death in 1988. And there was absolutely nothing that she could find linking him to Severus or Britain as a whole. The episode had clips of Hans speaking and she had to admit if she didn't know he'd started out British she wouldn't have a clue that he wasn't truly German.

How interesting.

After the episode finished, she got ready for bed, turning off the light before sliding under the blankets. She sighed softly, getting comfortable on the pillow. She'd been to a few hotels here in Australia that were just shy of being dives. This one, though, she splurged since she wasn't sure how long she'd spend in it.

And, well, she wanted to spoil herself, too, not knowing how emotional the visit might make her. Seeing them. Potentially speaking to them. She hadn't done anything extravagant for herself. She thought after the past twelve years she deserved two weeks of a bit of luxury.

Seeing his brother, though, made her … miss him. Which was odd because other than in his office at Hogwarts and his room at St. Mungo's it was not as if they'd spent time with one another. Still. She missed him. She missed their talks. Was he really okay? Didn't he want to talk to her? Did he miss her?

She pushed as hard as she ever had pushed. She hadn't tried before now. At first, before the war finished, she hadn't wanted to breach his occlumency shields. If she brought them down once there was no telling he'd be able to get them up again and she wouldn't risk that.

Now, though, with the war over that shouldn't be a concern. There was no risk anymore. Was there? She didn't sense he was occluding anymore, merely just not reaching out. They were both purposely avoiding their thoughts bleeding to the other. There were subtle tells that let her know he was there, reachable.

Severus?

Please don't be mad. Please don't be mad.

What is wrong?

What?

You made me drop my tea with the power of that summons. So I ask again, what is wrong?

Oh, I'm sorry. I just haven't tried I guess since you told me you were leaving. And I hadn't heard from you since you left Britain so assumed you still might be blocking.

Okay.

If you don't want to hear from me…

I did not say that, Hermione. I did not have to answer.

I know, I just. It's been five years, Severus.

Yes, well, I told you I needed time to settle. I'm still not feeling particularly settled.

I'm sorry. I was just watching a true crime thing today that made me think of you.

I'm sorry?

She laughed then, realizing how that sounded.

Muggle TV true crime documentary about the Nakatomi Plaza standoff.

Oh.

Seeing his picture, hearing his voice even though it was accented it was still … You.

She sighed. She wasn't explaining this very well. She needed him!

Was there a followup production on our younger brother?

Mm, not that I saw. Should I look for one?

I don't know. He went after Officer McClane and paid the same price for doing so Geta did.

Was he Gruber, too?

No, not legally, but he did go by Simon Gruber after Geta died from my understanding. I never understood why. I presume he wanted the notoriety of being Hans Gruber's brother then and had not prior to that time.

She could plainly hear the disdain in his tone. She knew their actions frustrated him. She imagined he still missed them.

Okay, well, I won't bother you.

You are not bothering me.

She huffed. Why was this so hard? She wanted to talk to him, but what she really wanted was what she was missing by him being gone. She wanted him. She wanted to feel more than what the mark allowed her to. She couldn't say that, though. That was very selfish when he'd been good enough to tell her he needed to sort through things. She totally understood why he needed this time. And why he thought she needed it to.

I miss you. I miss this.

I have as well.

Then why haven't you…

I did actually.

You have not! You can't lie about this, Severus. I know that you haven't. Unless you sent an owl and they went to the wrong house. I've gotten other mail at Harry's so I'm sure that's not it. That means you're lying.

Your birthday this past year I was going to see if you wanted to have dinner with me.

You were?

The Daily Prophet led me to believe you were still living at Potter's. The Quibbler apparently values your privacy and does not reveal such bits of information. You were very obviously otherwise occupied at Potter's from my position in the kitchen allowing me to overhear so I took my leave. It wasn't the first time either.

Oh, Severus. You should have said something.

And look like an even bigger fool than I already look to everyone in wizarding Britain? No, thank you.

That's still more than four years after I last saw you.

Oh, it wasn't my first attempt, just one of the few where I actually made it through the barriers and into Grimmauld Place. Potter needs to set some wards or anyone will be walking in.

I think they were down for my birthday. We usually have them up. I swear we do. Harry likes to make a big deal about my birthday since my parents can't.

Good. That he has wards up and that you had a celebration, deservingly so.

So, you just weren't going to talk to me again because I had a date?

That was not your first date. I have observed you with others. My goal in life Hermione is not to…

Don't say that. My birthday was Charles or maybe it was Gideon. I can't remember. Someone Harry assumed I'd hit it off fabulously with as he always does because he's Harry and wants to see me as happy as he is with Ginny. Since he lets me live with them for free, though I do babysit their son sometimes. You're not the only one who doesn't want to look like a fool, you know? Try explaining to anyone that you have a soulmate who doesn't want to be with you.

Tears formed in her eyes and she choked back a sob.

So, yes, I tried. That's what you seemed to want me to do! You weren't here and you weren't talking to me. You hurt me. The mark isn't enough! I know you're okay, so you knew that I was okay tonight, too.

I suppose I did, but I also presumed if you were calling me as you did with a seeming urgency there was a reason.

Well, thanks, seeing that show just made me think about you.

She sighed again, knowing she needed to go to sleep if she had any hope of seeing her parents and not seeming like a raving lunatic tomorrow. Talking to him wasn't really helping either. It was nice, but it just made her realize he wasn't here. It made her feel raw.

I should go.

Hot date?

Oh yes. Tomorrow's is a man and another woman.

Okay, now I know you're joking.

I'm not actually. I'm going to see my mum and dad tomorrow and try to strike up a conversation with them as a random stranger and not appear as if I'm a raging lunatic. The conversation part may not happen. We'll see.

You're in Australia?

Yes. Beechworth is where they ended up. It's sort of in between Melbourne and Sydney. It took me this long to find them. I'm not sure how they ended up here. Melbourne's much closer. So maybe they decided they didn't care for Melbourne and just stopped at the first town that appealed to them. I can see this town doing that.

Are they well?

I don't know. They seem to be. Happy.

May I ask where you are staying?

It's actually a really neat muggle hotel. The Hibernian. It's over one hundred years old, and I just fell in love with the pictures when I was looking for a place to stay. It's more like a little apartment, which is nice because I can make breakfast and keep food here while I'm in town. I have two weeks so eating out would get expensive. I don't know if I'll use all of it here. I may break down in tears tomorrow realizing that they, like you, are apparently better off without me and just go home or find myself in Moscow.

Moscow?

I just threw it out there. I have no desire to see Russia at the moment.

Ah. So Australia, that means it's after one in the morning there, Hermione.

I know. What time is it there?

Not one in the morning.

Evasive. All right. I can take a hint. You don't want me to know. Okay. Well, bye then. Sorry to have bothered you for something I'm sure that you think is ridiculously stupid. Maybe next time you're in London you'll actually let me know you're there.

Ah. There's that ire. I've only had it aimed at me once and then it was more silent treatment than lashing out.

Well, clearly if you wanted to share with me…

I'm in America. Michigan. A little island near Sault Ste Marie. It's about as far North as I can be without being in Canada. It snows like crazy here. You'd think after years in Scotland I'd pick Florida or Mexico. It's nine o'clock in the morning here. Thus the tea. There's a magical community right across the border in Canada. I have an apothecary there. Thus far it has suited my needs more than acceptably.

I see.

So, now you know where I am. Feel better?

Yes.

I'm not upset that you have gone on dates, Hermione. I want you to do that.

Again with the romance, Severus.

I want you to make any decision with reasonable research done.

Am I the one making a decision?

I would not force you into an … acceptance. So, yes.

So you have no preference?

I never thought I'd see the end of the war. I never imagined a life involving anyone else. Do I find myself wanting to share things with you? Wishing on a particular beautiful sunset or sunrise that you were sitting next to me observing it? Yes.

I can't think about this tonight, Severus. It's too much.

I understand. I do. I just do not want you thinking I am upset or think badly of you for doing what witches your age should be doing. I do not. I did not leave with any sort of commitment or promise from you. My not making my presence known on your birthday and the other times I have visited is on me and has nothing to do with you. It is my fear that you have made the decision to pursue other avenues and ending in my feeling even more embarrassed.

I'm not going to embarrass you.

I know you wouldn't intentionally. Minds are funny things, especially about things that are mostly driven by emotion.

No commitment or promise, huh? Should I wonder what you've been up to?

No. I can assure you there have been no dates. That was not what I needed nor wanted to do.

That is good to know. Thank you.

We are good?

We are. I did miss this, though.

I have as well. Sleep well, Witch.

Enjoy your day.

He scoffed and she laughed at that, hearing it through their connection.

At least I'm brewing on my own.

No dunderheads?

Correct.

Lucky. Unfortunately, I cannot say the same.

Pity.

Mm.

Sleep, Witch. We can talk more tomorrow if you wish to.

Promise?

As if I can truly escape you, but yes.

Hermione gave a loud and none too ladylike gasp of surprise when she got out to her rental car the next morning. Standing, rather leaning, against it was none other than Severus Snape.

She squinted a bit as she regarded him.

He looked good.

The five years had obviously been good to him. No longer too thin from being overworked and exhausted from being pulled in two directions plus having to teach a dangerous class.

She felt … uncertainty via their marks. She knew it was him, but years of fighting a war and being captured and tortured. Well, she had to ask.

"When was the first time I met you?"

"Technically? The day you were born you made your insufferable presence known to me all day long. There was also the time you read your Hogwarts letter to me as I drifted off to sleep. Do I need to go on?"

"No," she said, rushing to close the difference between them and throw her arms around his waist. It was incredibly forward, certainly other than a friendly kiss she'd given him years ago it was the closest she'd really gotten to him but she couldn't help herself. He was here! He'd come to her!

His arms went around her and she sighed into his chest contentedly very much how Crookshanks snuggled against her when he was feeling affectionate as he drew her further into his embrace. This had been what was missing.

Hers.

Even his scent, the smell of him was right.

Home.

"What are you doing here?"

"Would you believe I was in the neighborhood?"

She snorted. "No."

"Well then that's a daft question to ask. Clearly I'm here for you."

"Why?"

"You contacted me. That was the sign I was waiting for, I suppose. I think we both needed time post-war to acclimate ourselves. I'm not sure I'm done yet, but contrary to what you may believe I was relieved to hear from you."

"Should I be sorry it took me so long? I assumed you'd contact me."

"I was not fifteen when we discovered what our marks were and what they meant."

"I suppose you're right."

"My plan was not to use an unauthorized portkey to jettison off to Australia at the drop of a hat as soon as you did contact me. That may seem a little too … excited than I wish to portray myself. However, I know how badly you want your parents returned to you. I presume two minds trying to figure out a way to bring your parents back to you can't hurt."

"You want to help me?"

"I can feel it when you think about them. I'm not sure you're aware of that. I am sure you feel me as I feel you and know what various things mean. That is to say, you get a feeling about you … Melancholy, I suppose. I can always tell when you're thinking about them. It's completely foreign to me, caring about your parents, but that's irrelevant. I don't find it particularly enjoyable feeling that, so let's observe your parents and see what we can do."

"Because you don't want to feel that anymore?"

"No, because I don't want you to feel that anymore, Hermione."

She drew away a bit, tilting her head up to look at him and he kissed her forehead. That made her blush. And feel warm.

"Thank you."

"You are welcome. The office would not let me know which room was yours and I didn't want to use magic since you indicated you may be here for two weeks. It seems the right amount of money loosened their lips as to which motor vehicle was yours."

"Well, that's kind of good, I guess."

He chuckled.

"Yes, well, it is what it is."

"How long have you been standing here?"

"Not overlong. I disillusioned myself until I saw you come out so that no one would wonder why I was standing here."

"I'm sorry."

"Nothing to apologize for."

"You really want to do this?"

"I do," he said.

"All right," she said, stepping away from him. She got a little thrill that he hadn't pulled away or anything. He touched her back! He hadn't just stood there when she hugged him. He kissed her!

"First," she said, eyeing him as if she still wasn't really certain he was standing here. His telling smirk said he knew it, too.

"Yes?"

"Kiss me," she whispered.

"What?"

"I need to know something."

"And my kissing you will tell you?"

"I think so," she said.

She thought he was going to laugh at her for a second. He leaned in, though, sliding his arms still at her hips around her waist and tugged her closer. His mouth found hers and she gasped. He started to draw away, but she clutched to him.

This.

She'd thought there was something wrong with her.

She'd thought she was frigid or possibly not interested in men. (She found that odd because she knew that she was not attracted to women.)

She sighed against his lips. He did the same.

"Did that tell you what you need to know?"

"Mostly," she said, sounding coy.

"Mostly?"

"You may need to do it again to be sure I'm right in my thinking."

"It would not be problematic catering to that wish."

"Good to hear."

"I can return home a happy wizard."

"Maybe you could show me? Home, I mean."

"After we've determined what can be done about your parents, yes."

"Really?"

"I'd like to tempt you into joining my life rather than having to rejoin yours."

"Oh?"

"I think the potential for contentment is stronger away from London."

"I think you might be right actually. I have thought about whether I want to stay or go elsewhere. It's a huge magical world and you know me. I'm immensely curious."

"That is exceedingly good to hear since I've already announced I'm spoken for."

"Have you?"

"It may have come out, yes."

"We wouldn't want anyone to think you were lying."

"Exactly."

"Well, let's go see about fixing my parents then. I somehow can't wait to show those you've announced this to that you actually are spoken for."

"First things first obviously."

"Obviously."

"Oh, and Hermione."

"Yes?"

"I lied about Sugar Island suiting my needs, just by the way. There was very definitely something … rather someone … missing."

~The End~

Story ©Susan Matthews/APCKRFAN/PhantomRoses.com