Thicker than Water by Zara Ravenwood
Chapter Notes: A/N
Only the boy and Edmund are mine.
Thanks to MaiaMadness,Ravengryff and Violeteyes for betaing, and everyone else who helped on the way.
Severus watched the magical Quill record the names of perspective students with an odd mixture of dread and numbness. He'd known for a while now that the boy's name would appear on that list. Legally he could stop this. Legally he could deny the boy entry.
The Headmaster would kill Severus if he tried. He was sure of it. The fact that he had so brazenly hired that creature had to be some sort of subtle message. Or less than subtle. The rational side of him kept reminding him that the Headmaster would never hold a man's... offspring over his head like that. But his more paranoid side was quite convinced that one wrong move “ "wrong" being a subjective term meaning "anything that exposed Lupin" “ would have meant exposing the boy was well. Quite honestly he didn’t care if the boy was tossed to the wolves, ironic choice of words he mused , so long as Severus wasn't tossed along with him.
Still, the boy might not be coming this year. How old was he now? Surely not eleven. Not
yet. It hadn't been that long, had it? But even if it wasn't this year, the day would come eventually. Severus supposed he could ship the boy off to another educational institution; Durmstrang wouldn't , but Beauxbatons perhaps… Or maybe a smaller foreign school.
Only Dumbledore would be expecting this.
He watched the quill continue to write. Abigail Abrayston, Benthy Brathagog, Seth
Cline... Auster Feingale. Severus felt his stomach tighten at the name. The boy was here, alright, and Severus knew he would be coming. Well, at least the quill had gotten the name right.
It was a name Severus saw four times a year. Two of those times it was to send a letter to Gringotts asking them to forward the boy's Semi-Annual Housing Fee to Thule Institute of Incurable Afflictions; that was in May and September. Then, as reliable as the abrasive reaction of pepper and ground Runespore teeth, he'd get another reminder of the boy’s existence come January first and July thirty-first, when Thule sent their Semi-Annual Report. Not that Severus ever read said report.
The Potions Master glanced down at the parchment once more, his innards going oddly cold. Fear seemed to envelop him for a moment but he fought to keep his face neutral. He glanced back up to see Dumbledore give him a small nod, his eyes missing their ubiquitous twinkle. Severus knew that look; it was etched in his skull along with the words that so often accompanied it. I must say I'm rather disappointed in you Severus, I expected better.
Anger flared up in his heart “ a self-righteous fury that chased away all his fears.
The man had no right to dictate how he treated the boy. If the Headmaster wanted to show compassion to every furry, parasitic, blood-thirsty, man-eating beast on the Island he was welcome to let his own son get bitten. As far as Severus was concerned, the boy - the beast - was no longer his responsibility, save on paper.
Albus double-checked the parchment he held to make sure this was the right address. He
hadn't seen Lupin in quite some time; Remus had taken the Defense Against the Dark Arts position offered him by correspondence. Apparently he had been seeking employment abroad once more, at the time. From his letter, though, the man should be back home now, and Albus had a lot to discuss with him. Unfortunately for all involved, much of what he had to discuss dealt with Severus, and he knew the other fellow would take much of it as a betrayal. So Albus would have to dance around certain issues. It was rather vexing, actually.
People often called him a sentimental old fool, and in many ways he supposed they were
right. Yes, but what a choice. Either I pin my hopes too far for Severus to reach and
humiliate him when he falls short, or I pin them too low and leave him to suffer the
torments of having no expectations at all. At that point I might as well say, "Severus, I
trust you, but only as far as I can watch you. You are a horrific man and always will be,
and there is nothing I can do about it." That might have been the truth, but Albus
refused to believe it.
On the other hand, of all the fowl things Severus had done “ well other than joining
Voldemort, committing murder and betraying the Potters “ this one had to be the most
troubling. You expect a man to destroy his enemies. You don't expect a man to destroy his own son.
It wasn't that he sent the boy away, though surely he could have chosen a closer locale.
After all, Severus hadn't the luxury of seeking employment in a position that allowed him
to go home; he needed to be where Voldemort had sent him. Voldemort would be back one day, and Severus knew it.
That was no excuse, however, to blot out the name of his own flesh and blood.
Albus sighed and rang Remus’ door bell. Severus was Severus. Time to put this out of your mind. You'll need to heal wounds here, not make them deeper.
"Professor Dumbledore," greeted Remus with a cheerful smile that masked the fear in his
eyes. Doubtless he feared that something had gone wrong, that the board of Governors had found out, that Albus was here to retract his offer.
"Good afternoon, Remus. I was wondering if you had a moment? There've been several developments as of late that I'd like to keep you abreast of."
"I already know about Black." The young man’s voice was heavy and flat, in a manner that Albus found most disturbing. Black, not Sirius. Even with Sirius’ betrayal, that seemed... cold somehow. Not that he begrudged the reaction, but it was saddening.
But the younger man shook himself a moment later. "Please come in. Would you like some…tea?" There was only the briefest of pauses.
"Tea would very nice," Albus assured him. He wasn't sure if Remus could afford to spend
tea on him, but refusing would be that much greater of a discourtesy.
Several minutes later they were sitting, cups in hand. "First I would like to assure you
that Wolfsbane Potion will be available for you come the start of the term."
Remus actually smiled at that prospect, a real genuine smile that reminded Albus of when the man had been much younger, before... everything. "That would be wonderful," Lupin breathed. "I'm sure Professor Slughorn must have jumped at the challenge. Does he know whom it’s for?"
"Actually, Horace Slughorn retired about fourteen years ago."
Judging from the startled look on Remus’ face, the news took him aback a moment. "
Slughorn decided to retire?"
"Difficult to believe, isn't it? I myself was rather stunned when he informed me. But
it’s to be expected. The war took a great toll on him."
"So, who's taken over? They would have to know whom the potion is for." Just like Remus to cover up his fear with sensibility.
"Oh, he knows, Remus." Now how to put this delicately? He paused a moment, not for the sake of drama, but to wait till Remus had actually swallowed his sip of tea. "You remember Severus Snape, I suspect. He was in your year."
Despite his precaution, Remus choked on air and gasped for several seconds.
"I take it you remember, then."
"Who could forget?" came the muttered reply of the younger man. "And he's agreed to do
this? He's actually agreed?"
"He has. I suspect you remember why." Albus hated to bring that up. But it was necessary.
"I remember," Remus said wearily. "I take it Sniv… Severus is trying to protect himself,
then."
Albus raised an eyebrow, and Remus had the good grace to blush.
"And here I've sworn for thirteen years if I ever saw the man again I'd bury the
hatchet."
Albus found himself smiling. "Well, there’s no time like the present."
But Remus’ face fell even farther. "I can't do this, sir. I don't think I can face him.
It’s not just that I'm ashamed. James..."
"You’re worried about dishonoring his memory? Making peace isn't making Severus a bosom friend, you know."
Remus nodded. "I'm an adult, I can behave professionally."
"I would have thought nothing less of you." Now the question is, can Severus behave
professionally?
Albus examined the threadbare living room, waiting for a polite moment to pass.
"There’s something else. You'll not be the only one taking the potion."
Remus blinked then shuddered softly for a moment. Albus took the opportunity to continue. "He wasn't as fortunate as you were, Remus. His family has been… less then supportive. Like many other children, he’s been shipped off to private facilities."
"So he'll be a tad more self-conscious then the rest of us. I can imagine what they'd
have told him… I’ll keep an eye on him."
"Tread lightly “ he’s very attached to his father. Which reminds me, have I told you
James' boy is a third-year now?"
Edmund Hartwell walked up the stone stairs, letter in hand, looking only half as
bewildered as he felt. He had written the boy’s father reminding the esteemed
Professor Snape that his son was afflicted with Lycanthopy, and therefore not a fitting candidate for entry in to any communal institution, let alone one with other children. The response had been not from Snape, but from the school’s illustrious and "eccentric" Headmaster who spent half a page touting the wonders of the damn near experimental Wolfsbane potion, and a page and a half page insinuating that the three-hundred and fifty year old mission statement of The Thule Institute was cruelly old fashioned.
Edmund shook his head inwardly. Imposing discipline and order on their patients was
hardly torturing them (not that Dumbledore had outright accused them of it), nor was
making sure they understood their place in the world derogatory. He happened to care a
great deal about his charges, and he had devoted a lifetime to helping those with magical
afflictions overcome their natures. And the werewolves were no exception. True, the institute didn’t get many of them anymore, but Greyback would have less of a following if parents would send their children to Thule. This proposal to take Auster "Feingale" away from his familiar surroundings was more than simply poorly planned, it could be disastrous. Take a beast out of its habitat, and it would run wild.
Still, he could not argue with the parents’ decisions.
Edmund pulled his cloak tight around him; the Lycanthropic Wing was the oldest building in the place, and the corridors were often chilly. He turned off on the landing and walked down the hall till he came to room eight-four-eight and walked in.
The rooms themselves were warm and rather comfortable. An over-stuffed mattress on a
large wooden bed graced the back of the room, next to a small table containing Auster’s supper (which oddly the boy didn’t seem to have touched this evening) and a bookcase. The fireplace was as tall as he was. The place was hardly Azkaban, whatever the critics claimed.
"Good evening, Auster," he greeted the occupant, who sat on the bed bent over his ink and parchment.
"Good evening," he echoed absently, and Edmund frowned. Thule liked to cultivate good manners, but he wouldn’t scold Auster until he knew what had upset his attentiveness.
Just as he suspected. "Writing to your benefactor again?”
"I'm writing to my father , sir," the werewolf snarled belligerently. Edmund shook
his head.
"He's not your father anymore, Auster," he said gently. "Or rather, you're no longer his
son. If you really love Professor Snape you should let him get on with his life, and stop
tormenting him with the memory of the son he's lost."
He had never told the boy or any other patient what became of most of the letters that
they wrote back to their families. That would be cruel. Most families of course
sent their relatives here because they were unable to tend to them and their various
ailments. Or they were simply ashamed to have them around. A few families at least
accepted letters, and some even wrote back. The majority however asked never to be contacted, and some burned any correspondence they received. He suspected very strongly that the boy’s father was one of those.
"Especially now."
"Why now?"
"You've received a letter."
"Father!" He snapped the letter from Edmund's hands and tore it open. The letter of course was not from his Father but..."Hogwarts! He teaches there! I’ll see him..."
Edmund felt his stomach clench. This was a recipe for disaster. "Yes, but only in class."
"Class?"
"Yes. You are to be shipped off to the school. They have the Wolfsbane potion and the
Headmaster is certain that if you take the right precautions," he felt it necessary to add that part, "you won't infect the other students. And see to it that you don't, or the Ministry will come with a silver crossbow with your name on it."
Auster, however, didn’t seem to hear.
"Your benefactor," he said slowly “ the boy needed to understand this in no uncertain
terms, "wants you to keep your distance. You’re not to seek him out or use anything but
your mother’s surname."
"But I’ll be able to see him?"
Edmund sighed. "Yes, you will. But remember what I told you. It’s cruel to approach him, and selfish. These are urges you must blot out at all costs."
"Yes, Healer Hartwell." But Edmund could tell he wasn't really listening. Worse, there was a dangerous light in the boy’s eyes.
"I’ll do anything."