Melancolialunar​:

@madeyed-andmoody​

June 23rd, 1984.

Severus strode through the halls of the Prewett estate at a brisk clip, the silence of the early morning interrupted by the shuffle of early risers and birdsong. 

They’ve spent the last three days since the Order meeting weaving through their circle of Death Eaters, known and suspected, trying to find as much as they can about the attack on muggleborn children in time to prepare for the mission. Their situation was not ideal. The Death Eaters continued to make the first move and the Order continued to scramble to keep up. Something’s got to change, Severus thought, but it was an old and worn out thought, first born by the muddy river at cokeworth, echoed a second time between the old bookshelves of the Hogwarts library, and again years into their allegiance to the Dark Lord when they had been fully disillusioned with the lies and promises. 

In all fairness to the thought, change did follow it’s every iteration. This will not be an exception.

They pushed the doors to the dining room open and their eyes fell upon the man they came here to see. ‘ Moody, ’ They greeted with a nod, walking into the room and letting the door swing shut behind them. They pulled out a small vial of silver mist from an inner pocket as they approached. ‘ I’ve got something to report. ’

@asphodelroot

Early January, 1984. Spinner’s End.

The air was damp with the January rain, pouring over the streets of Cokeworth in relentless sheets. The windows of the old house were shut and sealed, the four walls wrapped in wards and heating spells. Brick and mortar didn’t hold magic the way old stone or pine wood did, and so the cold seeped through the cracks as it pleased, slow and unbothered.

When Severus claimed this house after his father’s passing, he’d done so with a bitter heart. He resented needing anything from his father, in life or in death, but by then he was tired of the bare room above the apothecary and had grown wise to the need for distance, for a space beyond the prying eyes of his Master. Thus it came to be that only three years after his dignified march out of Spinner’s End, bursting with pride and purpose, Severus found himself slipping back into his old home, silent as shame, even as the only witness to this humiliation was himself.

And now Lily, too. Who once was witness to all that Severus is and was and could be, thus it seemed fitting that she’d reclaim that role upon re-entering his life.

He set the pot of lentil soup upon the wooden coffee table, along the plate of cut bread, and poured a bowl for himself and another for Lily. They’d spent all morning and afternoon in the library beneath the house, pouring over books and spells as the row of cauldrons sizzled and rolled over a low fire. The scent of hellebore and rosemary drifted up to the living room. The fire crackled on in the quiet room.

He sat on the couch beside her and brought his knees up to his chest. He shook pepper onto his bowl and then lifted the shaker to his friend. ‘ Pepper? Or salt? ’

Severus flinched at the flagrant use of the Dark Lord’s name from little old Potter, no less — who do you think you are?! An old thought that sprang to the top of his mind every time he had the opportunity to be in the arrogant boy’s presence for more than a moment, and thus all the more easily dismissed for it’s recurrence. Potter held himself above the rest, as always, but from the way he carried himself it seemed to Severus he was merely keeping his head above water.

Severus tipped his chin up as he followed Potter to the living room. Shoulders squared and back straight. ‘ Equality is unattainable in the wizarding world. The Dark Lord provides opportunity, which is more than what the Order could say for itself. ’ Severus was a practical man and he took the practical path — in most things. It all fell through in the end for him but being a Death Eater was, and still is, the practical choice.

Severus watched Potter move like every shift pained him. He took mental notes of his observations. He was silent for a long moment after the question was posed, before he sat down on the armchair besides Potter, legs crossed at the knee, and set his bag of brews by his feet. ‘ The process will be a month long, at least, ’ he started. ‘ I’ll administer a potion and spell three times a week. 12 to 24 sessions in total — after that, everything that could be fixed has been fixed. ’ He tilted his head to the side slightly. ‘ Once we begin there can be no delays or breaks. This is a delicate process. The margin for error is very slim. ’

wrongdeor​:

Severus didn’t miss the near slip-up, but far from surprised he was bracing for it. He was ready for this to be the most unpleasant encounter Potter could make, and from experience that was a rather tall order but entirely achievable for the twat he knew — what was unexpected instead was the correction. Severus, graciously, pretended not to notice. ‘ Potter, ’ he said in a clipped tone. He nodded in return. 

He stepped inside, paused in the entrance hall and turned to look at his enemy patient. With a slanted brow, Severus said, ‘ Surprised? War makes for strange bedfellows, Potter. A halfblood with a muggle name would have more to lose and to gain in this war than a pureblood boy with a trust fund. And what I want hardly overlaps with what I need to do. ’ He jerked his chin towards the injured wrist. ‘ You need that hand to fight, and we need you on the field. Ergo, here I am. ’ He lifted a shoulder, the bag shifting with the movement, vials jostling beneath the fabric. He didn’t respond to whether or not he can cure him. That remained to be seen.

Severus looked at the wizard for a moment. Head tilted slightly to the side. ‘ And I never liked unequal fights, if you recall. ’ That was you, Potter. He nodded down the hall, towards what he believed was the living room. ‘ Lead the way. ’

.

The second Severus opened his mouth, James felt like breaking. That had happened a lot since he’d gotten out of the dungeons and Lily had left him. Little things would make him want to throw something or sob or a mixture of both - like seeing the mug she used to use in his cupboards or watching Garnet snub him as though the cat never even realized he’d been gone. Or, like the other day, when Remus had been visiting him at Mungo’s and said Lily’s name and James had told him to watch his damn mouth as though he’d been called something crude.

But all Severus needed to do was talk in that slow, annoying drawl of his and remind James of all the reasons Lily had broken up with him without even doing it on purpose. Or, knowing Snape, maybe it was on purpose and the wix was just so fucking smart that it hardly sounded that way. “Convenient timing to realize that about yourself,” James said with a new dullness to his voice that hadn’t been there before. His head suddenly felt stuffy like he was holding back tears, but he just ground down his back teeth until it went away. Maybe later he’d curl up with Sirius and let himself cry again, but there was no fucking way Severus Snape would see how much this - Lily, Severus, their friendship, everything - was affecting him.

“Voldemort promotes equality in your little circle of friends?” James quipped back with his eyebrows raised, a mean smirk on his face, using the name intentionally to try and get a rise. He turned and led the way to his living room where a plush maroon couch and two armchairs sat around a coffee table. There was a multi-patterned blanket on the back of one of the chairs. It felt warm in here, despite James’ lack of it.

He gingerly sat on the couch, perching himself forward because leaning back would’ve caused his joints to ache and pain to hiss from between his teeth. Gently, he lowered his wrist to rest against his knee. “So, what kind of process are we lookin’ at?” Severus could kill him, if he wanted to. It would be easy. James would do whatever he was told and, if he were about to be poisoned, he’d have no clue until it happened. 

@melancolialunar​

June 14th, 1984. The Lupins’ household.

Severus stepped over the cobblestoned garden path and up the steps in a straight, uninterrupted walk, but as they stopped before the closed door, they hesitated. They were keenly interested to see how the adjusted Wolfsbane fared against the eclipse, and that was what brought them here in the first place, but before they rang the bell to Lupin’s mother’s house, they felt a rush of nerves at what awaited them and what to expect from this visit. The last time they dealt with an eclipse, Severus didn’t see Lupin for nearly a week. And the wolfsbane was completely ineffective then. Now — Severus wanted to see for themself. 

They shifted the strap of the work bag against their shoulder, adjusted the pot of hot soup in their hands, took a deep breath that they let out slowly. They rang the doorbell, and waited. ‘ Good to see you’re still alive, ’ Severus greeted dryly. But not dishonestly. ‘ We have a lot of work to do, ’ they lifted the shoulder with the bag strap briefly, shifted their stance, and patted the lid of the steaming pot of chicken soup. Then declared their offering, ‘ I brought food. ’

asphodelroot​:

Sausage rolls and fries were not enough to forestall the shocked look of betrayal she gave him. That had been her cherry! She needed those cherries—did he have any idea what sort of battle she had endured to secure them? Of course not, because Lily hadn’t told him. And she usually didn’t make more than a token fuss about food theft; Severus always needed more feeding, and if it required letting him feel like he was getting away with something via theft for it to happen, so be it.

Her cherries had never been intended to fall victim to that policy, but after a moment of hurt scowling, Lily let it go and focused on savouring the sole cherry left for her, tucked in the corner of her mouth. She didn’t have many close friends to start, and was on the wrong side of the majority of them; no matter how sacred her cherry had been, she wasn’t going to lose Severus over it. Not tonight.        (Never again.)

Finally swallowing her cherry, she fished out a bit of ice to munch on instead. “We came together. He’s definitely got some bugbears behind the ears tonight,” she shared. “Snappish, grumpy, probably should have stayed home but even more bullheaded and stubborn than usual. I told him to avoid alcohol tonight—no idea if he’ll actually listen to that bit of advice.” Despite that grim debrief, Lily was willing to call tonight not a disaster thus far. Nothing broken, no one thrown across the room. Far from the bloodbath Lily hadn’t been expecting but hadn’t ruled out as a possibility. “Will you be tweaking the brew again, for tomorrow night? Maybe some hawthorn bark to help him stay calm.”

Severus blinked at her scowling for a few moments after she let it go, then pushed the plate of sausage rolls closer to her. He’d clearly misread the room. She was more upset than he realized.

‘ He’s always agitated before the full moon, ’ Severus said again, this time reassuringly. ‘ You should’ve seen him last month. Absolutely insufferable — still no violent outbursts. With me trying. He can keep it together for a few more hours. ’ Or else he wouldn’t have come at all tonight … hopefully. Severus was banking on the assumption that at least one of the four buffoons of his childhood had enough sense to stay home when they needed to. Especially if said buffoon had been dealing with the same pre-moon mood swings for as long as they could remember.

Which was, put like that, a rather tall order.

He looked at Black again, then said to Lily with a straight face: ‘ I could keep Black occupied for the rest of the night if you’d prefer. ’ He and Black going at each other would at least not be shocking. They’ve been practically exchanging friendship bracelets the last few months, it would just be setting the world back to rights, if nothing else.

He hummed. ‘ The problem’s not keeping him calm, it’s keeping him present. Mentally. I’ve modified the brew to keep him aware and in control through the eclipse. The calm will come with that. ’ He paused, casting his mind back to the multitudes of equations and ideas he went through to get to a result worth testing. ‘ It should work. ’ But they don’t know that. They won’t until they test it.

Severus blinked with a ‘who, me?’ look on their face. ‘ I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about, ’ said the cat that ate the canary. ‘ You must be exhausted. Being dead for 5 years will do that to you. ’ They were both products of Slytherin House, where privacy was only as respected as the protections around it. If Black wanted to keep his thoughts to himself, well, with due diligence he certainly could.

Severus conjured a desk chair (wheels, armrests, and all) that they dragged closer to the young man before they sat down, legs crossed at the knee, and leaned back. The air shifted palpably in the room, Severus was no longer interrogating a potential threat, they were catching up with an old acquaintance. A corner of their lips lifted at being called contrary, only a little too pleased with themself. ‘ Just twelve, ’ they said, ‘ for now. ’ If Severus dared to dream of what they would do after the war, it was this: make new spells. And potions, and wards, and artifacts. One day they might outweigh the violent magic they’ve written into the world.

If Severus was taken aback by Black’s following confession — and a confession is what it was, quiet and honest, however else Black chose to frame it later — they didn’t show it. Black had stumbled through epiphanies of his own since Severus had last seen him, not unlike the ones Severus had worked through themself to get here. ‘ What a surprise, ’ said Severus, ‘ look who had a change of heart, now. It’s only been 5 years, Black, what happened to you? ’

Severus listened intently as Black spoke. They watched him without blinking as the words sank in. They remained carefully impassive, face empty of all emotion.

I found something out. Something that could be fatal to someone I swore to serve.

For one ferocious moment Severus wanted to pin Black down and empty his mind of all knowledge and memory, comb through his thoughts with tedious care, and pluck it’s secrets out one by one until they found what they were looking for. The moment passed. Reckless, Severus thought. Unlike most of the people they dealt with, Black knew of their Legilimency. A delicate hand was needed.

Severus hummed. ‘ Better late than never, I suppose. Only a few hundred died since your great discovery, but I’m sure you’ll carry their deaths with dignity, and such, and all. ’ They waved a hand to encompass the such and the all. Guilt over strangers did not factor into this at all, Severus suspected. Something happened to someone who mattered to Black, or Black thought it did, or would. That was what sprang the young man from the grave, or else his secrets would’ve died with him. But that was a question for another day. ‘ What did you find? ’

wrongdeor​:

Severus held the other’s gaze as he spoke his name, looking for snippets of memory, a passing thought that would reveal them to be a pretender. There was no distance between the mind he looked into and the name Regulus Black. This was, at worst, someone who fully believed they were the dead Heir of the House of Black. At best —

Doubt, despite itself, dissipated rapidly once Regulus opened his big bloody mouth, and the most ridiculous taunts left his lips. Hm, yes. There he was, the impossible brat. Severus almost grinned, suddenly, but schooled his features back down to impassivity. His shoulders relaxed just a little. 

He raised an eyebrow. ‘ I got sick of being told what to do, ’ Severus said, ‘ and treachery sounded grand. A better question would be why not, really. ’ He waved a hand flippantly. ‘ It goes better with my nature, yes? Halfbloods and their shaky convictions, and all. I suppose your darling Bella was right about me all along. ’

He walked up to the littlest Black, arms crossed, a slight cant to his head. He intended to look menacing, but his guard was down, and his tone was more inquisitive than accusatory: ‘ You, on the other hand, heir to name and to fortune — how does this go with yours? ’ What are you doing here, Regulus?

*

“Oi,” Regulus asked, leaning forward on that couch he’d rather burn than sit on again, “are you in my head?” He looked at the other, scanning their shoulders, their mouth, their general now-lost tension. “You are, aren’t you? You seem very pleased with yourself there, Severus,” Regulus added with a scowl that was patently false in sincerity and transparent to the thing he might label joy beneath it. “Figures you’d go poking.”

Regulus’ head fell back onto the couch, eyes sliding shut against his will yet following it at the same time. The duality of conscious and unconscious desires playing out in that one simple movement. He’d been worried, before, but whatever Severus was here to do, he’d do it without alerting the entire damn estate to it. That was safety enough for Regulus to close his eyes. Not despite Severus, but because of Severus.

“You always were a contrary little bugger,” Regulus agreed. “It was never enough to make one spell, no you had to make, what? Eleven, twelve of the things?” Regulus sighed, rocking his head back and forth on the couch in the best approximation he could of a shake. “Bella did turn out to not be right about much,” Regulus said quietly, “and I don’t think she was right about that.” That was entirely too much honesty for this conversation. Regulus was going to blame the sleep-deprivation if it was brought up.

“Treachery is quite the lark though, I must admit that. Always something done in a flurry of springtime fancy like a Hufflepuff after a pastry. Knees knocking together with the sugar high and excitement of it all.” Regulus shook his head again, choosing honesty, blunt and brittle a tool though it was. “I went researching. Volunteered a friend for something I never should have. Nearly lost him and found more than I should have in those books.”

Cracking open one eye through its leaden weight, Regulus looked at Severus. “I found something out. Something that could be fatal to someone I swore to serve. I nearly died for it and didn’t bother sharing it until now.” That eye closed again. “Don’t go blabbing that around, not even to Evans. Especially not to Evans. Strictly need-to-know, that. Might interfere with my future ambitions if it gets out and then I’d really have to hex you with something you didn’t make up.”

melancolialunar​:

Muggle London did have a false sense of security to it, but unlike Severus, Remus found himself leaning into it, these days. He was the type of man to let himself indulge in the fantasy, even if just for a moment – sure, retreating back to reality ended up being a bucket of cold water, but he was nothing if not used to this sort of muted agony in his life. Perhaps there was something of self-penitence there too, letting himself pretend he could ever be just another bloke sitting at a coffee shop thinking about what he was going to have for lunch, before returning to the ice cold brutality of being a werewolf stuck in the middle of a war.

He watched his companion sit down, making themselves the spitting image of something comfortable, though Remus could imagine that there was some level of tension under their skin. There was no way Severus would trust him so blindly – and they were right, this was the whole point of this encounter.

“That’s exactly why I asked you to meet me, anyway. I mean– old time’s sake.” He echoed, hand idly moving over to wrap around his cup of cappuccino, even though he had no intention of having a sip from it now. It was just something for his hands to do, something he could focus his eyes on, as if the back and forth swirl of the warm liquid required his attention more than the person in front of him.

He cleared his throat, silently cursed the pregnant pause hanging in the air, before turning his eyes back up to Severus in the hopes of not looking like a total coward when he spoke next. “I want to apologise.”

Severus blinked silently for a long and still moment, then hummed curiously, head tilted back. The crackle of anger flared instantly, like a hot sun burst into furious existence deep in their belly. Their jaw tensed with the effort to keep themself contained. ‘ How unexpected, ’ they finally said, when the ringing in their ears settled down some. They leaned forward and picked up a scone in a careless manner, hummed again, elbows on the table, one hand under their chin, thoughtful. ‘ How very surprising, ’ they repeated. A beat of silence. ‘ You think I’ll poison you? Yes? With the wolfsbane? ’ It wasn’t an unappealing prospect. But it was more trouble than it was worth. Severus had long since entertained and discarded the idea, so Lupin’s concerns weren’t completely misplaced, at least. ‘ If that was my intention, Lupin, and this was your attempt to stop me, it was a useless one. And about a decade late, besides. ’ 

They waved the hand with the scone about with a flourish. ‘ But go on now, ’ they said. Their manner was flippant, but their whole focus was now hefted upon Lupin, the heavy unnamed pressure of being pinned by the eyes of a predator. There was no right answer to what Severus was asking. They watched for something to lunge at, and whatever Lupin said next, they would find it. ‘ Don’t let me stop you! What’ve you got to say for yourself? ’

elliotofvanity​:

Elliot should have come up with some excuse to, well, to excuse himself; should have retreated and sought Hestia or Wila or someone else who could give him more information; someone who could clarify that Severus Snape really was supposed to be here, with the Order, and why; someone else who had been here longer and could answer impossible questions like what the fucking fuck was Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy’s favorite fuck doing with the Order of the Phoenix? without making things too terribly awkward.

He should have mustered-up some polite nonsense phrase and left.

Instead, when the other wix demanded an explanation, Elliot blurted, “But you’re the Malfoys’ bed-toy,” too shocked to be anything but honest. “You are! Severus Snape. I’ve seen you at a dozen parties.“ He had seen Severus at school, too, but hadn’t paid the quiet, surly, solitary wix nearly as much attention as he had when seeing them waltzed around a ballroom on Lucius Malfoy’s elegant arm, or ensconced in a corner seat with Narcissa giggling gracefully in their ear, or being swept upstairs at the end of the evening by one or both of the fashionable blondes. At school, Severus had been—in their own way—something of a wallflower, too. In the Malfoys’ hands, they had been impossible not to notice.

To see them now…here…none of it made sense. “What are you doing here?”

The boy could’ve said ‘the Dark Lord sent me to kill you’ and it would’ve shocked Severus less. 

He laughed. He couldn’t help it. Bed-toy. He covered his face with his hand to hide his laughter but it was too late. ‘ Well aren’t you bold, ’ said Severus, the corners of his lips stretched in a mischievous smirk. Severus was attentive towards the rumors that sprang in his wake, specifically the ones that followed his appearances with Lucius or Narcissa (or both) and it was not entirely for pragmatic reasons that he did so. After all, the tales that followed him at every society event wouldn’t be half as tall without his own delighted efforts. And the Malfoys’ bed-toy was not only the least offensive but also the least inaccurate. 

People just didn’t usually say it to his face.

He stepped towards the boy, eyes gleaming with interest. ‘ Elliot Vanity, ’ said Severus, stopping right before him, sinking into his mind like a wide net onto dense water. Thoughts jumped to his hands like fish, eager to be caught. ‘ That’s who you are. The newest recruit. ’ He didn’t know what they were thinking, bringing in a pureblood society brat into the fold — didn’t they have enough of those lying about already? — but that was a discussion for later. He shoved the inventory paper at the boy’s chest. ‘ Here’s your first assignment: restock the cabinets, ’ Severus folded his arms and looked at Vanity expectantly. ‘ If you drop one, you’ll get kicked out of the Order. ’ He turned around and walked back towards his satchel of brews. He couldn’t help adding, with a flippant tone, ‘ and just so you know, they’re as much mine as I am theirs. ’ The bedroom was an equal opportunity playground.

@theoselwyn​

June 24th, 1984. Liverpool.

The wail of the amulets cut through the quiet afternoon like a sword. There was a split second of silence when the three of them exchanged looks, then — with a pop, Severus was on the other side of the house where Prewett and Selwyn were and where the signal was coming from.

Where’s Prewett, Severus thought, seeing the squadron of Death Eaters plow their way through the street, heedless of the attention they were getting from the gathering crowd. One of the masked figures stepped forward and sent a curse out flying towards a bystander — the muggle dropped on the spot and didn’t move. It didn’t take long for the crowd to descend into chaos, people running in every direction as the Death Eaters continued their march. 

There was no time to find Prewett. They jumped into the fray without a second thought.

Severus watched Moody drag his injured leg about like an empty sack, barking orders and checking on people and asking questions the moment he crossed the entrance. Then holding a bloody meeting with his leg hanging about rather awkwardly as it waited to be seen to. The only reason Severus didn’t drag the ridiculous man to the infirmary himself was because he was too busy to leave the infirmary —- well. No. Not so busy as that … but the thought of leaving the room when Lily was in the state she was in sent a chill down his spine, a feeling of such inevitable doom that he wouldn’t dare risk it. And so he didn’t.

But Moody slunk into the infirmary like a mouse into it’s trap. Before he could escape, Severus pounced. ‘ You’re fine when I say you’re fine, ’ Severus intoned, and waved his wand. The doors to the infirmary swung shut with an ominous click. He gestured towards the side door that led to a smaller room with the extra cot and armchair. ‘ Sit down, ’ he said. Gaze dropped deliberately towards Moody’s bad knee. ‘ That poor leg will thank you for it. ’

DOCTOR, DOCTOR

WHEN. june 25, super fucking early WHERE. prewett estate infirmary WHO. @wrongdeor

When Alastor and Gideon apparated back to headquarters, Moody was limping. He took one step, and then a second, and the pain that burned in his leg accompanied the throbbing in his head and the burning at his side quite nicely. They worked, one right along with the other, to make his body scream at him. He'd known he'd been hit, too, and he figured Gideon had seen at least the thing that'd hit him in the head. At the other man's urging he dragged his sorry carcass to the infirmary.

What he found was utter chaos, and Alastor nearly turned right back around and walked out again. He could fix his own bloody knee and his own bloody aches and pains. Evan was busy, Emmeline was too. Daisy was running about looking worried. There were too many people, and Moody drew himself inward, not wanting to be touched for fear it would spark more pain. If he did, he knew that he'd snap at someone about it. He never had been a good patient.

Moody had slunk half out of the room already before he was caught out, though, and he knew without looking who it was that'd done it. He felt, for what it was worth, like a young lad caught for trying to sneak out past curfew and wasn't that just off?

"'M fine. Don't need you or any of the others worryin' about my sorry arse," he said, voice gruff and low, holding himself with his shoulders drawn taut, favoring his left leg because the other was dragging a bit. "Can fix it myself. You've too many."