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The Long Road	By : SinisterMe Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Snape/Remus Views: 63598 -:- Recommendations : 3 -:- Currently Reading : 18
Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the Harry Potter world, which is trademarked by J. K. Rowling. This story is purely for entertainment purposes, no money is being made from it.

Chapter List
- 18
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Down in the lab, Severus got started immediately, his hands working almost independently of his brain. His thoughts were still on the time he’d spent with Lupin earlier.
There seemed to be a great dichotomy within Remus; this was to be expected and Severus couldn’t say that he was surprised by it; but how to handle it? On one hand he expected Severus to hate him and to take everything he wanted viciously; on the other hand he seemed starved for physical contact, desperate for a kind word. With the right kind of encouragement and careful treatment, Remus would be able to flourish, eventually.
But that was the real thing in question: was he capable of consistently giving that kind of encouragement and treatment? Snape had no idea, although he hoped he had it in him. That marked some progress at least; years ago even that faint hope would have been out of the question. His miserable heart wouldn’t even have opened to the idea.
When he had first joined Voldemort, his thirst for power and Tom’s approval knew no end. He would dabble in any magic; make any sacrifice, in order to accumulate more of it. There was almost no end to the evils he had committed and witnessed. His potions alone had sent uncountable people to agonizing deaths when he was a Death Eater; and his hands had done the same. All of that hatred and rage and those people groveling at his feet had certainly felt empowering at the time. Seeing the error of his ways had taken years; but he did see it eventually, that there was no power, no grandeur or strength in what they were doing.
The first inkling came a few years before the first fall of Voldemort. He didn’t think about it often, but now he found his mind going over and over the memory while his hands worked on the potion. He cast a bubble head charm almost without realizing it.
There had been three of them summoned to interrogate an older man who’d been found to be harboring a family of deserters. Thomas Penrose, his wife Maria and their ten year old son had fled shortly after the adults had taken the mark; their reasons were unknown, but it was believed that he was selling information to the Ministry and knew that someone was onto him. At the time, Severus had thought the man a fool to think he could stand in front of their Lord and get away with lying to his face.
The man they were to question was a Muggle from a small town just outside London. Severus had always wondered how the Penrose family had come into contact with him, but the story was never forthcoming.
Another group had been summoned the night before to apprehend the Penrose family; they had gotten news of them from some source of Pettigrew’s. The group had raided this man’s house and found nothing but traces of the Penrose family; a couple of gold Galleons as well as the signature of their apparition trail, which led to nothing but a series of dead ends. Rather than returning empty handed to their Lord, the Death Eater’s took the Muggle back with them.
Severus had been one of the three called in to gather any information possible about the whereabouts of the Penroses. By the time he was called on site, the other two, Rosier and Lucius had already gotten started.
He had stood unnoticed in the doorway, watching. They had the man in magical restraints, his hands and feet bound together cruelly; Rosier was just hauling him upright after a round of Cruciatus from Malfoy.
“Ah, Severus,” Lucius drawled. “So good of you to join us; Evan here was worried you were going to miss all the fun.”
“I came as soon as I was able,” he told them, irritated. Of course they would chide him for being ‘late’, when he was called long after they were.
“Of course you did,” Malfoy placated in that saccharine voice he hated so.
“We’re almost ready for you to have a go at him,” Evan Rosier said, walking around the man and striking him once in the face with a closed fist, knocking his head back with a sickening crack. Severus would recognize that sound anywhere, having heard it so many times from inside his own head; Rosier had broken his nose. Blood poured down his face; the man spluttered and coughed, trying not to choke on it.
“You ready to tell us where Thomas is? Our associate Snape here will just reach in and yank it out of your head anyway, but you can save yourself a lot of distress by just telling us.” Rosier always had always valued the stick over the carrot.
The man spat a mouthful of blood and what appeared to be a tooth off to the side, a respectful distance from Rosier’s foot. “I’ll tell you nothing about that man and his family; they’re good people.”
“’Good people’, he says,” Rosier mocked, looking over at Severus and Malfoy. “Thomas Penrose wouldn’t know ‘good people’ if they walked up and bashed him in the head. Which they just might if they could only find the son of a bitch.” Evan leered at him, “Until then I guess we’ll just have to take all our anger out on you!”
“He always did like making a show,” Lucius said under his breath, rolling his eyes dramatically so Severus would be sure to see his disdain.
However, Snape was paying little attention to Lucius even by his usual standards. His eyes were on the prisoner. Although this man was bound and bleeding, his back was straight and he met Evan’s eye with no hesitation. Muscles in his face and arms were jumping at random, a definite sign of a few long bouts of Crucio. If that wasn’t enough of an indication there was a pile of vomit on the floor a short distance away.
The man shook his head slowly. “I pity you, son. Is there an ounce of love in you for anything other than yourself?”
Evan’s face twisted in rage. He lashed out at the older man’s face again with a snarl that could only be described as animalistic, hitting him over and over as fast and as hard as he was able.
“If you beat him to death I won’t be able to get anything out of his mind, you realize,” Severus said lazily.
“Still pity me now, you sack of shit?” Rosier asked in a lethal voice.
The man’s head bobbed back and forth like his neck might not be strong enough to support it. He levelled his stare at Evan. “Even more,” he slurred.
Rosier wound up to hit him again, but Severus strode forward and grabbed his arm. “Enough, you fool,” he’d said, hauling the younger man away from their prisoner. “He’s a bloody Muggle; if I can’t get into his head by this point, you may as well take me out back and Avada me.”
“Don’t tempt me, Snape,” Rosier blustered.
“Get him out of here, Lucius,” Severus said in a longsuffering voice.
“Why, you want a little alone time with him, you dirty poof?” Rosier mocked, making a crude jerking motion with his hips.
“No, I just don’t think I can concentrate with your goddamn stench filling up the place. Go home and take a cold shower.”
“Like you’d know anything about the inside of a shower, you greasy bastard.”
“Lucius, either you get him out of here and I do what I came to do; or I kill him and then I do what I came to do; it really doesn’t matter to me.”
“Sod it all,” Malfoy muttered. “Come on Evan, let’s get out of here before Snape makes all of the water in your body boil; I’ve seen him do it before like it was the most natural thing in the world. Just keep pissing him off and maybe he’ll let you see it up close.”
Rosier gave Severus a dirty look and followed Lucius to the door.
“I’ll be back later to see what you’ve found,” Malfoy said, dragging Rosier from the room by his elbow.
Snape made a noncommittal sound and went nearer to the bound prisoner who was now sitting close to upright on a rickety chair. He crouched in front of him, taking in his injuries. Here was a man who was to their knowledge, not a part of the magical world at all, more than likely scared out of his wits and he was meeting Snape’s eye. Wicked bruises were starting to form across his face and neck; if he managed to live long enough, he’d have two black eyes that would swell quite spectacularly.
Severus knew what he was called to do; he had been highly skilled with Legilimency even then. Riddle had often called him to pry into the minds of people he wanted information from but deemed unworthy to come into contact with his own consciousness in such a fashion. It could be brutal; torture to wear them down, then he would try to find something useful, if he couldn’t then another round of suffering was in order, and he would try again.
This man would be no challenge. As a non-magical person he would have no defenses against such intrusions. Afterwards he would be killed, whether something had been found or not. If the man was lucky, he’d get the Killing Curse. Lucius had that bored look about him and Rosier was spitting mad, so by his calculations this man wouldn’t be so fortunate.
He set his satchel on the floor near him. “How long have you been here?” he asked abruptly.
The man stared back at him with glassy eyes. “Two days?” It was more of a question than an answer.
Severus reached into his pack and pulled out a skin of water, unscrewing the cap and holding the opening to the man’s cracked lips. “Drink slowly.” He tipped the bottle three or four times in short durations.
“Thank you, son,” the man rasped, looking at Severus with an uncomfortably discerning eye. “You’re not the same as the other two.”
“Trying to befriend me will get you nowhere. I’m about to enter your mind using magic; you do believe in magic at this point, don’t you Mister-?”
“Yarwerth, Marius Yarwerth. I think I can admit that it’s distinctly possible at this point.” Blood was dripping from his nose; he was trying to speak clearly though he’d just received what was likely the beating of his life.
“Well, Mister Yarwerth; I’m about to enter your mind with magic, whether you believe in it or not. You’ve been here for two days by your own estimation and I’m sure my associates in the other room weren’t serving you beverages all day long. Thirst is a need; it can be all encompassing in a person’s thoughts. By giving you something to drink I am making things easier only for myself. I won’t have to fight past those thoughts to get to the ones I need.”
“Call it what you must,” the man barked in laughter, exposing a set of chipped and broken teeth, stained red with his own blood.
Severus ignored the jibe. “Here I go, Mister Yarwerth,” he cautioned. “Legilimens.”
He must have been in that man’s head for hours, looking at anything and everything that might indicate he knew or even had a wild guess as to where Thomas Penrose or his family had fled to. He found nothing. What he did see what that this man had taken in a family of complete strangers; fed them and clothed them, gave them somewhere to sleep. He asked for nothing. They had left after a couple of days’ worth of rest, leaving in the middle of the night without so much as a word, three Galleons left lying on the kitchen table.
Severus pulled back tiredly; it was difficult to stay in a person’s mind for so long without resting. Back then his skill level was nowhere near what it was currently.
He found Malfoy leaning against the wall by the door, “You’re finally done in there?”
“Yes,” Severus almost nodded but was overcome with a wave of dizziness. “He knows nothing.”
“Nothing,” Lucius repeated.
“Are you deaf or stupid? The man knows nothing of the location of Penrose or his family.”
“Well it’s a good thing you’re going to tell that to our Lord; that way he can take it out of your ass. I’m all for keeping him under the Cruciatus long enough that he’ll make something up.”
“It’s decided, you’re stupid,” Severus sneered. “What a wonderful plan, Lucius. Then, when that information turns out to be false and our master decides to peer into our skulls to see what really happened, we’re both executed for lying to his face instead of just reprimanded for being incompetent. Why didn’t I think of that? I’ll tell him; if you’re such a coward, just go home.”
“Bah! Just kill him and be done with it then, if I have to take the punishment with you then you have to do the dirty work,” Lucius said.
Severus looked into the man’s eyes momentarily, fingering the handle of his wand. He would die, either way; at least he would have the chance to make it swift if he made the kill himself.
“Well, any last words?” He had drawled, bringing his wand up.
Marius continued looking into his eyes. “I forgive you.”
Snape’s mouth dropped open; Malfoy cackled across the room. “Oh good, now you can sleep at night, Snape.”
Severus wished he could do anything, but he couldn’t speak, he couldn’t move.
“Sometime before I get old would be nice,” Lucius said, impatient now that he was over his fit of hysterics.
Severus swallowed, still looking at Marius, who showed no outward signs of hatred.
“Oh for the love of-” Lucius pushed himself off the wall and took three strides quickly forward.“Avada Kedavra,” he said, pointing his wand straight at the old man. Marius Yarwerth fell over dead, sprawling gracelessly on the ground by Malfoy’s finely tailored boots.
“I have to do everything around here, can you tell me why that is?” Lucius snapped peevishly.
Severus didn’t remember much after that until Riddle was exacting his vengeance on them. It hadn’t mattered what had been done to him that night, he felt like he deserved it all and more.
How could that man sit there and face death at the hand of his torturers, and say that he forgave them? No one had forgiven him just about anything in his life, yet that man forgave him his murder and the rape of his mind. Marius Yarwerth had all of the power in that moment; he himself had had none, only the illusion of it. He thought back through his time in the session; the man had that same power over Rosier also. How was that possible?
It had taken him ages to puzzle through it; he still wasn’t sure he had it one hundred per cent at this present moment in time. Before that day, Severus would have said that forgiving someone was a weak thing to do. He would have said that power came from rubbing a person’s face in something, lording it over them and manipulating them as much as possible. He would have said that power meant to be in absolute control; but he had witnessed with his own eyes that the opposite was in fact true. They had all of the control and somehow Mr. Yarwerth was the one with all the power.
He had made decisions then, began looking for the truth in secret, scouring literature for other possible answers. He had also done something that he hadn’t done since he was a child, he looked inside of himself for something other than rage and resentment; it was startling how long it took for him to find something, anything that wasn’t tainted with those emotions.
When he did, it came in the most obvious yet unexpected of forms. Lily Potter, nee Evans. Of course their friendship had come to an end years ago, what with the complications of their teenage years and his own acidic tongue. But when he thought back far enough, which he usually avoided doing at all costs, he called to mind a red headed young girl he would meet in the park, the only person he’d met at that point who talked to him like he was a real person. They had discovered their magic together. She had been his friend and he had been hers. He couldn’t really have said that about anyone else in his life at that point. Excluding Albus, he couldn’t say it now.
James Potter had ruined it, of course; and that mental midget, Sirius Black, to a lesser degree. They all thought he was in love with her, or worse. Maybe love was an appropriate word for it, he wasn’t sure. If it was, it wasn’t the sort of thing everyone had in mind. She was beautiful and exuded light, she was wickedly funny and so bloody headstrong it made his mind reel; she was all of these things and yet she chose to spend her time with him. No one was more confused about it than he had been himself.
He had decided to try something; he would think about her every day, possibly even work up the courage to write her a letter and apologize one last time for that scene by the lake. Of course he hadn’t meant what he’d said, but when one has had their ass exposed to all of one’s peers while hanging upside down without a single shred of dignity… well things tended to get a little out of control.
Later, when he’d delivered the Prophesy to Voldemort, he had thought nothing of it, putting little faith into that kind of magic. Upon finding out that Riddle was going after the Potters based on its contents, he was devastated. He’d begged Tom for their lives, for hers above all; he couldn’t live with himself if he was responsible for her death. His Lord had made no such allowance unless Lily would step aside and allow him to kill her child.
Knowing her well enough to have no doubt that she would never in a million years allow such a thing, he had also gone to Albus Dumbledore; confessing everything. He had expected Azkabaan or if he was terribly unlucky they’d feed what was left of his soul to a Dementor once they had made use of the contents of his head. Much to his surprise, Albus had somehow forgiven him. He had set his forehead to the carpet of the old man’s feet and poured out all the evils of his life. Albus had just looked down at him sadly and extended his gnarled hand to help him up from the floor where he knelt.In that moment (and every moment after that) he had all of the control; Severus witnessed again the absolute power of forgiveness.
They had talked all through the night; Severus had told him everything he could think of that might help them fight the Dark Lord. Truth be told, he was tired of the brutality, death would almost have been a reprieve from his confusion and above all his guilt. Albus had pushed him onwards, had asked him to use his life to the fullest. As a spy into the inner workings of the Death Eaters, he may save more lives than either of them dared to hope. He may very well gain the possibility of redemption for his soul.
Brokenly, he had agreed. He would have agreed to anything Albus had wanted that night. He’d gone back at his next summons and done exactly what was expected of him, but this time he was reporting anything of worth to Albus.
Fear followed him constantly. He knew in excruciating detail what would be coming to him if Riddle ever even suspected he wasn’t faithful. He took precaution after precaution, taking paranoia to the next level and then further. He put up his mental shield and didn’t take it down; fortifying it daily to protect against intrusion and to keep control of himself no matter what he was forced to see or do to keep his cover, to get just one more shred of information.
He’d been there, that night at Frank and Alice’s. They were hated almost above all other Aurors; they were dedicated and diligent, almost always finding their person. They had been responsible for the jailing of many loyal Death Eaters and the painful and humiliating interrogation of innumerable others. They were brutal, taking every possible advantage to wring information and confessions out of their prisoners.
The four of them had been sent to relay the most unmistakable of messages; Frank and Alice would be executed in their own home for what they had done, but not before some fun was had.
Bella and Rudolphus had been there, as well as Nott and himself. Taken by surprise, the couple had fallen rather more easily than their reputations would have indicated. Things had gotten out of control in a hurry; Bella was casting curses in rapid succession even though the Aurors were already bound. Severus had reminded her of what they were actually there for when she set the child under Crucio in order to get to Alice. The curse had lasted maybe a minute before he could interfere, but seeing Neville years later as his student, Severus couldn’t help but wonder it permanent damage had been done to his magical core. The sound that babe had made still made his blood run cold when he thought about it.
He’d picked the child from off the floor where Bella had placed him, taking the screaming baby in his arms, moving quietly away from the other three. He had cast a calming charm and silencing spell over the child so he wouldn’t anger the others. It had taken a long time to settle him, but Severus wouldn’t forget his small hand curling around the front of his robe as he finally drifted off, his ears magically deafened to the tortured screams of his parents.
Frank and Alice had been tormented for hours and hours before anyone spoke of actually doing the deed and striking them dead. Just as they were deciding whether or not their fun was over, Aurors burst in, apparating through the provisional wards they had set up.
It had been pure chaos, spells flying everywhere; nothing was safe, the living room was destroyed in the commotion. Severus had found a sheltered place near the fighting, laid baby Neville onto the floor still wrapped in the thick blanked he’d been found sleeping in. He covered the boy with a ward so strong the entire house could have fallen on him and he wouldn’t have had so much as a scratch then removed the silencing spell so he could easily be found. Only after that had he apparated out after the others.
The time in between that and Pettigrew’s betrayal of the Potters was mostly a blur for Severus. He’d delivered any information to Albus that he thought was relevant and wouldn’t get him killed. Upon hearing of the Dark Mark was emblazoned above Godric’s Hollow, something in him had died. He’d known instantly; radiant pain flared through his own Mark as Riddle was disembodied by an infant and the strength of Lily’s love.
If Albus hadn’t vouched for him at the first set of trials, there was no doubt in Snape’s mind that he would still be rotting in Azkaban at this very moment. Dumbledore had laid everything on the line for him, pulled in favors and given testimony upon testimony declaring that Severus had been his man long before the end of Voldemort and that without his information, many more innocent people would be dead.
On some level, Snape had realized it to be true even at the time. But all he could think about was the people he hadn’t been able to save; the people he had killed. Seeing the taught and sullen faces of their loved ones peering hatefully at him from the crowd at his trial had been almost more than he could take.
In the end it was just enough to get him off without charge. Albus had employed him at the school straight away; still, it was a gilded cage compared to the alternative. He worked for reduced pay and was more than overqualified for the position. He couldn’t have denied the post even if he’d wanted to. He’d lived almost peacefully there for years before Riddle reared his ugly head again and they were all drawn into another war.
Lily; she’d set all of this in motion for him and she probably had never even had a clue. Now her forgiveness wasn’t possible; instead of any of that he had been responsible for her death, the death of her husband and the miserable childhood of her son. If she stood before him today, nothing he would be able to say would rightfully garner her forgiveness.
Severus had done what he could to keep her boy alive, but so much of that had been out of his hands. He’d been hard on him yes, but he had done everything in his power to make sure that child had survived his years at Hogwarts intact. The hardest part had been having Potter continuously within arm’s reach and having to come up with seven years’ worth of reasons, excuses and bald faced lies as to why he was unable to deliver him to Voldemort dead or alive. Every time he failed to come up with something plausible, he had suffered the consequences; this was more often than not. It had been necessary and he had done it.
Now, here he was brewing potions for Remus and Teddy Lupin, who, despite any intentions he may have were ultimately his property. For what was left of his soul, for Lily and for Albus he would do anything necessary to do what was right by them, or as close as he could get, situation permitting.
Looking around, he realized he was standing over the Wolfsbane potion, dripping stirring rod in his hands. The second phase was complete; how long he had been standing here was anyone’s guess. It was a dangerous way to brew, lost in your own thoughts. At least the mixture was the right colour and consistency; everything was as it should be. He wouldn’t need to begin the next phase until sometime just before lunch. He set the usual alarm and vented the lab one last time before heading upstairs, annulling his bubble head charm as he reached the kitchen.
It was earlier than he thought it would be, the very first rays of sunrise were seen in the distance, but it would be dark for some time yet. Severus headed straight off to have a shower; he would manage to sleep a few hours before breakfast, if he was fortunate. It took him minutes to rinse off, washing his hair, anything to get any traces of the potion or its components off his person. The last thing he needed to do was accidentally poison one of his houseguests.
He returned to his chambers, slipped into his sleeping bottoms and climbed cautiously into bed, not wanting to startle Lupin into waking. Remus was sleeping on his side, facing Severus; he looked totally peaceful. Snape almost would have believed it if he hadn’t actually known better.
Severus knew that soon he would have to disclose the painful facts of the last months of the war to the other man. It would need to be before the ceremony, with enough time for Remus to process the information. He had already ordered the appropriate editions of the Prophet and corresponding dictations from the trials. He would allow Remus to decide for himself before attempting to explain or justify any of his actions.
He felt that to hold anything back would be allowing Lupin to have a false idea of him. He wanted the man to understand that he was not about to treat him in the same fashion as Macnair had, but also that he was still miles short of being an actually decent person. What you saw was what you got with him, each thing uglier than the last.
Just when he was thinking that there would be little chance of sleeping because his mind was so busy, he felt the mattress shift. He paused and waited to see what Lupin would do.
The other man came out of a deep sleep but didn’t completely wake, Severus could tell by his breathing, the way he sighed as he rolled closer. Remus curled his body slowly around his, moving so near that his relaxed exhales ruffled the hairs on Snape’s neck.
Severus wondered how they were going to carry this whole thing forward, what could all be done to make this situation tolerable for him. If Lupin wanted to, after reading the papers and knowing all of the facts, he would need to find someone to take his place as their master. Once Remus had all of the information on the things he had done, to whom and in what manner, Snape wouldn’t blame him one bit if the other man couldn’t stand the thought of spending the remainder of his life bound to him; a murderer. Severus wasn’t sure he could bear the thought himself some days; but for him to escape himself would require more permanent ends than outsmarting a will and some Ministry officials.
He believed that he could sell them, after Remus’ bonding, if he had to. The question would be, where would they go? It would have to be decided beforehand, Severus would transfer enough of Albus’ gold into their vault so that there would be no possibility of someone outbidding them. The rest he would give to them later, for the purposes of meeting the Lupin’s needs after they took ownership. Of course the bonding would have to be completes first; he would need full control over both of them before they could even think about doing something like that and succeeding.
He would begin searching for a way to change the nature of Remus’ bond upon sale or the transference of ownership. Walden wasn’t all that bright and he was a cheap son of a bitch at the best of times; Severus was sure he either worked out the legalities of his will himself or had underpaid some hack to do it for him. Either way, Severus hoped a loophole could be found regarding their sale where he could not find one for his ownership.
Snape discovered an odd emotion clutching at his chest when he thought of never seeing Teddy again. It hadn’t been long, but that child had managed to endear himself to Severus in record time. The only child he’d ever had this kind of emotion for had been Draco, and he’d been there with Lucius when he’d been born, watched him grow from a questionable young man into a surprisingly responsible adult.
He would make sure that if any of that were to happen, they would find someone who would teach Teddy to be confident and kind. Hell, anyone would probably do a better job of that than he himself would; what did he know about either of those things?
As if to ward off these kinds of thoughts, Remus threw an arm over him and let out a loud snore, fidgeting in sleep as he tried to make himself more comfortable. The lycanthrope’s fingers coiled softly around his wrist, his thighs curling behind Severus’.
Snape fought the urge to laugh at the insanity of it all. He couldn’t say that he’d ever been spooned before in his life, preferring not to linger with any lovers he’s chosen to take over the years. Deciding that no matter what he came up with tonight, his plans would most likely be foiled with the morning; he’d never had any control over his life and he wasn’t likely to come across some now. He closed his eyes, determined to rest even if he couldn’t actually sleep.
A/N: Sorry for the delay. I really struggled with this chapter for some reason; hope it’s coherent and not too stale or too confusing with all of the memories. Thank you for ratings and reviews, they fuel my fingers! Please let me know if you’re still reading! I love to hear your thoughts, wherever they are!
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The Long Road