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The Long Road	By : SinisterMe Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Snape/Remus Views: 63607 -:- 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
- 49
- 50
- 51
***More disturbing content in this chapter, though not as much or as graphic as last time, in my opinion, anyway. Sorry and consider yourself warned!***

Remus woke the next morning feeling rested but uneasy. Then the events of the day before came crashing down upon him. He put on a robe and took a trip down the hall. Draco’s door was still closed and Teddy was a little lump under all of his blankets, so he went back to his room.
Deciding that he was well enough and that it had been too long, he ran himself a shallow bath and slowly climbed into it. Washing felt good, and the fact that he was able to do it all himself, from running the tub to getting out and toweling himself off without incident improved his mood slightly. He would use every opportunity to make himself more independent so that when Severus came back, he would be able to help him instead of the other way around.
Downstairs, he hadn’t been in the kitchen for more than thirty seconds before Fred appeared.
“Sir is wanting tea?” the elf asked.
“Coffee please, if you don’t mind,” Remus told him. He’d gotten rather used to drinking it every morning with Severus and found he didn’t want to change that even with him not around.
“Fred is not minding,” the elf scolded. He set about getting everything prepared.
“I’ll move these parchments out of the way,” Remus said to himself more than anything. He stacked everything off to the far side of the table, thanking Fred when he set a mug of steaming coffee in front of him.
Fred then set about preparing breakfast, scurrying about the kitchen and gathering what he needed. “You is working on something?” the elf asked astutely as he went, waving at all of the writing supplies.
“Yes,” Remus said, “we’re working on gathering backing from as many people as possible to try and bring Severus home before his fifteen days are up.”
“You is best moving in a hurry then,” Fred nodded. “There is being more?”
“Severus seems to think we can use this as a platform to help free the lycanthropes, if we go about it correctly.”
“Sir always was being too smart for his own good,” Fred said, shaking his head. “For some people, having too little brains is being the reason their lives is being so hard; for sir it was always being having too many. Fred is being very happy that you is looking out for him.”
“Fine job I’m doing so far,” Remus said, “he wouldn’t be in this mess if we hadn’t come here.”
“No,” Fred agreed, shrugging his thin shoulders, moving about the kitchen the entire time he spoke, “Sir would still be being up to his eyebrows in his own mess. Even if you is not bringing him home early, Fred knows sir will be very pleased to know that you was trying.”
“I suppose so,” Remus said, wondering how this odd conversation was making him feel better, but it was. “Most people won’t listen to a slave about freeing slaves, so Harry and Draco will have to do most of the legwork after we finish the letters.”
“Fred is sure that you is all being working very hard, but be keeping an eye on those two.” The elf paused. “They is hurting him?” The question took on an airy tone, but Fred’s shoulders were taut with tension.
Remus knew it wouldn’t do to lie to him. “Yes, terribly I’m afraid. I’m sure it will be all over this morning’s papers. There was quite a show at the Ministry yesterday.”
“We is best keeping them out of the little one’s sight,” the elf said. “He is being worried enough.”
“Have they arrived yet?” Remus asked nervously.
“They is still being on the counter. Sir is liking to read them if the mood is striking him. Fred usually couldn’t be caring about news so if sir doesn’t open them, they is usually going straight to the bin where they is belonging. If what you is saying is being true, they may not be making their way there as fast as they usually is this time. You is receiving quite a bit of post as well.”
Remus looked over to where the newspapers still sat on the counter, rolled up neatly with their twine still holding them in neat columns of paper and print. Beside them were three good-sized paper grocery bags, obviously full of something. As tempted as he was, Remus decided to wait for the boys to go through them – this was something they were doing together and he didn’t want to get ahead of himself.
“Do you want to know what they say? I could read them to you,” Remus offered, indicating the newspapers. If the thought of reading them privately turned his stomach, the notion of reading them aloud was even more unappealing. Still, he had to offer; Fred obviously cared very much about Severus and had as much or more of a right to be informed as the rest of them did.
“Fred can be reading them later, when everyone is already being done with them,” Fred told him, back stiff.
“Please don’t be offended by this but… You can read?” Remus asked. He hoped he wasn’t being ignorant, but he’d never encountered a house elf that had been able to do that, at least that he’d known of.
Fred stopped what he was doing for the first time in their conversation, turning to give Remus his complete attention. He said proudly, “Sir was making sure of it. Fred was telling him that it was being complete nonsense to be trying to teach a house elf to read, but he was insisting and insisting. After the last war was being done, Fred doesn’t think sir was knowing what to be doing with his free time. It was being a good experience for both of us,” he admitted.
Remus found himself impressed, both by Severus being open minded enough to attempt to teach a house elf to be literate, as well as by the fact that Fred had been intelligent and dedicated enough to learn. “That’s incredible, Fred.”
Fred sighed heavily and then said in a perfectly cultured English accent, the squeaky tone disappearing marginally from his voice, “Just because I choose not to talk like you does not mean that I can’t. I speak in the way that I was raised to, in the language my people use – not because I have to, but because it is who I am.”
Remus blinked in surprise, it was all that he could manage at first. “I’m sorry, Fred, I honestly didn’t mean anything by it.”
The elf smiled. “Fred is knowing,” he said, voice becoming its normal high pitched squeak. “But you should also be knowing that Fred is caring very much about sir. Fred will be helping in any way he is being able, if you would be having help from a house elf.”
“We would be more than grateful for anything you could do,” Remus smiled at him.
Fred smiled back. “The fact that people is not thinking Fred capable of much is being helpful to both sir and to Fred in the past,” he mentioned slyly. “Elves is being everywhere and Wizards like you is never seeing us, we is just being scenery; or maybe we is not? Who is to be knowing the answer to these things?”
Remus wasn’t sure if he should laugh or not, a small huff leaving his lips regardless. Leave it to Severus to keep the company of an elf as cunning and determined as the one standing before him.
“You amaze me, Fred,” he said honestly.
The elf just continued to smile, setting the table magically and bringing the food over by hand simultaneously.
“Sir taught Fred that he could be making people feel that,” Fred said. “That Fred could be doing anything he wanted and is not needing to punish himself because he is doing it.” The elf took a deep breath. “Please be leaving the papers on top of the ice box where the little one can’t be seeing them. Fred will be reading them later. When the three of you is having your next little meeting, do not be forgetting that Fred is here to help and if it is being needed, Fred has many helpful friends.”
He said it with a steely gaze that was very unfamiliar and almost comical on the face of an elf, yet still managed to give Remus the chills. “I won’t forget, Fred. I’ll mention it to Harry and Draco.”
Fred openly scoffed. “Forget it, be telling it to the stove and kettle instead - it is doing you more good.”
Remus did laugh this time. “They’re more capable than you think.”
“Fred is hoping so. The greenhouse is needing tending, be calling if you is needing anything.”
“You know I will. Thank you Fred, you’re wonderful.”
Fred shrugged. “If the little one is needing company, you is letting me know.”
“Of course,” Remus agreed as Fred disappeared soundlessly from the room.
Well that was more than interesting.

He was done with his breakfast and onto his second cup of coffee before Draco and Teddy came noisily down the stairs. They had time to dish up and chatter their way through about half of their plates before Harry showed up as well. He was in plainclothes, his hair its usual mess of tangled dark locks. He looked both refreshed and exhausted at the same time.
“Good morning, Harry,” Remus greeted. “Late night?”
Harry rolled his eyes, helping himself to a cup of coffee and plunking himself down at the table between Remus and Draco.
“Is it that obvious?” Harry grinned.
“I don’t notice a difference,” Draco threw in helpfully.
“Thanks,” Harry deadpanned. “I didn’t get out of here until later than expected,” he told Remus. “I went straight to Hermione’s. She grilled me into the unholy hours of the morning, but I think I have her filled in on everything that’s important and some things that aren’t. I did catch a few hours of uninterrupted sleep and a shower before coming over here, though.”
“And we all appreciate it,” Draco said, wrinkling his nose. Teddy giggled into his cup of milk.
Harry scowled at his old rival before seeming to notice the empty plate and place settings in front of him for the first time. He shrugged and dug in, serving and eating his breakfast so quickly it would even have made Ron’s head spin.
Draco finished his last bite, pushing his plate away in muted disgust, as if just watching Harry’s table manners had turned him off his food. He stood and collected the empty plates, rinsing them in the sink and stacking them at its side for washing later. He went back to the table and gestured to the food with one quirked eyebrow.
Harry blushed and shook his head, having at least enough etiquette not to speak with his mouth so obviously full of eggs.
Malfoy cleared the rest of the table, putting the uneaten food into the ice box before returning to his seat.
“So have we received any replies?” he asked Remus.
“Over by the papers,” Remus told him. Even as he said it, another owl flew through the open window above the sink and offered its leg to him. “Fred’s been collecting them for us all morning so far.”
Malfoy stood again and retrieved the bags. He set them on the table. “Anything else, while I’m up?” he asked sarcastically.
“More coffee please,” Harry said impertinently. Draco retrieved the pot, first filling Remus’ cup, then his own, before extending the pot in Harry’s direction with a sneer and a horrible imitation of a curtsey. By the look on Harry’s face he hadn’t expected anything but a rebuff, but he held his cup out anyway.
Remus pulled one of the bags closer to himself, smiling at the boy’s antics. He turned the bag around, seeing the words ‘with us’ penned on the side. He turned another one around and ‘undecided’ was written there. He turned the last one around and smiled. ‘Idiots’ was all it said. The penmanship was thin and spidery and heartbreakingly similar to Severus’ own script.
“You’ve sorted them already?” Harry asked. “How long have you been up?”
“Fred must have done this,” Remus told him, running his finger over one of the carefully marked letters.
“How?” Harry asked, pulling one of the letters out of the ‘Idiots’ box and noting the broken seal.
“He read them? How else?” Draco said, making a small face that indicated he thought Harry was the daftest person he’d ever met in his life.
“I didn’t know elves could read,” Harry admitted, colouring for the second time that morning, clearly embarrassed.
“Most can’t,” Draco told him, “but just because they’re uneducated doesn’t mean they’re unintelligent. They can use magic to read and create simple lists, and for most people, that’s more than enough.”
“But not for Severus,” Remus said, amused.
“No, not for Severus,” Draco smiled. “I think he did it just to piss in the pumpkin juice of those stuffed shirts at the Academy. They’ve been pestering him to take an apprentice for years, trying to spin it off as being beneficial to him to have someone help him with the basics. So what does he do to shut them up? He teaches his elf to read and gets him to help instead!” Draco was laughing outright now.
Remus was chuckling; Harry too, seemingly in spite of himself. “That does sound like Snape,” he said wryly.
Draco wiped at one eye, “Damn near kills me whenever I think about it. How it must have rankled the egos of so many brewers that thought they were God’s gift to the Craft to be turned down in favor of a House Elf.”
“And now a small werewolf boy as well,” Remus added with a grin, ruffling Teddy’s hair.
“It’s bloody poetry,” Draco agreed.
“Fred has actually volunteered to help,” Remus said suddenly, not feeling right talking about the elf without bringing that up as he’d promised. “I think he could be quite an asset, though I’m not precisely sure how yet.”
“Well, I wouldn’t dare underestimate him,” Draco agreed, eyes widening marginally with a small shake of his head as if to clear it. “We should really start going through these, making lists of families and individuals and which category they fall into.” He pulled out his wand to Summon the necessary items, not seeing them on the table.
Teddy instantly shrank back into his chair, ducking his head down as if he expected the room to explode, which maybe he did.
Draco noticed instantly, face fluctuating in indecipherable emotion before settling back into his usual bland expression. Instead of putting his wand away, he set it down on the tabletop and pushed it towards the boy, leaving it to sit impotently in front of him. He folded his hands and leaned his elbows on the table, looking straight at Teddy. “Hey,” he said softly.
It took a second, but Teddy opened his tightly scrunched eyes and lifted his head.
“You’re right to be afraid of it you know, magic,” Draco told him, still leaned in as if he were telling Teddy a secret.
Harry seemed ready to protest, but Remus held out a hand to stop him, more interested at what Draco would say than anything else. He really couldn’t make Teddy’s fright worse, could he?
Teddy obviously didn’t expect this, it clearly showed in his face.
“You don’t need to tell me, but I think we both- we’ve all seen it do terrible and frightening things. If I’m not mistaken, we’ve seen and experienced people doing those same things, have we not, both with and without it?”
Teddy nodded, a haunted look in his eyes that broke Remus’ heart cleanly in half. Harry looked ready to explode but was holding it together so far.
“But we’ve also seen and experienced things from people like kindness and love, haven’t we?” Draco’s eyes darted to Harry as if he resented him for being present and having ears to hear what he was saying with. “I know you have,” he said, omitting himself from the example for the first time, “I’ve seen it coming from your father and from Severus and from Potter here, and I’ve watched you return it.”
Teddy nodded again, wringing his small hands and leaning forward now slightly, his eyes flickering from Draco’s face to the wand on the table, clearly not quite making sense of what he was getting at just yet.
“That wand in front of you, just as it is, is merely a stick. A carefully crafted stick that has been perfected by hundreds of years of careful research and experimentation, and it is very important to me, but it is still, essentially, just a stick when I am not holding it. When I pick it up, I make it more than a stick - I make it magical. Or more accurately I make it a conduit for my magic; it becomes something to focus my magic, to make it stronger and more accurate. Does that make sense?”
Teddy nodded again, leaning forward even more but still seeming hesitant to get too close to the wand.
“The wand by itself is neither good nor evil. Magic by itself is neither good nor evil. It is our intent that makes it so. Do you know what intent means?” Draco asked carefully, watching Teddy waver in his answer, unsure.
“In this context it means your intention or purpose, in other words it means what you are going to do, what you mean to do. Does that make sense?”
“I think so,” Teddy said.
“Okay. Go ahead and pick it up,” Draco told him.
Teddy’s eyebrows rose. He didn’t move.
“Go on, I promise it won’t hurt you.”
Teddy looked at the wand as it if was a hungry animal waiting to bite off his hand if he went near it. He squeezed his dragon tightly under one arm and reached out for the wand slowly with the other. The tips of his fingers touched it first and then withdrew quickly. When nothing happened he looked up at Draco, who nodded encouragingly. He went in again, this time steeling himself and picking the item off of the table. When nothing happened again, he brought it nearer himself, inspecting the intricate carvings that wound around it seemingly in spite of himself.
“What do you intend to do with it?” Draco asked.
Teddy looked shocked. “Nothing! I don’t even know how to do anything!”
“But you will one day, Severus will make sure of it,” Draco aid with confidence. “What do you intend to do with it then?”
“Still nothing, it’s your wand,” Teddy said with attitude.
Draco laughed. “Brat; I see why Severus likes you so much. Fine, what do you intend to do with your own wand, your own magic, when the time comes?”
“I don’t know… make potions? Help people?” Teddy suggested.
“Excellent,” Draco praised. “Keep that in your heart and magic will be good to you. Also keep in mind that you can do that with magic – help other people and yourself. You can use it to build things and to create music or art or to cook food. Its possibilities, the wondrous things it can do are absolutely endless. Still, it is never a bad idea to be mindful of magic, of who is wielding it around you and what you think they plan to do with it. You will see people use it for almost everything and please, watch and learn. Remember what it is capable of, which is anything people themselves are capable of imagining. But please, do give it a chance, because people are often capable of marvelous things.”
Teddy looked down at the wand in his hands again. “People decide what magic does,” Teddy concluded. “I’ve seen sir do some neat things with it,” he admitted, handing the wand back to Draco, who, by just appearing to examine it himself, gave Harry a large pair of ethereal rabbit ears.
Teddy’s eyes widened again and he couldn’t stop himself from laughing.
“What?” Harry asked, following the boy’s gaze over his head. “Malfoy!” he exclaimed in exasperation, only causing Teddy to laugh harder.
Draco’s lips twitched, but he ended the spell all the same. “Magic can be fun, too,” he told Teddy conspiratorially. “Well,” he continued in a voice that said ‘I’m changing subjects now’, “I bet you don’t just want to sit here and watch us read letters all day?”
Teddy shook his head. “Not really.”
“I don’t blame you. I’ll go get some stuff from upstairs. If you come help me, I’ll set you up in the living room and you can put some of those things I showed you the other day to use on a canvas. How does that sound?”
“I can paint sir a picture for when he comes home!” Teddy said excitedly.
“I know for a fact that he would love that,” Draco grinned.
“Don’t worry, we can get started without you,” Remus said indulgently. “We’ll go through these letters and see where we’re at. We can start writing some more when you’ve got Teddy all set up in there.”
Draco and Teddy left the room. This time it was Teddy’s voice that called for a race as they clomped up the stairs.
Harry exhaled heavily.
“Well?” Remus asked, entertained by the perplexed look on Harry’s face.
“I feel like I’ve stepped into some alternate plane of existence,” Harry told him.
“I know the feeling, you’ll get used to it. We’d best start going through these, I doubt Draco will be long and he seems to have similar expectations to his godfather when it comes to efficiency.”
They read the sorted letters, listing the names of people who had agreed to help, wanted to hear more, and those that had flat out refused; Remus was surprised to find how few of that last category there really was. He was also staggered how many of the people who had agreed right off the hop had also included some note as to why they wouldn’t hesitate to sign their petition.
Some of them agreed because they were interested in changing the legislation around the slavery of werewolves and the restrictions placed on other non-humans. A startling amount included a mention of something Severus had done for them or their families during the wars, either directly or indirectly. Many letters were from houses Remus had believed to be avid supporters of the Dark Lord, but who wrote that since he had done so much to help end his reign, they would lend their support to anything they believed might help him in return. Some were from old students, members of almost every house that listed the steps Snape had taken to convince them not to take The Mark – most said that it only made sense to them upon discovering that he was spying for Dumbledore.
Then there were the letters detailing how he deserved everything that was coming to him. Those letters seemed to come from both sides of the war as well. Remus had to contain himself at some of the accusations that were made. Still, somewhere inside of him, he couldn’t help but wonder how many of the accusations rang true. It felt like betrayal and he stomped it down directly. Even if they were true, so what? Severus wasn’t that man today, he knew it with every fiber of his being.
Many people were undecided, but most of these agreed to come to the meeting at Malfoy Manor to at least hear the full case that Draco intended to make, both on fighting for Severus’ early release as well as for the freedom for non-humans. That, at least, meant that they weren’t counted out yet, and Remus tried to bolster his hope that they could convince at least some of them to join their side.
Draco returned eventually, as surprised by the results of the replies as anyone. He sat down to pen thank you notes and reconfirm the date and time to all those who even sounded remotely open to even hearing them out.
While he did that, Harry and Remus started on a new round of letters. Remus wrote to everyone from the Order of their associates that he could think of. He added small amounts of flair to each copied letter to let people know that it really was him doing this, and that he was doing it himself. He tried to pour his belief of Severus’ good nature, the weight of his deeds and what he had had to endure, about his own personal reasons for wanting this, besides the obvious bonus of fighting for his freedom and the freedom of his kind. In retrospect, he may have included too much emotion, making it clear that he, personally, wanted Severus back as soon as possible because Severus was a remarkable man that had treated him and his son with more than respect. He felt that many of these people would need to hear that, as they were probably speculating what Severus had been doing with him even as he penned his thoughts to parchment.
They sent letters out in endless batches, replies coming in the whole while. There was little in the way of conversation, but everyone at least appeared at ease. They might have gone on like that all morning, had Darien Ackerley not arrived, walking into the kitchen like he owned the place.
“Good to see you’re all here,” he said in place of ‘hello’.
“Glad to see you’re in such a hurry to earn your gargantuan hourly rate that you couldn’t even stop to knock,” Draco said, sounding a thousand times more cheerful than his words implied.
“Have I mentioned how pleased I am that your family is staying out of trouble these days? That generally means I see less of them, this particular case aside,” Darien beamed back. “Remus,” he said more warmly. “And Auror Potter, you’re here again. I take it that implies you mean to lend Severus your support?”
“Among other things,” Harry agreed.
“Well there may be more of a chance than I previously believed.”
“Did you draft something up?” Draco asked.
“A few things, actually,” Darien said, setting his satchel down on an unoccupied chair and rifling through it, pulling out a folder. From the folder he drew three creamy looking pieces of parchment. Pointing to them individually, he said, “Here is the petition to free Severus early; this will be the most difficult to achieve, not because of what it stands for, but because we have such a short time to accomplish it in. Here is the one to demand that an Official Ministry Inquiry be done on WIBNA, its practices and policies and employees; this might actually be the most likely of the three petitions to effect any change. This last one is to call for change to the Slavery laws, just to let them know we mean business.”
“We do,” Draco said. “We’ve been writing letters to what feels like most of the Wizarding World. Any interested parties may bring other interested people. We’re opening up the Manor to the public, whether they have an invitation or not. I’m going to address them and try to get as many people to sign these petitions as I possibly can.”
Darien looked amused. “Lucius is opening the Manor to the public? I might have to attend just to see this,” he smirked. “They’re probably bolting down anything of value right now.”
“I’m glad I’m here,” Draco agreed with a laugh.
“I didn’t know it was ‘open’ so to speak. I thought it was by invite only,” Harry said. Remus privately agreed.
“We wanted the maximum turnout possible. I’m sure he’s contacting people himself, trying to get them to agree to come. The elves will show people through the Manor and into the back, both to demonstrate that we have nothing to hide as well as being a sign of trust – the actual event will be held in the courtyard. I believe it’s the only place large enough to accommodate all the people we hope will come.”
“I suppose there will be tea and dainties as well,” Harry scoffed. “Is this a publicity stunt or an actual attempt to change things?”
“Why can’t it be both at once?” Draco shrugged. “And of course there will be food and refreshments; we’re not heathens, Potter. Besides, people are better on a full stomach, more agreeable and willing to listen.”
“Who will be serving this event?” Remus asked. It seemed pertinent.
“Elves, of course,” Draco said. “There will be enough seating and refreshments for everyone. I don’t know if people will bring their slaves to this or not, but it will be made clear that everyone attending will be doing so on equal footing. That is the point we’re trying to make here after all and if people can’t even have a cup of tea with their slave while they are sitting beside them, I doubt they’ll be giving us much support anyway.”
“Does your family own slaves?” Harry asked suddenly.
“Yes,” Draco said in a matter of fact tone, eyes avoiding Remus’.
“And how do they plan on explaining that during their ‘anti-slavery’ campaign?”
Darien was silent, leaning against the counter and watching the exchange with gleaming eyes. Remus stayed quiet, wanting to know the answer to this question himself.
“I can’t speak for everyone,” Draco said slowly, “but we have nothing to hide where the treatment of our people is concerned. Our family has been under such intense Ministry scrutiny since the war, we have been afraid to step out of line in any way that could even be misconstrued – that extended into our treatment of the household help. We own slaves, yes, most Houses of our status do. That doesn’t mean we’ve treated them as animals – they’ve been well fed, housed and cared for, as far as I’ve witnessed. All of them will be there when we meet, sitting with the rest of the people gathered. All of them will be freed as soon as the laws allow it, and they will all be given a sum of money to start their new lives with. I hope that’s good enough for everyone,” he ended defensively.
“It sounds as if you’ve thought this through,” Remus said before Harry could speak.
“I certainly hope so,” Draco replied.
“Anyone want to hear how these petitions work?” Darien asked. “Not that I mind getting paid to listen to this or anything.”
Draco rolled his eyes and gestured towards the papers on the table.
“These here are one set of the counting copies. They make sure that every name entered into the petition is from a Witch or Wizard with a valid magical signature, that that person is of age and only enters once. This way you can have several signing sheets, all of which report back to these papers here, so to speak. The other set of them are safely locked away where mishap or misdeed can’t touch them.”
“So we could just hand out ballots or something like that? And the answers written on those ballots would appear on these sheets with all of the necessary information,” Harry stated.
“Precisely,” Darien agreed though he rolled his eyes while he did it.
“How many signatures will we need?” Remus asked.
“All of them,” Darien said. “Or at least that is the attitude you should all be entering this with. I don’t know how many signatures you’re going to need to get enough attention to make something happen. You have the bonus of the media being on your side. Have you read the papers yet?”
All three of them looked blankly back at him.
“No then. Alright, well do that when I’m gone, I think you’ll be surprised. I know that I was. That turnout might be larger than you expect, Draco. Anyway, just copy the magical signature of the documents onto your ballots, or whatever you’re calling them, before putting them to use. All this is for naught if people’s votes and magical signatures aren’t recorded in the end. Let me know if you need anything other than that,” he said, looking at Remus while he did. When Remus was silent he continued, “Other than that I’ll likely see you at your little event. If you’re unsure of anything you’re doing, owl me and I’ll be here as soon as I can.”
“Thanks for dropping these off,” Harry offered.
“My pleasure, Auror Potter, as was meeting you in person. I’ll be seeing you soon, but as for now, I have groundwork to do if anything you’re doing here has any hope of succeeding.”
“Later, Ackerley,” Draco said.
“Later, indeed,” Darien muttered as he slung his bag over his shoulder and exited the room.
Finally hearing the door slam shut behind the solicitor, Draco stood up and retrieved the papers. He took a deep breath for fortification and unrolled The Prophet. The front photo asked for a magical signature to reveal itself, and so Draco touched it with the tip of his wand. The reason for the was made obvious, a photographic reenactment played out before their eyes, Severus, falling to his knees, black and white blood covering everything in its refractions and shadowy depths.
Remus, almost knowing what to expect, watched the boy’s faces rather than the horrible scene laying itself out before them all, having already witnessed it one more time than he would have liked in his life. Harry recoiled, his eyes observing the picture move through one cycle and then meeting the tabletop resolutely, readjusting his glasses and fidgeting his hands. Draco looked away almost immediately; but then did something interesting. He appeared to shake it off and then forced himself to look at the picture. He must have watched it play through three times before he let the paper bend so that he could read the article that was placed further down the page. Remus wondered what he drew from witnessing it and found himself hoping that, somehow, what he took from it was strength.
They passed the papers around in a circle, reading all three of the ones that regularly came to Severus’ house.
“Snape’s solicitor is right, these do sound like they’re slanted in our favor,” Harry said when he was done.
“Hard to be on the team who does something like this with such little shame,” Draco pointed out. “Even Riddle never killed someone directly on the front page of The Daily Prophet.”
“So we’ll just have to try and use the media to our advantage,” Remus said, unable to contemplate Severus’ fate just then.
“That’s exactly what I intend to do,” Draco said. He penned a letter quickly while they watched. He then Charmed it to duplicate itself. “I’m going to contact those reporters that Severus decided on, try and get them to work with us. I want to put the offer to come to the Manor into the papers for tomorrow morning and they seem like the best way to get it done. I also want them to attend so that they can keep articles coming so that people will remain interested.”
“Your father is going to be okay with this?” Remus asked hesitantly.
Draco shrugged, busying himself with tying up the letters. “He said to attract as much publicity as possible, and I can’t imagine a better way to do that that to literally attract the public.”
“Then why the hell are we writing all of these letters?” Harry asked.
“Because that way the people specifically contacted will feel much more important, like they are pivotal to our cause. Which, in a lot of ways, they are. The Houses are what will get the wheels moving on this, or more likely their gold and influence will. Anyone else just bolsters our numbers, lets WIBNA and the Ministry know that regular Witches and Wizards are behind this too.”
“You keep saying ‘us’,” Harry pointed out. “You’re the one who’s going to be addressing this gathering, right?”
“Primarily, yes,” Draco started, “but we’d be foolish not to use any bit of influence we can to sway these people to our side.”
“So… in other words, ‘Harry, even though you’d probably rather not, would you be so kind as to address a massive group of people with little to no preparation’?”
Draco turned to face Harry, squaring his shoulders. “Are you with us or not, Potter?” he asked bluntly.
Harry seemed startled by the direct question. “Of course I’m with you,” his eyes twitched to Remus momentarily, “this has to stop and this might be our best shot to achieve that.”
“Well then get used to the idea of being in the spotlight again, as if anyone had ever turned it off of you in the first place. Whether or not either of us likes it, people will listen to you. You bring righteousness to the table, Potter, something neither myself, Severus nor the Old Houses combined can do. If people see us working together on this, it will turn some heads, for sure; more, I think, than either of us could hope to achieve on our own. I need to know right now if you’re willing to do what it takes to make this happen or if we have to figure out how to proceed without you. Once our faces are attached to this, there will be no turning back for either of us without damaging the cause, and I won’t have that.”
“I said that I’d help, and I will. I’m not crazy about public speaking, but if you think it will make that much of a difference…” Harry agreed reluctantly, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair. “Besides, I made a statement too and my face is in the papers right beside yours.”
“Of course it will make a difference, Harry,” Remus interrupted before an argument could start. “You saved the Wizarding World from a madman; people will hear what you say in ways they never could coming from anyone else.”
“Other than you,” Draco said.
“Me?” Remus asked.
“I think you’re the best shot Severus has of getting out of Lanning’s dungeon early,” Draco clarified. “I did a lot of thinking last night, and you should address the crowd as well.”
“Me?” Remus repeated.
“Yes, you. If you tell them the truth of it in your own words and call for Severus’ early release, people might be willing to listen to you.”
“I’m just a slave, I don’t see why anyone would listen to me,” Remus said quietly.
“You are also a hero in two wars, a member of the Order of the Phoenix, a widower of an Auror, a lycanthrope and the slave of Severus Snape. You knew him as a boy, a young man, a spy and colleague and now as a master and a lover. I don’t know if there is anyone more qualified to give him some humanity in the eyes of the public, or to let them know the kind of man he is today. Please think about it,” Draco requested.
“If it will help Severus, I’ll do it, no questions asked,” Remus answered resolutely. “I just didn’t think anyone would want to hear anything I had to say.”
“Regardless if they want to hear it or not, I think we should make them,” Draco said. “It’s too bad that Granger can’t be more involved; she has a knack for this sort of thing.”
“I’ll be sure to tell her you said so,” Harry said.
Draco shrugged. “Any idea what had Severus so spooked about her daughter? I don’t recognize her from anywhere.”
“Not a clue,” Harry said. “Hermione didn’t react at all when I told her how Snape acted when he first saw the picture, so it has to be important somehow.”
Remus cleared his throat.
Harry looked at him suspiciously. “Remus, do you know something?”
“Actually, I do. Severus didn’t want to go into it himself before he had to go, but he asked me if I would give you the basics.” He shuffled in his seat, feeling rather uncomfortable having to talk about something that was obviously so private for Severus.
“Well?” Draco asked, impatience showing.
“This can’t go any further than this room. I’m led to believe that only a handful of people know the full details. It has to do with what Voldemort had Severus doing in the period of time between when Albus died to shortly before the final battle.”
“He spoke of that with you?” Draco asked, startled. “It is one of the things he would never discuss.”
“Well I suppose that since Teddy and I were in his care, he found it relevant for me to know,” Remus told him, trying not to let himself become even more uncomfortable. “You’re familiar with Greyback’s children?”
“The ones he turned? Of course, I think most people are,” Harry said, leaning in. “What has that got to do with Snape?”
“Severus, being both trusted Inner Circle and one of the best Potions Master this country has ever seen, was placed in charge of using them to try and come up with a potion. This potion would keep them and all of the other packs in their transformed state for an extended period of time, full moon or no.” Remus couldn’t help but suppress a shudder at the thought of it. “They would have been the tipping point of the war, had it actually succeeded.”
“You’re kidding me,” Harry said. “That’s insane.”
“That’s The Dark Lord for you,” Draco said forebodingly, shaking his head. “He had Severus test his work on these children?”
Remus nodded. “Severus told me that he did anything in his power to make it appear he was making progress without really trying to find anything that would actually work. All of that while trying to keep the potions from hurting or killing the cubs.”
Draco leaned an elbow on the table and covered his mouth with his hand.
“I don’t know if either of you know enough about potions theory to appreciate the near impossibility of that. Actually coming up with something that would work could take a lifetime; trying to falsify theory and reaction equations in a way believable enough for The Dark Lord… madness. His work would have been checked by other brewers in Riddle’s employ. The punishment for failure, or worse being caught in a deception…”
“He didn’t speak much of that,” Remus said. “He did tell me that he managed to smuggle three children out of there alive, though he admitted he didn’t know what happened to them, in the end.”
“Now you’re kidding,” Harry said. “Are you implying that Elizabeth was one of those children?”
“I think he’s more than implying it, Potter,” Draco sighed.
Harry rubbed his temples. “I remember when they adopted her. Hermione was so set on it – said that if open minded people like her and Bill wouldn’t adopt infected children, she didn’t know who would. There wasn’t much in the way of information about Elizabeth or where she had come from, but that wasn’t uncommon, a lot of families wanted to sweep it under the rug. They didn’t care about her history, they just wanted her to come home and start being a part of their family.”
“I still don’t see why Severus felt the need to tell you all of this,” Draco said. “I’m starting to see how it’s important now, however – WIBNA can’t be allowed to have her.”
“He told me because he was concerned I would see him as an unfit guardian for my son,” Remus said, “but I don’t, not at all.” He absently touched the phial around his neck.
Perhaps it was something in his voice as he said it, but both Harry and Draco were suddenly very interested in the papers in front of them.
“Can we take a break from these letters for a while?” Harry asked, perhaps trying to change the subject.
“Good idea,” Draco agreed, “we should spend some time working on our speeches anyway.”
Harry groaned.

They worked the rest of the day, taking small breaks to eat and stretch their legs and backs. They were confident in their speeches, and decided to leave them to read again the next day before making any more changes or improvements. Harry was taking a copy of them to show Hermione as well, to see if she had any input. Remus took some time out of it all to spend with his son, which they primarily used to walk down to the pond and back, stopping to throw some stones into the murky water and counting the ripples they made.
Fred kept the boy busy for some of the night, but Remus was there for his bath and to tuck him in, staying until Teddy had fallen asleep.
When Remus finally opened the door to the room he shared with Severus, he wanted nothing more than to collapse on the bed and pull the pieces of his master remaining there as close about himself as he was able. He was startled to find Fred walking away from the bed.
“Fred?” he asked.
“Fred was just doing something for sir,” the elf told him, indicating the bed.
Remus’ eyes followed his gaze, finding a sealer jar sitting propped up on his pillow.
“Sir was telling Fred to be leaving that for you, but not the first night. Sir was saying that you was being too wound up and you would be enjoying it more tonight.” The look on his face clearly said he thought they were round the bend for having any interest at all in an empty jar.
“Thank you, Fred,” Remus said, wanting nothing more than to descend upon the jar to hear the sound of Severus’ voice.
“You is being welcome,” Fred said, disappearing without further notice.
Remus shed the unnecessary clothing he was wearing: socks and vest. He unbuttoned his shirt and sat on the bed, sliding onto the mattress and laying back so that he was comfortable before finally opening the lid of the jar.
“Hello Remus,” Severus voice was somehow even sultrier when no body was tied to it. It sounded like it came from all around him, covering him in its velvety resonance. He shivered and tried to stay silent so that he could listen to whatever message Severus had deemed important enough to leave him. “I rather hope that we’re alone right now – if not, I’d put the lid back on the jar if I were you.”
In spite of himself, Remus looked around the room, finding himself predictably alone. He nestled the jar onto Severus’ pillow and sat back to listen more intently. The voice gave a healthy pause, presumably to either give him time to close the jar or to find somewhere more private.
“Alone then, are we?” the voice asked. Remus felt gooseflesh break out across his shoulders. “Good. I wonder: have you been doing as I asked of you?”
Remus felt momentary panic, trying to remember if he’d been given an order. Nothing besides ‘treat yourself well’ and ‘tell the boys about Elizabeth’ stood out in his mind. True, he’d really only done only one of those things, but he felt like there was time. Too much of it, unfortunately.
“I doubt it, really.” Remus could almost hear the casual sneer in his voice. “I figured that you might need some encouragement, to put it honestly,” the voice chuckled, “and so here we are.”
Remus wasn’t sure that he followed, but he continued to listen, just glad to hear the sound of the other man’s voice. If he closed his eyes, he could easily imagine that Severus’ lanky form was sprawled across the mattress beside him.
“If you’re not already lying down, I’d appreciate if you did now. Loosen your collar and cuffs, get out of that vest and tie you’ve always seemed to like wearing; even when we were just graduated you dressed like an old man. Take a deep breath and relax; leave whatever shadows are cloying to your mind behind you for just a moment. Feel the surface that you are resting on below you, your even weight across it. Place your palm upon your chest; open your shirt if you have to – feel your heart’s recurrent pumping, keeping time even when you feel like you yourself are displaced from any natural rhythm.”
What Remus felt was his heartbeat speeding up as he did as he was instructed.
“Have you been taking care of this heart while I am away?” Severus’ voice asked seriously.
Said heart skipped a beat.
“No? Well, in that case how about this body?” Severus’ voice was openly playful now. “Have you been easing its sore and stretching muscles? Feeding it well? Tending to every taut and rigid length of it, hmm?”
Remus was glad that he was alone and horizontal. He would have had a difficult time explaining the flush in his face, the burgeoning hardness in his pants. Severus had said to make himself comfortable and unbutton his cuffs, hadn’t he? He did that and then undid the clasps on his trousers, feeling both like a foolish teenager and a traitor for doing this while Severus was likely under the whip.
“Perhaps you should do that now; lie back on the bed, head on the pillows. You could open your shirt – let the cool air prickle your skin. Feel the warmth of your fingertips contrasting that sensation as they trail from your collarbones, down the hollow of your chest, the sensitive skin of your stomach on to – oh, what’s that? Still in your trousers, Remus?” Severus said it as if he were silly and to be coddled and led. Somehow that made him even harder.
“They’re not needed at this point, I should think. How about you slide out of them? Slowly, as if I were there watching you. Pull them down your angular hips, let the pressure of them sliding over your arse pull them against your cock – a little too tight, much too brief, but all the same a hint of the joys your body is bursting at the seams for you to feel…”
Remus did as he was instructed, hardly having the presence of mind to feel embarrassed. If he felt this way while he heard it, how had Severus felt while he had spoken it, alone and into the mouth of this sealer jar? Had he imagined Remus as he was, mostly naked and taking instruction from the suggestion of his voice alone? He brought his hand up to palm his hardness, closing his eyes and letting Severus’ voice wash over him.
“Have you removed them completely? Or are they still tangled around your ankles? I wonder if you have removed all of your clothing, or just your trousers? I’m picturing you now, your eyes closed tightly, shirt hanging open. Naked to at least the knees, though I’m betting you managed your clothing more ably than that. Are they a lump on the floor? It matters not, what I care about is that you are hard and in your own hand. Perhaps your other hand is grasping at the blankets as it is wont to do, but may I suggest moving it upwards to caress your stomach, to tweak at your nipples? First gently and then as if you’re serious about it, feel free to drag your thumb across the nub to sooth the sting…”
Remus couldn’t believe himself, what he was hearing. It was as if Severus was watching him, and directing his monologue from there. Remus found himself scrambling to the bedside drawer where he knew the emollient to be, moving back into place and fisting himself out of pure necessity, fumbling with the cap at the same time.
“Have you gone for the ointment yet? I’m sure you know it’s in the drawer; you’re likely starting to chafe by now. Spread it across yourself, feel its balm and more, feel the silken substance stroke you. Thumb the thick vein on your underside; tease your tip until it is just about too much and then caress yourself completely down to the root… just like that. Tug on your bollocks and trail the fingers of the hand not doing this down to trace around your pucker. Be liberal with the ointment; spread your legs if you have to, open yourself up to my imagination. Because though my eyes are not upon you, my mind certainly is, singularly and with focus. I see you before me as clearly as the chair by the fireplace sees you now, hand debating between your bollocks and that gorgeous cock you were just stroking so fervently…”
Remus was panting. He was doing everything the voice narrated him to and more. One of his oiled fingers was already breaching his entrance. He knew he would take less time with himself than Severus ever did, but with this voice urging him onward, how could he not? Also, more pressingly, the thought of this man who held everything so close to himself, guarded his dignity and his privacy above all else, leaving this filthy message in a sealer jar for him to hear made him want to come on the spot. But Severus wasn’t finished yet, and though he wasn’t present, Remus didn’t want to disappoint him.
The voice took pause again, this time as if Severus was trying to collect himself.
“Are you inside of yourself yet, Remus? Are you still searching or have you found it, that spot that lights you up? If you haven’t, carefully try another finger, if you have, do that anyway and then worship it for me. Drag your fingers across it in long strokes and then punctuate that motion like you’re tapping your fingers with impatience. You’re not neglecting your prick, are you? Stroke it in time to your thrusting; I’m barely able to keep from touching myself, thinking about you open and boiling with pleasure. Gods, Remus, you’re so glorious and you’re not even here right now.”
Remus wasn’t able to help himself, fingers driving deep inside of himself, hand furiously working over his prick, he came hard.
“That’s right, lovely,” Severus’ voice encouraged, “I want you to feel good; to know what your body is capable of with or without me. You’re entitled to this, Remus, I’m just here to remind you. I don’t know what time it is, but I hope it’s late and you’re ready for bed. Don’t forget to luxuriate. Spread out, take over my side, make yourself at home; because you are at home, whether I am beside you or not. I… I care for you, Remus. Rest easy and make sure your son has so much fun he doesn’t even notice I’m not there. Sleep well, I’ll be seeing you soon.”
Remus couldn’t help the tightness in his throat, the moisture threatening his eyes. Sadness and exaltation warred within him. He cleaned up and then settled down into the bed as best he could. He held Severus’ pillow and the phial containing his soul close to him, trying to convince himself that he’d really just heard the man say he cared for him.

Somewhere in the night, Severus had lost track of time. It was to be expected really; dying was incredibly disorienting. Just before his body had expired from lack of any other option, Lanning had killed him. It had happened so swiftly he hadn’t seen it coming, hadn’t had a second to brace himself. Not that it would have mattered - nothing could have prepared him for the magnitude of the agony he experienced while his body efficiently healed itself.
New teeth had driven their way up through his bleeding and swollen gums, pushing the shards of enamel that hadn’t completely been forced out by the pear in or out any way they would go. The skin of his cheeks and lips had folded back towards each other and held as if they had been welded together, despite how the muscles were working as he opened and closed his mouth to scream.
He was distantly aware of a fist in his hair holding his head still, a lancing, incredible pain that spread through the right side of his head. He felt hot blood running down his face and then startling pain as something began to emerge from the shredded tissue on the side of his head. Lanning had cut off his ear, and it was immediately healing itself. There was little time to dwell on it, pain was erupting from every part of his body.
The tissue missing from his leg filled itself in; muscles, blood vessels, nerves and skin regrew themselves swiftly. The toes that had been cut off did the same. Bone poked itself out from the bloody ends of his feet and the rest of the tissue crawled up to encompass them until they were recognizable as digits again. The worst part of that had been the nails, growing out from the sensitive tissue and then flattening out across it at an alarming rate.
Through it all his restraints had stayed in place; all of the fighting and writhing he had done hadn’t loosened them one bit. That didn’t stop what felt like every muscle in his body from contracting with all of their strength. Nausea warred against the pain and he vomited, thankful that there wasn’t anything in his stomach for him to choke on as he managed to swallow his bile back down. Every breath was a laborious task, his heart was pounding like it was trying to overcompensate for all of the times it had been stopped prematurely. Finally it was all over, he lay there ill and in agony, damp from his own blood and perspiration, ready to begin again.
Lanning was leaning against the table through all of it, looming over him all the while with a smile on his face. “Well that was a good start, don’t you think?” He must have accepted Snape’s uneven breathing for an answer because he’d continued, “Though I am starting to feel a little played out from all of the excitement. I might head off for the night; more of a morning than an evening person and all that.”
The bonds had released themselves from around his wrists and ankles. He’d felt himself levitated off of the slab and floated across the room. There had been a smallish trunk set off in the corner and Severus was just aware enough to realize they had stopped in front of it.
Lanning lifted the heavy latch and opened the lid, which swung out like a door. Inside of the box were what looked like solid metallic crates fastened in both the bottom left and top right corner. The rest of the space inside was left open, though there wasn’t much to speak of.
“I’m going to turn in now, but I’ll be back to keep you company tomorrow – I’ve been saving up my holidays and now I know why! I’ll be down to see you directly after breakfast. As for your accommodations, I’ve prepared something quite special.” Lanning undid another latch attached to the top square in the box. It opened outward, making a seat just large enough for him to fit inside.
Severus tried to focus on what Lanning was saying and showing to him. It was always better to know what you were getting into. And it appeared he would be getting into a very small space and then shut in for the duration of the night. Splendid. It was interesting how after everything he’d been put through that day, the sight of such a cramped prison still made his heartbeat race, his breathing accelerate. Lanning really had done his research. Irrational fears such as claustrophobia became so much more difficult to manage when they were put to such a test. He would need to begin Occluding immediately.
He felt himself levitated again. Quinton pushed him into the box and onto the small seat, folding his legs under him and moving his arms so they were crossed in front of his body, hands hanging between his legs, shoulders squeezed together. He was too weak to fight and even if he were able, it would do him no good. Instead, he fought an internal conflict to remain calm. As soon as he was alone he could retreat into the dubious safety of his mind and try to create shelter.
Lanning closed the first section of the box up and turned the lock to keep it in place. It brought the crate back down to form a large, solid wall directly in front of him. It pressed against his chest and knees, letting him know at all times that he was confined. Already there was hardly room for him to take a full breath and the door wasn’t even closed yet. He was starting to sweat all over again.
“I hope it’s cozy enough,” Lanning said happily. “After reading your file, I understood immediately that in order for anything I do to you to have any real, lasting impact, I would have to break you down considerably first. That means that the first few days will be the most grueling, and then we can really get down to it. Well, that’s all for now. Have a good night!” Lanning said, smiling attractively as if he had just tucked Severus into bed in the master suite of the manor, and then closed the door.
Severus could hear him bolt it from the other side, as if there was enough room for him to escape. He fought mad dread as he heard Lanning walk away, a door close behind him. There was a moment where nothing was heard, and then the sound of yet another closing door. Then there was nothing but silence and choking dismay.
He took hold of himself the best he could. Lanning’s parting words left him assured that the night’s events weren’t over, for him anyway. Before the real fun began, he had to try and sort some things out in his head. Ignoring his rising horror at the complete lack of room, he internalized his consciousness and began to Occlude with everything he had. With the knowledge that he was alone, even through the exhaustion and fear it was relatively easy to achieve.
Claustrophobia was something he’d been fighting for as long as he could remember. Lanning may have known this and thought that with his limited magic and strength he wouldn’t be able to keep his wits about him while being confined. What he hadn’t counted on was the sheer amount of time Severus had devoted to shielding his mind from this particular fear. He’d been doing it for almost two decades before he’d even heard the word ‘Occlumency’, for years before he’d even held a wand. He’d done it for days at a time, soaked in his own urine with no food or water, with broken and dislocated bones. He could do it now.
Once he began, he found it much less of an exertion than he’d anticipated. Without Quinton’s constant interruptions, he was able to take stock of his mental shields. They were mostly destroyed, yes. Some of the foundations, however, remained sturdy and intact. He swiftly began to build again. He neglected tending to the entirety of his walls – he’d put his mind back in order again when this was all over. All he wanted now was a protective barrier for his consciousness to hide behind.
It wasn’t like actual building, but if he pictured it as such, his progress had always been swifter, sturdier. So he literally made a wall; with no attacks by Legilimency, it would be more than acceptable as there would be no need to disguise his defenses. Brick after heavy brick placed and mortared effortlessly into its proper place. He walled in an area of his mind that had always felt safe, as ironic as it would seem to anyone who knew and dragged himself into it, preparing to entrench himself there.
Behind the wall he had formed was an exact replica of his sitting room as it had been when he was a child. He went to the window and opened the lid, sliding inside as easily as a hermit crab into a new shell. It had always been one of the places he went to protect himself mentally, even though it was probably his most hated place in the actual world.
In there, he had been trapped, alone and in pain. But he had also been guaranteed that while he was in there, however miserable it was, nothing further would happen to him. No more beatings or beratings. No punishments or impossible tasks set out before him, with more penalties for failure certain to follow. He would not be told he was less than worthless, stripped naked and made to stand in the glaring sun all day; he would not be forced to hold buckets of water out from his body at right angles and then have the piss kicked out of him because a real man would have been able to do it for longer. As awful and terrifying as it had always been to be stuffed into the window seat, once he was inside his world entered one of homeostasis.
Through both wars, it had been where he went to heal his mind, to survive both the atrocities he endured and the ones he created with his own hands. If Tom Riddle hadn’t been able to find him and drag him out of there to expose him, nothing this man could possibly do to him now could; he knew that as intuitively as water knew to run downhill.
He could have laughed. Lanning had immersed him in his greatest fear, but the Healer couldn’t have known it was also his greatest strength. The ability to Occlude his fear of the small space away had given him the strength to fortify his walls to the extent that he could protect himself from anything the other man would do to him. His body could be shredded, he would feel the pain physically, mentally and emotionally, but that key part of himself would be safe from it; he would come out the other side more or less whole. No one who had not experienced it could totally understand how just that tiny buffer made such a large difference to the lasting impact of these things on a mind.
How long it had taken him to do this, he had no way of telling. The inside of the box was completely dark. His own hot breath was directed back into his face by the crate bolted directly in front of his face. He could wiggle his toes but not move his feet, nor change the angle his knees were bent at, which was starting to create a very unique pressure inside of his bad leg.
In spite of all of this he was almost asleep, forehead resting against the crate in front of him.
His eyes had only been closed for moments when he started to get warm. For a short while it was almost nice – he was cocooned in this space, enveloped in warmth. It wasn’t too long before things began to get intolerable. Severus realized that the flat surfaces inside the box were heating up rapidly. This included the bench he sat upon. He was dripping sweat now; the inside of his prison felt like an overheated sauna. Another unknown quantity of time passed when he was sure he could smell his own flesh beginning to burn, it would have choked him had he time to think about it. As it was, despite the complete lack of room to do so, he was writhing and growling, sobbing and struggling to get his uncovered body away from the hotplate that it was stuck up against.
Just when he though he wouldn’t be able to fight any longer and was going to collapse against his seat whether it burnt him alive or not, the heat began to dissipate. The temperature returned to a bearable level and stayed there a while. He was sure that there were many hours to go until daylight and even more until Lanning came to release him; that couldn’t be the only trick this box had to offer.
Sometimes he hated being right. The entire process repeated itself in reverse, as this time everything got cold. Very cold. He was naked and soaked in his own perspiration, and had no idea how badly burned his back, arse and thighs actually were. He supposed it held no real consequence. No matter how he tried to prevent it there was no way to keep warm or to prevent his damp skin from freezing to the metal of his confines. His teeth chattered together, his body wasted endless amounts of energy trying to keep himself warm. He didn’t dare try to remove himself from the seat until finally the box stopped being a freezer and began to return to room temperature at a pace that was altogether too slow for his liking. He wondered if his regrown toes would remain attached, his extremities had frozen so badly.
Again, he wasn’t granted much of a reprieve. The box heated up again, twice as fast as last time. The frostbitten skin across most of the backside of his body was engulfed in what felt like boiling water. The heat didn’t last half as long as the first time, but it was worse on his recently frozen skin.
When everything was eventually over, the cold didn’t return again, but it felt like a very small mercy. He still couldn’t move, couldn’t relieve the pressure of his own weight from off of his burns and blisters. The box was inactive for long enough that he thought he would pass out, which would have been an actual blessing at that point. Maybe the potion keeping him conscious was wearing off. He felt as if he should know how long to expect it to last, but found he couldn’t recall what it had tasted of, what the ingredients would be. Whether the potion would allow it or not, he closed his eyes and hoped for oblivion to claim him.
It was not to be. He felt something drop onto his head. It lingered on his crown before another joined it and everything ran down the side of his head. He held quite still, but it didn’t seem to be corrosive. The dripping became steadier. It was water, it had to be. He tilted his head up toward the slow stream, trying to get some of it to fall into his mouth. He hadn’t had any fluid since he’d left his house, and between bleeding, burning, vomiting, freezing, dying and everything else, he was beyond parched.
Finally managing it, he was disappointed but not surprised to find out the water was highly salinized. It burned as it ran down his blisters. The stream continued to gain volume, and no matter what he did it ran down his head, getting in his eyes and into his mouth as he panted for breath. He recognized right away that the water was beginning to pool about his feet. After a while his knees were submerged. This was taking much longer than either the heating or cooling cycles together had, but he was sure it would be just as dramatic, in the end. Sleep deprivation was a good angle, but this wasn’t his first run in with it. He would survive and his consciousness would be protected somewhat.
Severus felt distant anxiety as the water began to pool around his chest and then even more as it reached his shoulders, his neck. Finally he was extended as far upwards as the box would allow, head tilted towards the ceiling and neck craned as far as he was possibly able. Still the waters rose. They hadn’t yet closed over his mouth or nose when his thoughts turned to Teddy, his absolute fear during the first bath he’d given him, the stolen memory of the boy being held under the surface. He’d saved his child from this agony, and those that came before and were to come still. He’d made sure, at any cost, that his boy could go to bed safely and wake up unafraid. Here, in the solace of his own mind, he could allow himself to think of Teddy like that, couldn’t he? As his? He found himself wanting to be able to with a surprising intensity.
The muscles in his face were doing something. It took him a moment to realize that as the waters passed his mouth that he was grinning as madly as he was able. Lanning actually could do anything whatsoever to him and it wouldn’t matter. Every horrible thing that man did to him was a thing he wasn’t doing to Teddy, and that meant Severus had won, was winning. The man wanted to kill him, torture him, rape him? Fine. Let him do it! His barriers were in place now. He knew who he was and what he was here for. He knew what he was going home to – his child and his lover. If Lanning thought he could wear him down while he still held onto that knowledge, than perhaps all his research on Severus Snape hadn’t amounted to much after all.
He took his first lungful of salt water just as he felt bubbles rise from the water at his feet. Everything was draining. Maybe he would drown in here, but at least he would heal again and be ready for another round through the oven and freezer. Eventually, Quinton would retrieve him and before he knew it, he’d be a day closer to going home. It was a bizarre feeling to have in a situation such as his, but he was ready for anything now.

A/N: That was a long time coming. Life has been more than a nuisance lately. Sorry for such an extended wait after such a difficult chapter. I hope this one wasn’t quite as tough to get through! Thank you for your amazing support on the last chapter and for STILL coming back for more.
(Also, I edited previous chapters to include a jar for Remus, as apparently I’d forgotten to write that in the first time through. I though we could all use a little mood lightening, especially Remus!)
More to come as soon as I can write it! Please let me know what you though of this, your comments keep me going! More plot relevent things to come in the next installment, I promise. Thank you again!
A special thank you to Annika, the wonderful person who is helped me sort out the tangled mess I made of the punctuation in this chapter. You are amazing!
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The Long Road