Minerva
Severus slowly made his way up the stairs to the Astronomy tower. It was deserted and desolate. Sinistra had packed up all the telescopes and star charts for the summer, leaving the mounts and some random papers rustling in the wind.
Even though it was May, the night was chilly. The wind tried to dance with his cloak, but he held it wrapped tightly around him. It was his favourite source of comfort. Only a fortnight ago, he had stood here with the weight of the war on his shoulders, trying to catch a fleeting moment of peace after a day of mostly following the Dark Lord’s orders. He subverted some of them, a few a day, perhaps. Not nearly enough. He had stared at the ground and wished he could jump.
Things were different, now. In an effort to reflect that, Severus turned around to face the castle instead. He perched on the waist-high edge and tilted his head back to look at the stars. His neck twinged, but he ignored it.
He heard Minerva coming up the stairs long before she arrived. Her footsteps were as familiar as Dumbledore’s. She changed into her cat form to ascend the last flight of stairs, and reverted back in the doorway.
It was easier that way, he knew, because of the stunners.
She leaned against the ledge next to him and copied his stance. The bright stars illustrated the approach of summer—a time of peace, for professors. “Albus predicted this, you know. He hinted that the war would be over before the summer solstice, and here we are. Almost two months ahead of time.” Her joking tone, if that was what it was, didn’t land.
“I’m sorry,” Severus whispered nearly silently. He hated apologising, and even more when it was Minerva. But it was imperative, now.
Minerva didn’t respond right away, and Severus thought she didn’t hear him. But then, “For what? According to the wizarding world, we all owe a large debt to you.”
Severus snorted. “You know what I think about the wizarding world in general.”
He felt her eyes on him, but kept his firmly fixed on the stars.
“That it’s worth saving, apparently. Even if Albus couldn’t. Or—” she fell silent.
Would she ask? Would she say what she was thinking?
Severus found, to his dismay, that his heart compelled him to speak. “I wish to…explain…what happened with Dumbledore, two years ago.”
She looked at him, still, for a moment, then offered grace like the noble Gryffindor she was. “You don’t have to, Severus. I realise it was a…difficult situation, whatever it was.”
Severus wanted to remark on that understatement, but he was fixed in his course and determined to get the words out. “We had a plan. An…agreement. The D—you-know-who had tasked Draco with killing Dumbledore; Dumbledore did not wish Draco to fail in the attempt. The pieces fell into place as we anticipated, except for Potter of course…”
For a moment, Severus was sidetracked, thinking about Potter and his tendency towards surprise. Ever since the first morning he had woken up, Potter had been…subdued, respectful, and even mature. And most surprisingly of all, he had accepted Severus’ offer of a place to live for the summer.
“Do you mean to tell me it was planned? That Albus purposefully…?”
“Not as such. At least, not to hear him describe the plan. He wanted to make his death count as much as possible to gain an advantage.” Severus was very glad to have his occlumency barriers functioning again. At this moment, he was merely giving a report, as emotionless as always.
He had so many emotions to unpack.
“We agreed previously that when the time came, I would act as a helper or backup for Draco and cast the spell myself when the boy inevitably failed. This act served to solidify my place at you-know-who’s right hand and allowed me to continue in my role.”
“Are you—” Minerva started, loudly.
Severus jerked his head to look at her, surprised, sort of, at the anger in her voice. He should have expected it, though.
Minerva stalked away, smoothing her hands over her grey hair as she stared off the tower towards the Forbidden Forest.
Severus sighed and slumped against the ledge. He still felt too exhausted to put up any defense against a barrage of anger.
Minerva sighed and came back into his vision as he stared at his shoes. She stood right in front of him, almost too close. That was expected. She, rather like Lily, in fact, was a confrontational, direct kind of person.
She put a hand on his shoulder. That was unexpected. She hadn’t voluntarily touched him since—well, at least since the start of the second war.
“I am sorry, Severus.”
Whatever for? He had deserved every curse she threw at him, and worse.
“Not just for the duel last year, but for treating you so horribly this past year. And for not trusting you, and not trusting Albus…but most of all, Severus,” her hand moved to his chin, and he was so startled, he looked up to meet her gaze.
There was no more anger in it. There was no hatred, either. Severus didn’t know how to name the emotions he saw there.
“I am so, so sorry for what you had to do, and that you were alone. Albus should not have asked that of you.”
Severus shook his head. “I agreed,” he whispered. “Better my soul than Draco’s.”
“Is that what he told you?” Anger sparked in Minerva’s eyes again. The wind blew a wisp of her hair above her head. “I don’t believe that, and I don’t think he truly did, either. He cared for you, whether he admitted it or not.”
Severus rolled his eyes and pulled away, but she stayed close in front of him. He couldn’t deny it, though. The conversation in the afterlife was still fresh in his mind. It is too late for you to not make me proud beyond measure. He considered telling Minerva about his time in the afterlife. Would she think he finally cracked? Not that it would matter. His role was over, fulfilled.
It hit him, suddenly, that he had given up his chance at a peaceful afterlife. Now, here he was, stuck in this hard, cold world, to care for Potter and remember his regrets night and day until he could return. Was it possible to atone, to make even one sufficient apology?
“I am sorry.” No, that was definitely not sufficient. He could never make up for the damage he had done by existing.
“Oh, Severus,” Minerva said quietly.
Her voice was achingly kind.
Her hands, aged but strong, capable of wielding fierce and fiery magic, were horribly gentle on his head. They settled his head on her green-tartan-covered chest.
Her skirts protected the front of his legs from the wind. Her warmth bled into him like life. Her hands on his head whispered kind words he didn’t understand.
“Don’t you know Albus always called you his dearest boy?”
On the top of the Astronomy tower, a quiet place not unlike that one green park, Severus wept.
After a long time, he made himself pull away, but she didn’t go far. They both pulled out their handkerchiefs and used them quickly.
“You ought to get back to bed and rest,” Minerva suggested.
Severus shook his head. He still felt like he couldn’t sleep, and besides, he didn’t want to leave this peaceful quiet he had found in her forgiveness.
Minerva sighed, a little exasperated huff, but she drew her wand and cast a strong warming spell over their clothes. Then she tugged him over to sit down next to her on the ledge, still facing the castle with the bright stars above.
“You didn’t expect to live this long, did you?”
Severus was grateful for her bluntness. “No. I had planned to be gone long before this. I had only hoped to make it to the final battle, and to keep my cover as long as possible.”
She glanced at him again, then looked back at the stars, listening intently. “Your cover…you planned for it to never be blown at all? You would die, having everyone think you were loyal to him, even all of us.” Us being the Order and, well, everyone on the side of the Light.
“Yes.”
Minerva reached over and took his hand, making a sandwich with both of hers. He had a scar on the side of his finger, from when he cut himself but didn’t have time to heal it until later because he had been brewing a highly finicky potion. She rubbed it, gently.
“I wanted to publish my research,” he suddenly said, watching her rub his finger. “I have several notebooks full, and outlines for some books. I haven’t touched them in a while, though. If I had died, no one would want to even keep them.”
“Well, you’ll have to dust them off, then, won’t you? Severus Snape, Order of Merlin, First Class, greatest potions master of his time…”
Severus snorted. But he couldn’t deny that the idea had its appeal. He had years of research, and so many ideas he hadn’t had time for before. Most of it would benefit the wizarding world in some way or another. “Perhaps…” he murmured. “Of course, I won’t be able to focus all my time on it this summer. Potter will surely keep me chasing after his hide.”
Minerva chuckled. “I’d heard that he is living with you this summer. And perhaps, beyond?”
“He is planning to attend the eighth year here, and then the Magical Institute in Italy to obtain a masters in Defense. I suppose I will offer to let him stay, although I predict he’ll not want to live with a professor who will occasionally check his work.”
“It will be good for both of you,” Minerva said, still sounding amused. “He really does need extra support right now, the poor lad.”
“He’s hardly a lad anymore. After last year…” Severus shrugged. “I don’t know what those three went through, but they’re not children anymore.”
“Yes,” Minerva agreed sadly. “But that doesn’t mean they don’t need support from adults and parents who can help them recover and move on. I think you might be the perfect person to help Harry with that.”
“I’m the last person who should be involved in his life in any way.” Severus stopped himself from saying any more. She didn’t know all the details about the prophecy, but she knew enough about him to understand.
“I know why you say that, Severus, but think about it this way. Can anyone, like the Weasley parents, for example, understand what Harry has had to face for the past—well, many years?”
“They can offer him—I don’t know, care and companionship. They have experience with children. Being a head of house is nothing like being a parent, and you know it, Minerva.”
“Harry is old enough to take care of his basic needs, and his friends will always be there for him. But what he needs right now is someone who knows what it’s like to face down you-know-who, and play an important role, and feel guilty about deaths that aren’t his fault.” With those three words, she squeezed his hand. “He needs you.”
Funny, that was what Lily had said.
“At any rate, he won’t live in my old dump of a house,” Severus said to change the subject.
“Oh?”
“I bought a new house.”
“Severus!” She leaned into him with a wide grin, bumping his shoulder with hers. “That’s wonderful! Oh, you must have me come visit.”
“Since you hinted so subtly, I suppose so,” he agreed dryly. “Harry said it has the best kitchen of the lot, and has already started shopping for new cookware. Apparently, he fancies himself a chef. It must be all the experience he got cooking over a campfire.”
“Really? I suppose he would have had to, living on the run. If you need me to, I’ll send a house-elf with some Hogwarts food.”
“I believe Harry owns a house-elf, but he set him free and insists on paying him. But the elf will remain at Grimmauld Place for the time being.”
Minerva hummed, and he imagined she was thinking about all the Order meetings that had taken place there, with people who were now gone—Dumbledore, Black, Lupin—Harry had lost so many people who should have been able to stay with him.
“Am I correct in assuming you also plan to return here next year?” Minerva asked.
Severus was glad she avoided talking about those heavier things. “I believe so,” he answered. “And honestly…I am willing to teach either Potions or Defense, whichever you desire.”
“Really?” She looked at him in surprise. “You would go back to Potions?”
He shrugged. “Their grades have been slipping these past two years.” He pursed his lips when she kept looking at him, knowing there was more to it than that. “And now that I am more free, I may have a few ideas for updated textbooks.”
Minerva chuckled. “Of course you do. That would be wonderful, Severus. You know Horace is more eager to ‘re-retire’ now than ever. And—” she hesitated, biting her lip.
“And?”
“Well…I’m in need of a Deputy.”
Severus hadn’t thought of that. “What about Flitwick? He has a lot more experience than I do. So does Sprout.”
“Pomona has always refused to take on anything more because of her greenhouses. Filius…” Minerva sighed. “He has been here a long time, but he’s set in his ways and routine, and he practically told me to consider him my last resort.”
“I see.” Severus wasn’t exactly excited about the prospect, but he knew he could fill the role fairly easily, and he still wanted to do anything he could to make things up to Minerva. “Alright, Headmistress,” he said with a nod, looking her in the eyes. “I’ll be your deputy on one condition.”
“What’s that?” she asked warily.
“We handle any interhouse conflict between Gryffindor and Slytherin together,” he challenged.
In credit to her Gryffindor nobility, she agreed. She even shook his hand, then went back to holding it in hers.
That settled, they went back to watching the stars. Severus asked about her success finding a new Defense teacher, as well as professors for Transfiguration and Muggle Studies. She maundered about the candidates and their myriad lack of qualifications. Severus listened, offering input every so often. His head grew heavy, and he found it natural to rest it on her shoulder.
She stopped talking and put her arm around his shoulders. “I apologise, Severus, I was going on and on, and you need your rest. Let’s get you back to the Infirmary before you fall over.”
“My quarters,” he mumbled.
Minerva tutted and tugged him to his feet. “Nonsense. I know perfectly well that you sneaked out. Poppy was about to come look for you when I told her I would instead.”
Severus huffed but followed her as they went inside and began carefully descending the steps. “And here I thought I had finally snuck past her.”
“Dream on, laddie. Even I can’t sneak out of Poppy’s Infirmary.”
“But now that I’m out, I can just go to my quarters. I can take my potions just as well there,” he argued.
“Severus Snape,” Minerva said sternly. She turned to him at the bottom of the stairs and pointed a finger in his face. “You will march with me right back to your bed in the Infirmary, or else I’ll stun you and levitate you there myself. Understaun’?” Her Scottish accent came through, as it usually did when she scolded students, whether former or current.
“Fine,” he huffed, and offered her his arm to walk down the hall. He was still weak on the right side, though, so he leaned a bit on her.
“There’s a good lad,” she said, back to her nice, gentle tone. “Don’t fret, Severus, I’ll bring you some tablet.”
“I’ll be good,” he promised immediately. Minerva’s tablet was legendary among the staff.
“You’re not going home yet, are you? I don’t imagine your new house is quite ready yet.”
“No, we’re planning to finish it a little at a time while we stay to help with the repairs to the castle. We’ll stay another week, maybe more.”
“Good,” she said firmly. “I like having everyone close.”
They made it to the Infirmary before Severus passed out from exhaustion, but it was close. In his private room, they found Harry dozing on the chair by his bed.
He woke up when they came in, looking ruffled and confused. “Where’d you go? I was just waiting for a minute—” he yawned hugely.
Severus sat down heavily on his bed. “Just for a walk. Why didn’t you lie down?”
“Didn’t wanna steal your bed,” Harry mumbled. “Hullo, Pr’fessor.”
“Minerva, would you make a cot for this mess of a child? It’s past one in the morning, Harry.”
“Hello, Harry. Here, come lie down, there’s a good lad,” Minerva said, guiding Harry over to the newly transfigured cot.
“That’s a good time for a walk,” Harry agreed sleepily, but he had no more to say once his head hit the pillow.
Severus shook his head almost fondly as he watched Minerva tuck Harry in, pulling the red coverlet right up to his chin. Then she came over to him and began doing the same, ignoring his protests. “Hush, Severus. You’ve had enough excitement for the day.”
He snorted, fighting sleep. “Haven’t done anything but take a walk. Poppy wouldn’t let me help or do anything…”
“You can do some tomorrow,” she whispered, dimming the lights. How did she know that both he and Harry liked a little light coming in the window? “Go to sleep, Severus.”
Before Severus could let himself do so, he had to ask something. He couldn’t remember why he hadn’t asked it before. “Do you forgive me?”
Minerva’s hand froze on his brow. He cracked an eye open, but he couldn’t read her expression, and he couldn’t keep his eyes open. She brushed his hair back, oh so gently. “Yes, Severus,” she said frankly. “Of course I do. And I hope you forgive me.”
I do, he thought, but his tongue was heavy and his mouth wouldn’t open, so he thought, I’ll tell her in the morning, and then he was off, drifting in the most peaceful sleep he had had in years.