Give Me Your Hand

.~*~. Give Me Your Hand .~*~.

Chapter Two

Just Listen to Me

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Time seemed to creep forward, with no intention to hurry up. Remus sat in his favourite armchair, his wand at ready all the time, listening nervously to every little crack or crush, expecting to see Death Eaters attacking him at any moment. Or maybe it would be something worse -- like his husband.

It was past midnight already as he heard the quiet sound of somebody knocking on the door. Quickly whispering a couple of extra wards to ensure little Harry's safety, he then tiptoed towards the door, all the time dreading to see James in the small mirror.

It was not James, however. Severus stood in front of the door, looking pale and tired. Not lowering his wand, Remus opened the door a bit.

"Good evening, Remus," said Severus quietly. "Or, rather, good morning. Whatever."

"Good evening, Severus," the werewolf replied. "Come inside, please. I'd rather not have the door open for a second longer than is absolutely necessary."

Sighing and nodding in agreement, the black-clad man moved inside. He then watched as Remus locked and warded the door with various charms and hexes, and after a moment of hesitation, added his own spells to them. Giving him a grateful, yet nervous smile, Remus led him to the living room.

Sitting down on the couch, Remus waited until Severus was seated next to him. Then he asked, "Why exactly did you come?"

"James escaped," the Slytherin said quietly. "After Lily and Peter died."

Remus nodded slowly, his eyes already drained of tears. "I'm aware of that," he said with just as quiet tone as that of Severus's.

"Sirius, of course, went to search for him," Severus continued with the same blank tone. "He found James, in the middle of a Muggle town."

Remus nodded again. Suddenly, he was getting a very bad feeling about this. Severus, alone and distressed, what he never was. And this empty, emotionless tone... Telling this story...

"James killed him," the black-haired man said simply. Remus's heart missed a beat. His mouth dry, his eyes stinging with tears he wanted to shed but couldn't, he listened as Severus went on, "Cold-bloodedly murdered him, and seven Muggles at the same time. Killed his best friend, and innocent people who'd done nothing wrong except for going for a late evening walk."

"James," Remus whispered. "He couldn't - he would never -" Then he sighed in defeat. It looked like his lover wasn't at all the person he'd thought him to be. "James did it."

Severus nodded. "He did. The Aurors caught him right after that, however. They took him to Azkaban immediately. He's now locked away for sure."

Remus closed his eyes. He felt suddenly tired, very tired and old beyond his years. "I loved him," he said quietly.

The other man nodded. "I know."

"I loved him," Remus repeated, "and I would have given my life for him. I trusted him with everything in me. There was no way I would ever have suspected him for being a... traitor."

"You loved James, Remus," Severus said, sitting quietly next to him. "You loved the real James. The Marauder who would pull pranks, joke, fool around with nothing to fear and nothing to care about. And you loved the more mature James, the one who loved you, who proposed to you, who married you. You didn't love the traitor, Remus, you never did. You didn't love the murderer."

"That's true," the werewolf replied softly. "But when my James became a monster, I lost the man I loved just as well as I would have if somebody had stuck a knife into his heart."

"Or casted Avada Kedarva on him," the Slytherin added quietly, a trace of bitterness evident in his voice.

Remus turned slowly to face him. He noticed the skin that was even paler than usual, the dark, emotional eyes, the tight line of the thin lips. He saw the strained wrinkles in the corners of the other young man's eyes, he saw the forced calm mask on the well-controlled face.

The werewolf didn't say anything. He just wrapped his arms around the taller man, holding him close.

Severus Snape-Black did something Remus had never seen him to do. The Slytherin simply broke down, hiding his face into Remus's shoulder, grasping tightly on the back of the fairer man's robes. He cried for all feelings he'd used to hide inside, cried for every little thing that had been said and done and left unsaid or undone. He cried for all the things that had been planned but would never be, for midnight rides that would never come, even for the pitter-patter of tiny feet that would never be heard.

Remus cried too, the once drained tears coming back to him, and for a moment they both just cried into each other's shoulders until they were empty and drained to the bottom of their hearts.

At last Remus let go and drew backwards. He looked into Severus's face, where the beetle-black eyes were now shadowed with red from all the crying. He knew that Severus had needed this, that he'd needed to leave out all the tension and fear and sorrow about the War, deaths, betrayals, and now the death of his husband.

He also knew that it might take a long time, possibly forever, before he'd ever see Severus dropping his mask like that.

Remus himself would cry, he knew that all too well. Every night he'd cry himself to sleep, sob into his pillow until it would be wet from his tears and he'd have to dry it before he could sleep on it. He'd cry for all forgotten plans, all broken promises; all little signs of love he'd wonder about to the end of his days, not knowing whether they were true or just lies. He would cry for the man he lost, the man whom he had thought he knew but hadn't known, not really.

But Severus wouldn't cry, not anymore. He would maintain his mask of calm and coolness, even harshness, since that was what he needed. The mask was what kept Severus whole and safe. Even at school, he'd been withdrawn and quiet, until one day, he'd fallen in love with Sirius Black. And Sirius Black had fallen in love with him. Sirius had been the only person around whom Severus would ever be at ease, the only one who truly got past that mask and saw the real Severus. Even his other friends would only see short glimpses, little hints of what this man was and what he could be.

Remus knew that on this one moment of shared sorrow he'd seen more than he could ever see again, and he was grateful for the trust Severus had given him.

They sat there for some time. Then Severus spoke up, "Where is he?"

There was no question about what he meant. Remus stood without a word and led him to the next room, which was James's study -- or used to be, he corrected himself silently. There, in a tiny cradle he'd transfigured from a chair, Harry Pettigrew slept peacefully without knowing a thing about the sadness and grief around him.

"He's so little," Severus said quietly. "He doesn't understand."

"No, he doesn't," Remus replied sadly. "And he won't remember, either. Only what we tell him about his parents, he'll know."

"Right..." Severus walked slowly to the cradle. Then, with the gentle hands of a pianist or a Potions Master, being the latter himself, of course, he lifted the tiny baby onto his arms, careful not to wake him up. He studied the boy for a moment, allowing the tip of his long finger trace light patterns on the tiny, round face.

At last, he sighed, placed a very uncharacteristical kiss on baby Harry's forehead, and put him back to the cradle. "The Boy Who Lived," he said blankly, not to anyone in particular. "He'll be a celebrity, Remus. You know that. Not half a year old yet, and everybody will think that he's their hero."

"I know," the werewolf replied just as emotionlessly.

"We would have wanted a baby, you know," Severus said offhandedly, changing the topic with seemingly no problem at all. "At least later, when the War would have been over. We had a bit of fight as of which one of us would carry it, but we were unanimous about the fact that we would have a child. More than one, even."

Remus didn't say anything. He knew that Severus had to get this all out of him, just like he'd had to let the tears out when they filled him. It was probable that Severus would never again discuss these things with him, or with anybody else. The man was just emptying himself of everything, letting all the pressure get out so he could put his mask on the place again. And Remus let him.

"Sirius always wanted a little boy. One who'd carry on the Marauders' reputation. A playmate for little Harry, even, if they weren't too far away in age. He'd have named our son Matthew, just because he liked the name. Matthew Joseph Snape-Black."

Still, Remus kept quiet. He sat on one of the remaining chairs, listening as the taller man went on with his ranting.

"I, myself, wanted a girl. A little girl, with black hair, blue eyes, and rosy lips. One who'd have looked just like Sirius, so she'd been the prettiest girl around. She'd also been intelligent, the girl. Maybe she'd kept Matthew in line. Her name - well, I never quite chose a name for her. But maybe Sirina. Yes, Sirina, that's a pretty name. Sirina Helen Snape-Black, she'd been."

The pacing got faster and faster. The blank, empty voice flew over Remus, washing his mind of all other thoughts.

"Like usually, Sirius wasn't able to wait," Severus continued. "He didn't have the patience to wait until the war was over, so he'd taken the potion without telling me."

Remus was beginning to feel really, really bad now. He stood and opened his mouth to speak, but the other man silenced him with a curt gesture of his hand.

"Sirius told me yesterday," the Slytherin said hoarsely, with an almost fevery glint in his eyes. "He was two months pregnant. With my child." He stopped on his place abruptly. "He was pregnant, and James killed him. He didn't only kill Sirius, but our baby also."

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