Lost on the Border at Twilight

Lost on the border at twilight - Part One- Ave Atque Vale

Chapter Three

"Severus, then." Albus paused, but had not finished. "You never answered as to why you lied to me."

*'~,*'~,*'~,*'~,*

And what does one say to that? Refutation? Perhaps. Whether it was the wisest choice, it was what I did.

Sitting tensely, trying to focus as the House Elves darted around the table serving what looked to be seasoned bread with a vegetable broth. Sitting near the head, I had already been served - and whatever I had to say for the witch who had been my childhood tutor, because of her, my manners were above reproach, and etiquette required me to wait until all were served. My stomach growled, and I flushed. Albus cleared his throat, and I was drawn back to the present.

"Erm, yes." Normally I was never without a reply, but this I didn't know how to answer. "I don't believe I've ever lied to you. Unless you're meaning that time in my fourth year when I-" Dumbledore interrupted me, and inwardly I smirked. I knew what he meant.

"You told me you had no interest in a Potions Career."

"Ah. That." My mind raced to what seemed the only possible answer. "I don't regard I lied in that. Even now I have no immediate plans to work as a Potions Master. But as a qualification, it's a valuable one to have. Think of it as furthering a sideline diversion. And," I added carefully. "If all else fails..."

He looked sceptical, unbelieving, but at that moment I cared little.

Jean Borcileaux had taken his first mouthful, and signalled the start of the course - and I had not eaten since Lunch the previous day, and that was the first meal in a while as well. I knew that the Potion Master wasn't truly trying to deprive me of food - though if he was he was extremely successful - but simply an apprenticeship was full time study in a way that I could not have imagined when at Hogwarts.

Now, for this food. I had the first morsel of bread forked, and almost to my mouth, when I was interrupted, and forced to put my meal on hold again.

I grimaced - Albus was speaking while chewing, an absolute atrocity albeit a widespread one.

"You know, Severus, I can tell when you're not telling the entire truth. You're good, but not that good." I glared less than subtly, and I was satisfied to see him stop his prattle. Good, I thought - glad to see I hadn't lost my touch entirely.

Finally I was able to sate my fill of the food. Despite my hunger, it didn't take long to be satisfied. I had read somewhere that those who had been starved, even when they had food, would not eat all they needed to recover. But I was happy being the angular figure that I was. As happy as I ever was, except for when brewing potions in the labs.

I noted the expression on my other dinner neighbour. Brutus Black, having followed the whole exchange and my struggle to get to eat, had a smirk on his face to rival any of mine. Turning to him, he pretended innocence, and focused on the current course - some sort of fish pate that my overwrought system could not stomach. I looked back to Albus, then past him. Was there anyone else I knew?

My gaze fell finally on a certain Draco Malfoy - Lucius' older brother, and just about mentor to my school friend. Later he was the uncle of Lucius' son, who he was of course named after. It is a great pity they never met. Draco Malfoy Snr. was a fine man. But for now, he was too far down the table for me to do anything but nod to. I doubted I would know anyone else - apart from maybe a gathering or two at the Snape Manor. I was forced to turn back to Dumbledore - a wizard who was certainly never a guest at Snape Manor.

"So how are you finding your studies under Borcileaux? Many would say he is a difficult man to work with, but I daresay you would have your own opinion on that?"

"I daresay," I drawled, painstakingly deliberate. "I daresay I would. Very few know Jean Borcileaux other than as a name on a very prestigious order form. I, though, as his first, and -only- apprentice know him better than most, would you not agree?" I was pleased to see the Headmaster taken aback. "Of course you agree. Jean is a tremendous teacher - the best in the field without a doubt. Yet even so, we work side-by-side almost as equals. He has a manner very British, and teaches superbly without patronising."

Albus took a moment to answer, and inwardly I grimaced. Difficult old man, indeed. I wondered which lucky soul my tardiness that morning had saved from this fate.

"Ah. Well, I'm glad you're enjoying yourself. Wouldn't want to let such talent go to waste, now would we?"

At that moment, I wanted nothing less than to take a leaf from Bellatrix and slap the old man. In our third year she had gone and done just that - he was still only Transfiguration Professor at that time, but she still ended up with a week of detentions. I could not remember her reason, but she had become an instant celebrity in the Commons - Albus Dumbledore has never been that much of a success in the Slytherin quarter of the school.

But I could not slap him, not here. I swore to myself that I refused to die until I'd had the chance to duel Albus Dumbledore, but even as I did, I answered, with an almost civil snarl.

"Of course not. I'm sure -we- have something in mind for it, in any case." I glared at the Headmaster even as I said it. "Not that I'm expecting a divulgement." No, indeed not. Please don't. However Albus Dumbledore was not, at any stage, a mind reader - though at times, it has always seemed as if he was.

"Well, now that you mention it-" I groaned audibly. Why couldn't I keep my big mouth shut? Despite his great talent and insight in so many areas, he's never understood the art of sarcasm, irony, cynicism - or the faculty of sadism. Not being -entirely- blind, on the other hand, the old man sensed my reaction, and looked at me reproachfully.

"Really, Severus, you are being most discourteous. Is there nothing to talk to you about that will not receive your displeasure and sarcasm?" Oh, how I wanted to hit him. Hard.

"Sarcasm is just one more service I offer."

His eyes narrowed. Ha. At least I could still get a reaction. Dumbledore was human, after all.

"Yes, well, as Marianne Moore said, 'we are suffering from too much sarcasm'."

No such thing of course, in my opinion - but if he wanted to play quotes war, well, then, I could comply.

"'Complaining is good for you as long as you are not complaining to the person you are complaining about.' Lynn Johnston." Ha.

"'Nothing is stronger than habit.' Ovid."

Swapping quotes was a game that Lucius and I had played. Anthony had neither the memory nor the wits to keep up with us, and Bellatrix was little interested. But it fascinated both of us. Much more intellectual than the others, and we both valued mind-power much higher than physical strength. In that Anthony was different. But Lucius and I trained our minds for hours finding quotes, fighting quotes, reciting quotes, and when all else failed, writing quotes... I decided to turn this war around.

"'Be careful - with quotations, you can damn anything.'" I paused, but then attributed it. "Andre Malraux." I almost expected the old man to concede, but I underestimated him. His eyes filled with a mischievous gleam.

"'A fine quotation is a diamond on the finger of a man of wit, and a pebble in the hand of a fool.' Joseph Roux."

I wondered briefly with whom Dumbledore usually exchanged thus. I was impressed, but that was no matter. Lucius and I could go on for much further.

"'Talk sense to a fool, and he calls you foolish.' Euripides."

Albus paused for a moment, and once again, I thought I glimpsed victory. But once again, at the last moment, he quoted again. Damn him and his eternity of reading.

"'I'm very pleased with each advancing year. It stems back to when I was forty. I was a bit upset about reaching that milestone, but an older friend consoled me. Don't complain about growing old, he said. For many, many people do not have that privilege.' Earl Warren."

If it had been Lucius, I would have pointed out the blatant change of topic. But as it was, I did not. Could not. On we go.

"'The surprising thing about young fools is how many survive to become old fools.' Doug Larson." I looked pointedly at him. Another pause as he tried to come up with a suitable rejoinder.

"'Before you contradict an old man, my fair friend, you should endeavour to understand him.'" I waited for him to attribute it, but he seemed to be struggling. So, with a smirk, I filled in.

"George Santayana."

The strangest expression crossed his face as I said the name, and he looked at me as if seeing me for the first time.

"All that matters to you is winning, isn't it, Severus? Winning, and getting what you want? But will you always win on your own terms?"

I eyed him suspiciously. No one had said anything like that to me before, and I didn't know what to make of it. I didn't think that I liked it. This wasn't part of the game. A tense moment passed, and I opened my mouth to speak - but before I could, the instant passed, and the Headmaster spoke again.

"Never mind, young man. I don't know what brought that on. I concede, I concede. As to quotes, I concede to your superiority."

With anyone else, I would have smirked, and felt superior. Probably would have clinched the whole damn affair with a cutting quote of my own. But with him? Well, I didn't feel superior. I was feeling that guilty unease that you get when you've just kicked an innocent animal - when you've thrown a kitten over to the other side of the room. When you should feel supercilious and important - but you don't. I felt like I'd kicked a cat. Damn him.

As it was, I felt the strange need yet again to explain myself. I had done nothing wrong, but once more blurted out useless details that Dumbledore had no business knowing.

"That is an exercise Lucius and I played at." We did more than play at it, of course. "It is always beneficial to know others' thoughts, even apart from the advantage in such a game. We were both very evenly matched. Neither of us would let the other one win."

The Headmaster gave me a sad look that once again made me feel uncomfortable. I felt I had disappointed him.

"So talented... So bright... Will it ever be enough for you? What will you do to go further? How much of yourself will you sacrifice?"

For a moment I thought that he had somehow found out about my servitude to He Who Must Not Be Named - but I reassured myself that that could not be so. But was uneasy at the foreboding tone to his words. He could see something in me, something he did not like. Something he thought would be my future. Well, damn him, damn him forever. What he saw, I knew, was not my future. It was my past. My present. But it worried me that he could see through to parts of me I did not want seen. The last time I had let myself become at all transparent had ended in tears - mine among them.

*'~,*'~,*'~,*'~,*

B.B had been worried about me - she always was, for that matter. But this time, just maybe, there was something in it. For whatever reason, I had wanted to be alone. I was always a solitary creature, but for this evening in my sixth year, I had sought seclusion in the Astronomy tower. At this time of year, it was often haunted as the rendezvous of lovers, but a single glance from me sent always even the most passionate pair packing.

I had done the unthinkable - I had asked a girl to the Yule Ball. It being I, all other students would have thought it bad enough, but it was worse. I, a Slytherin, had asked a Gryffindor - and not one of Pureblood.

But it will be no surprise to you to know that I was rebuked for my troubles. She had already a date. And, it will also be no surprise to you, by now, I am sure, for the girl's identity. Lily. Of course. The most lovely and charming lass of our year, and I, the most repulsive young man of Hogwarts, had dared approach to ask her. We had been friendly, to an extent, and she the only girl I had any respect for, bar Bellatrix, of course. And I had been refused. It was no surprise to anyone who knew, I suppose. But that said, I was bitter and angry.

I had only been there for a matter of minutes when a noise disturbed my silence. I growled almost audibly in displeasure, but the intruder seemed not to notice me. However, when -I- realised the identity of my interruption, I could not help but groan, and the young man turned and saw me. Remus Lupin. Potter's friend, but the only one in their little clique with the smallest shred of decency.

"Snape?!"

His eyebrows rose in a style that even Lucius would have envied. He wiped his nose on the side of his sleeve, then, just about to counter, I cut myself short. Remus' eyes were blood-shot and swollen, and his manner hunched over. While a much gentler personality than his closest friends, I knew it would take much to reduce this Gryffindor to such a quivering wreck - and unlike Potter, I knew when sarcasm was inappropriate. I rose to speak to him more civilly, but as I did, he collapsed before me into a shuddering heap of robes and limbs. I bit back a mocking comment, and knelt beside him.

"Lupin? What has occurred? Is there anything I can do to alleviate your distress?"

I knew nothing about the art of comforting - let alone comforting someone I knew so slightly. That was always Ebony's forte, not mine. And as for Remus, I did not expect any elucidation - I would never blurt out anything private, no matter how disturbed I was. But as he wept before me, I caught a few words.

"...not fair...hate him...why her...mother...she's dead."

I sat back on my haunches at this revelation. I thought to what I knew of the mother that I had never known. Then I thought of Ebony, and tried to imagine losing her.

"Dear Merlin, Remus, I'm sorry."

Two teary brown eyes looked up at me, unbelieving and incredulous. His voice broken but harsh, he whispered. "You have no idea, snake - how could you?!"

For once I had no scornful comment for him. In perfect sincerity, I spoke softly. "I never knew my own mother," His eyes met mine. "but my sister, I cannot imagine her gone."

He broke down again, and I put my hand to his shoulder. We stayed there all night, a mix of his tears, silence, and some sparse talk. But what talk we spoke, we spoke as equals. There was an unsaid truce, and unspoken understanding.

In later days, he gave me a few shy smiles, though neither of us approached the other. And yet, we seemed to have reached a level of neutrality that astounded all others. It did not seem Remus had told even his closest friends about his mother. Only I, encountering him at his weakest moment - and I told no one.

But it was not to last. Mayhaps in an endeavour to cheer their bleak friend, Black and Potter played their worst hoax ever to me, almost costing my life. Remus, the Werewolf, had not tried to stop them, and after that, our night of companionship seemed to have been forgotten. He never smiled at me again.

Then came the aforesaid Yule Ball. I was dateless, of course - Bellatrix tried to console me with her promise of at least three dances - but by then I cared little for that. She was attending with Anthony, of course, and Lucius with a pretty Hufflepuff. However, when the night came, my lack of partner became more personal. Lily, my most wanted date, attended with the Werewolf.

She had not already accepted an offer when I asked her, it turned out. But after I had invited her, and she claimed she had, for whatever reason, for an excuse, she had persuaded Lupin to attend with her. But he had known. I had told him, that night, of her refusal to me. And then, after my moonlit sympathy, he had taken her as his date. From that night, I hated him. Hated. Loathed. Reviled, and abhorred. But in the early hours of the morning that found me once again up at the tower, I cried, sobbed and wept, at injustice and betrayal.

I had never been one to let on about my inner self - but after that, there was much that I kept even from Bellatrix and Anthony - even from Lucius himself.

*'~,*'~,*'~,*'~,*

The rest of the many courses passed reasonably without event, though every time I tried to extract myself from conversation with this 'difficult old man', I would be dragged back in. Borcileaux, I could see, was watching the whole affair with a smirk on his face. He was right that this would be an unforgettable lesson on why not to be late - but I wondered if he knew just -how- effective a lesson it would be, and if he -did-, then by Hell's bells, how'd he know that?

In the few moments I was able to get any peace or freedom, I asked Brutus Black what Bellatrix had been doing these last six months since graduation.

"Preparing for th' wedding, o' course. You know what women are like." He leant over to me, and whispered slyly. "We've got Madame Molez, the grand wedding organiser, to organise of course - but Bella and she have this big dispute at the momen'."

I smirked. It was so like B.B, wanting the best, and then trying to improve it.

"See, Molez says the dress must be white - tradition, you know. Bellatrix wants black. Molez says that if she insists on it -not- being white, then with Bella's colouring, it should be red. But no. Bella wants black. Says that if tradition wants the couple in contrasting outfits of black and white, Anthony can wear the white. That's the closest to a compromise that she's prepared to give." We both laughed. So very, -very- like Bellatrix Black.

He gave me a nudge. "And what about you, hmm? Has she been keeping you updated on her plans for -your- attire?"

I blinked, and stared. My attire? "She's not planning to coordinate the dress of all her guests, is she? Surely not."

Brutus laughed. "Not her guests, no - but of course, the wedding party! The best man and groomsman will have their every detail premeditated - not to mention the bridesmaids and maid-of-honour."

I froze. Of course. I had forgotten that little fact to do with the Wedding. Anthony had briefly mentioned to Lucius and I some months ago that he'd like one of us to be best man, and the other groomsman. He'd not been too particular about which - said that he'd leave it up to Bellatrix to arrange. And only a week ago, she'd flooed me - in the middle of the night, I might add - and asked if I'd be best man. Of course, I'd accepted. But in my exhaustion, I'd forgotten it. I hadn't spoken to Lucius since, and I was anxious that he wouldn't be jealous...

Mr Black continued. "Though don't give her any ideas, or she -will- plan all the guest's attire."

But I wasn't worried about that... "Erm, sir, will I have to make a speech? As best man?"

"Course you will! Surely you'd not forgotten? Ye know, there's only one problem with being best man, and that's that you never get to prove it, eh Severus?"

I blushed at his less than subtle innuendo, but was prevented from answering by a nudge from Dumbledore. Right, I thought. Back to work...

"What about you, Severus? Is there a special lady you're going to join hands with sometime soon? Wouldn't want to be left behind by your peers, now would you?"

I flushed a deep scarlet. This was going to be a very long night. But he went on...

"I remember when my younger brother married... this was after that incident with the goat... did I ever tell you..."

*'~,*'~,*'~,*'~,*

Some hours later, when all the food was gone, the tables slid swiftly to the walls. I groaned inwardly. I had been to such a gathering before, and I knew what this meant. On cue, the string quartet which previously had been playing a concerto finished hastily and started up again with a suite - starting with a Minuet. Dancing. Wonderful. Lucius had commented that a ball was the only time that girls would want anything to do with me, for I was one of the few young men who could dance. Not that it ever turned out to be enough incentive at Hogwarts. But at such a gathering as this, as soon as my skill became clear, my personality seemed irrelevant. Borcileaux found this exceedingly amusing, and I had no doubt that Dumbledore would also. Ebony had taught me how to dance in the summer leading up to our first Yule Ball - not that it mattered, really - Bellatrix was the only girl who ever danced with me there, and she insisted on leading. Ebony had been quite the dancer- she had loved things like that, and father was only too pleased to have her taught. He groomed her to be the perfect bride. She was a wonderful teacher, and I learnt well to please her.

*'~,*'~,*'~,*'~,*

"Now, Sev, put your hand here, and here." I watched my sister in awe; her sudden grace was dazzling.

"Tilly, could you start the music? Thankyou."

Slow haunting notes filled the room. The piano sang, and this, the most beautiful music I had ever heard made me want to cry. The Moonlight Sonata. Many Purebloods will not believe that such evocative music could have been written without magic - but Muggle or not, it was exquisite.

"Come, now, move towards Tilly, steady, steady - bend towards me. Now, still, but spin me..."

For short minutes that felt like hours, we lived in this music, flowed with this music, breathed with this music - danced in this music. Her commands came like thoughts of my own, and it was the most natural thing in the world, there in the empty ballroom.

At last the final heart shattering, tragic chords were played, and Ebony and I came to a halt. I was speechless.

"Very good," she said softly. "But it needs to be a little more controlled. Let's try that again."

*'~,*'~,*'~,*'~,*

As I sat contemplating, a fair-haired girl approached me. It took me a moment, but I recognised her. Alice Peters. A Hufflepuff from the same Hogwarts year. Soon to become Alice Longbottom, or so I had heard from one report by Filch. And yet, for all her attitudes against me from school, and her upcoming match, it didn't stop her from giving me more than flirtatious looks.

"Severus!" Her flushed face was predatory, and my instincts were telling me to flee. However...

"Miss Peters - though for how long, may I ask? When do you leave that name behind?" Hell's Bells to courtesy, a habit -so- hard to throw off. Hopefully, it would be a less than subtle hint to keep her eyes to her fiancé.

The girl giggled shamelessly. Plan A, failed. Damn. Onto Plan B. Tink. I didn't have a Plan B. Damn.

"Oh you heard, you little sneak. I thought I had it all hush-hush - Frank must have told you, right? I didn't realise you were in touch with him." She looked at me slyly, and I winced. I? In touch with that Gryffindor? Not very likely. But what was I to say? A squib has been keeping me up to date?

"If you're friends with Frank, then you'll be coming to the wedding?" she continued. Panic. Quick. What to say.

"Erm. Probably not. I'm rather busy here, you see..." She stopped my rambling with a hand to my shoulder. Bad touch.

"Dance with me, Severus?"

"I don't dance." It was worth a try. Or not.

"Yes, you do. I remember the dances from Hogwarts. True you really only ever danced with that Black girl, but you were quite the attraction, if I remember correctly." When had girls become this forward??

Alice led me out onto the dance floor, and dutifully I put my hands to her slim waist. A new piece started, and I closed my eyes as we started to dance. You may be surprised, but I actually enjoyed dancing. This sort of dancing, anyway. Classy. Sophisticated. Of course I tried to ignore the fact that my partner was a Hufflepuff, and a rather foolish -engaged- one at that. I tried to imagine it was my sister, but as I felt my heart come into my throat I squashed that image from my mind.

"You're quite charming, Severus Snape." She said softly. "And quite the dancer."

I smirked. "Don't tell anyone. I have a reputation, you know."

Seeing my civility, I suppose, as a good sign, she crossed the line of politeness into personal questions. "Why were you never this fun to be around at school? Why were you always so mean? And why," she continued, "don't you have a girl, yourself? Because no one would have you?" She said, jokingly.

I stiffened, and my eyes chilled. The girl had gone too far.

"Maybe for the same reason that -you-, two months before your own wedding, are -here- flirting with someone that you would never have passed the time of day with at Hogwarts? Frank not good enough for you, hmm? Or are his interests moving elsewhere? Either way, I'm not sure that I'm greatly surprised. Or maybe for the reason that with you as an example and Bellatrix the only exception for the norm of the opposite sex?"

"If I wanted anything to do with you, it'd be lacing your tea with poison." Alice snapped, her face suddenly flushed.

"Trust me, if -I- wanted anything to do with -you- I'd drink it." I pulled away from her and stormed back to my seat. Dumbledore, who was -still- sitting there opened his mouth to speak to me, but seeing the murderous expression on my face, he stopped, shut his mouth, and then turned his attention to his other neighbour.

Brutus had been watching, it appeared.

"That Peters girl is a disgrace, is she not?"

He looked sympathetically towards me, but I simply narrowed my eyes.

"Alright, maybe I could have warned you - but where would be the fun in -that-? Besides," he added, "what could you have done?"

I sighed. "Nothing."

"She's gone from bad to worse since she left Hogwarts, or so the younger coven tell me." Brutus commented, using a not uncommon epithet in the Magical World for the younger generation. I wondered whether he knew of the girl's upcoming marriage. I mentioned it, and was pleased to see the older mage's eyebrows rise in surprised curiosity.

"Really? Severus, you must tell me-" He raised his hands for emphasis. "If the coven find out that I missed such important -gossip-, they will have me staked and burnt."

Laughing easily for the first time that night, I teased the poor wizard a little. "Dear me, are you so out of touch, that I, a lowly apprentice, isolated in this -grim- manor, should be more in the loop?"

He narrowed his eyes, but the corners of his mouth were upturned.

"Why you little-"

I gave in.

"Frank Longbottom."

"Ha! Are you serious??" Brutus exclaimed, making unwitting reference to the oft-repeated and altogether lame pun on his erstwhile son's name.