Be All My Secrets Remembered

Chapter Eight: The World Wags On

September 1976

Lily shivered as the chill of the dungeons hit her. She ought to have been used to it by now, having spent enough time there during her previous five years at Hogwarts, but somehow it kept catching her off-guard.

"I've been applying for a tower room for years now," the familiarly accented tones of Professor Agrippa floated from behind the table at the front of the room, "but everyone insists that dungeons are the only place where one can safely conduct a Potions lecture. I can understand their concerns, but surely one could allow for heated floors?" He stood up, a tall and rather gaunt man with a beard as long and grey as Professor Dumbledore's. "How may I help you, Miss Evans?"

"I...I didn't mean to disturb you, Professor," Lily ventured, stepping into the room. "I was just looking for Severus Snape."

"Ah, yes. He should be here any moment." Wiping his hands on a towel, he emerged from behind the table and moved closer. "Were you expecting him?"

"Well, I wanted to speak to him, and he's usually either here or in the Slytherin Common Room. And considering I can't get in there..." she trailed off with a shrug. "But if you're supposed to meet with him, sir, I can come back later."

"No, no, that's hardly necessary. I was in the midst of a very complex experiment and I had him take over the first-year Hufflepuff and Slytherin lecture. Anything I have to say can certainly wait until after you've finished..." he glanced up as the young man in question stepped into the room. "Ah, Severus! Miss Evans was looking for you."

"Mi--" He broke off, eyes fixing instantly on the floor. "Lily Evans."

"Severus Snape," Lily grinned. "You didn't tell me you were teaching first-year potions."

"I'm not..." He glanced warily at Professor Agrippa, who merely shrugged. "Well, I'm not really. Just this once."

"Did it go so badly?" enquired the professor.

"No, it didn't. It went perfectly well. I just..." he bit his lip, "I assumed you'd be taking the lecture over again, sir. That is all."

"Of course I will, but might you still be willing to do it occasionally? Or would you rather I shut you up in here with a long list of experiments? I'm entirely willing to do one or the other."

"I..."

"I think you should," Lily advised, hiding her smile behind her hand. "It speaks very highly of you that Professor Agrippa's willing to let you teach." She had the satisfaction of seeing Severus Snape's face flush to a deep crimson, and caught a wicked wink from Professor Agrippa. "You know you deserve it. You're only the best potion-maker I've ever met."

Severus shifted uncomfortably, ducking his head even further, such that his hair obscured his face almost entirely. It was slightly longer than Sirius', Lily observed, but had always hung lank and unwashed around his narrow face. "You're too kind, Miss Evans."

"Oh, don't call me that, Severus, please. You make me feel like a schoolmistress!" Lily stepped forward, bolder than she had intended, and took both his hands. He gave a convulsive shudder as she did so. "Your hands are freezing!"

"It's nothing, really," he dismissed, very much in the same manner as Sirius. Lily suppressed the urge to laugh. That particular resemblance was one that only an idiot with a death wish would feel compelled to point out. "Was there something...I mean...I didn't think you usually came down here."

"I don't," she shrugged. "I wanted to see you."

"Did you? I thought you'd thrown yourself in with Potter and Black and that lot." His lip curled into a sneer as he said the two names, and Lily flinched involuntarily.

She recovered quickly, however. "I don't throw myself in with anyone, Severus," she remarked, somewhat snippily, "and I don't see why people are assuming that, just because I sat with them on the train..."

"...and spent summer in Paris with Black?" he demanded, edging past her to drop his books on the nearest desk. Professor Agrippa's presence had apparently been forgotten as he spun back to face her, his robes swirling dramatically around him.

For several seconds, Lily was caught, unable to quite come up with one her usual sharp rejoinders. Her eyes widened slightly.

Whatever else one said about Severus Snape, Lily had to admit, he did have a knack for sweepingly graceful movements. Though now that she thought further on it, he wasn't the only one. Her time-blurred recollections of the icy blond Slytherin Prefect from her first year, Lucius Malfoy, and his girlfriend, fifth-year Prefect, Narcissa Black, were rounded with that particular trait. Not to mention Narcissa's darkly gorgeous sister Bellatrix, whose unfaltering eyes always gave the impression of looking straight through to your very thoughts. All Slytherin, all aristocratically pure of blood. The thought caused Lily's smile to falter until it occurred to her that Sirius did so as well, albeit with far less deliberation. Pure-blooded, maybe, but Gryffindor. That helped somewhat.

"We were in the same city. There are lots of people in Paris," she finally said, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "I don't see why you're so sore about it."

"Because he's a bloody arrogant bastard who sees the world as his personal playground and all others as his toys," he retorted, mirroring her movements as his eyes fixed on her face, unmoving. "I thought you knew that too."

"I do," she acknowledged. "It just so happens that my friend Kate is James Potter's girlfriend."

"And everyone's saying you're Black's new bird," he challenged. "Is that true?"

"Not in the least!" Lily exploded. "But if you're going to believe everything you hear, I suppose I shouldn't even bother talking to you." Turning on her heel, she moved to leave the room when she felt his hand grab hers. Spinning back, she demanded, "What?"

"I'm sorry," he muttered, eyes on their twined fingers. "That was rude of me. I didn't mean...I just...you know how things are between me and them."

"I do," she nodded slowly. "And I came here to tell you that nothing's changed. Black and I are speaking to one another again. That's all. Nothing has changed."

Despite looking like he desperately wanted to argue the point, Severus nodded. "If you say nothing's changed, then nothing's changed." As if he had only just realised he was still holding her hand, he let it go, stepping back. "Was there...anything else?"

"Well..." Lily hesitated before continuing, "I wanted to know if you might give me a hand with N.E.W.T. Potions, maybe once a week or something. Besides," she added archly, "it'd be nice to see you once in a while. You do tend to ignore me in public."

He bit his lip again, harder this time. "I don't mean to...it just seems safer that way."

"True. Your friends wouldn't approve of me any more than Black and Potter would approve of you," she replied tartly. "Don't think I don't hear what Avery and Rosier call me behind my back." Suddenly, her eyes narrowed. "Your lip's bleeding, Severus."

"Is it?" he asked absently, raising one hand to his mouth. "Oh."

"You really shouldn't do that," she advised. "At least not over something this silly. Don't worry too much. I can always ask Sirius for help, you know."

"No!" he exploded, trying his best not to glare as she began to laugh. "That wasn't fair."

"Of course it wasn't. That, Severus, was the point," Lily grinned. "Which evenings are good for you?"

"I...Thursdays," he said quickly, as if to get the words out before he changed his mind. "Thursdays at...eight o'clock?"

"Sounds perfect," she replied, offering him an exaggerated curtsey. "I'll see you then, Mister Snape." And with that, she vanished through the door, leaving Severus staring after her in complete bewilderment.

From behind him, he could hear Professor Agrippa's chuckle. "A clever girl. Knows her weapons well, that one."

"I'd have helped her one way or the other," protested Severus weakly. "I would have, Professor."

"I don't doubt it. But it got her the answer she wanted immediately. She's not one for waiting," he observed. "Even I've noticed that."

"Seems a trait common to Gryffindors," his assistant remarked, though without his usual overlay of scorn. He merely sounded thoughtful, his eyes still on the space where Lily had just stood, a curiously speculative expression on his face. "They don't understand that patience is a virtue."

"The world needs all kinds, Severus," the Potions Master pointed out. "I do hope you understand that as well as you should."

Severus turned around, regarding the professor with some puzzlement. "What do you mean, sir?"

"Your compatriots--Mr Avery, Mr Wilkes, and those others--would have our world segregated by blood. These are dangerous times, Severus. I think you know that as well as anyone else," the older man sighed. "Do I have problems with things as they stand? Yes. But I do not believe Lord Voldemort has the right answer either."

"What would your answer be, Professor Agrippa?" asked Severus softly.

"I am an idealist, Severus. I will not deny that. I have always liked theocracy, government by the wise, but I accept the limitations. Who are we to judge who is wise and who is not?" In a manner not unlike that of Professor Dumbledore, he threw up his hands in a gesture of defeat. "The Headmaster and I see eye to eye on that particular point, but he is no doubt the only one who agrees with me. The Ministry certainly does not."

Severus said nothing, instead fidgeting with one of his sleeves.

"Severus, I myself am only half-blooded," he stated, studying his student's face. "Does that affect the way in which you view me?"

"No, it..." Severus began, the words tumbling over one another in an effort to escape as quickly as possible. "You're one of the most accomplished potion-makers in the world, sir, you and Monsieur Flamel. I can't possibly...it..."

"It's not easy for you, Severus. I understand that." Reaching out, he laid one hand on the young man's shoulder. "The world is not black-and-white. It never has been, nor will it ever be."

Severus looked up at him, his usually unreadable face caught between several conflicting expressions. "It was, once."

"Of course it was. I know your parents, what they would have told you. More specifically what your father would have told you." At that, Severus stiffened, but Agrippa continued, relentless, "I know you do not view the world as simply as he did, young man. You cannot possibly do so and be as adept with potions as you are. But please, I must ask you not to use Lord Voldemort's philosophies as an attempt to simplify what cannot be simplified."

When Severus looked him in the eye again, the mask had fallen. His eyes were opaque, shadowed with innumerable secrets. "I would not presume to do such a thing, Professor."

Agrippa let him go, but reluctantly. As the billowing robes disappeared around the corner, he sighed. "That wasn't what I meant."

***

Within several weeks, even the first-years had settled into some sort of routine. The sixth-year students had as well, albeit with slightly more to do. Much to Lily's relief, the gossip seemed to have died down in the sudden onrush of schoolwork, leaving her free to speak to whomever she pleased without fear of whispers and surreptitious glares.

The first Quidditch match of the year was between Slytherin and Hufflepuff, and it was after that match (a hairsplitting win by Hufflepuff, who swiftly acknowledged that they would almost definitely have lost, had it not been for the sun in the eyes of the Slytherin Seeker, preventing him from seeing the Snitch) that Andromeda Black Tonks, the former Hufflepuff Chaser, appeared beside her younger cousin.

"You look well," she remarked somewhat archly as she embraced him. "I've heard some very interesting things about you, cousin mine."

"I don't doubt it," Sirius replied, kissing her on the cheek. "How are you?"

"Oh, don't you go changing the subject. I had a truly fascinating letter from Eliane Raimbaut a few weeks ago. I didn't know you'd grown into a Don Juan, Sirius."

He cracked a smile. "I'm sure I have no idea what you mean."

"And I'm quite sure you do, you rascal. Leather and motorbikes and mysterious red-haired women?" She shook her head with mock consternation. "What sort of influence will you have on my poor daughter? She's absolutely insistent on seeing you again."

"How is Tonks junior?" he enquired, biting back laughter at the suddenly indignant glare issuing forth from Andromeda's dark eyes. "You can't expect me not to do it. You absolutely had to give her the most awful name known to man- and wizard-kind."

"I certainly wasn't about to name her after a constellation!"

"So you named her Nymphadora? It sounds like she ought to spend the rest of her life in a tower waiting for a prince named Florio or something equally ridiculous. A few more years, Andromeda. Mark my words, when she goes to primary school, she'll hate you," he warned.

"Nymphadora is a perfectly nice name," Andromeda protested. "It suits her."

"Lady Nymphadora of the Sandpit?" Sirius suggested, ducking the swat headed his way. "I've promised her a ride on the motorbike the next time I see her, by the way. I thought I ought to warn you."

"You...what?" she gaped. "You will do no such thing. She's not even three!"

"What sort of rascally uncle would I be if I didn't?" he laughed. "I'm supposed to let her do everything you don't let her do. Come now, don't you trust me?"

"Not as far as I could throw you, imp," retorted Andromeda. Then, after a few seconds, she enquired, "In all sincerity, dear, how are you?"

He shrugged. "Well enough. I'm taking a few extra subjects, so things have been busy. Though James and I do have an idea for..."

"Don't tell me, please. I'd feel obliged to pass the word on to a teacher. I'm supposed to be a responsible adult these days," she sighed. "You've not heard from anyone have you?"

"You mean Mother?" He shook his head. "I didn't expect to. She's not known for going back on her word."

"She also hasn't been particularly rational since your father died. Sirius..."

"Are you suggesting I speak to her again? You of all people?" he demanded, incredulous. "After she called you a filthy whore and a blood traitor in the middle of Father's funeral?"

Andromeda hesitated, as if looking for the right words. "Truly, Sirius, I don't blame her for that. Nobody expected your father to die the way he did. Or when he did. We all thought he was indestructible...I'm sure Aunt Lavinia felt the same way. She loved him...as we all did."

"That's no excuse. I told her so, you know. I told her she was behaving disgracefully."

"I'm sure she appreciated that," Andromeda remarked with a roll of her eyes. "Sirius, whatever else you may be, you're her son..."

"...something she finds thoroughly regrettable and unfortunate," he finished. "She's made that abundantly clear."

"You truly don't understand, do you?" Andromeda asked softly. When he looked at her, she explained, "Sirius, you look exactly like your father did at that age. My mother had photographs of him and it's really quite uncanny. You're just...you were close and it shows, really. The way you speak, even the way you move. It's truly no wonder Aunt Lavinia can't bear..." she broke off, as if losing track of the words.

"I'm not going back," he told her, voice implacable. "I don't know why you're telling me this."

"I don't either," his cousin admitted with a rueful smile. "Except that I have absolutely no reason to be charitable toward Aunt Lavinia and somehow I feel awful for her. For one thing, she's stuck in that horrible house with your little brother. There's a circle of Hell like that, I'm sure."

Sirius laughed, the sound as unexpected for him as it must have been for Andromeda. "He's at Durmstrang. I think Mother decided he was just as unbearable as we all thought, and that she needed to send him as far away as possible."

"Sirius, I'm not asking you to go back. I'd know better than anyone else how unbearable our family can be, and God knows I'm not speaking to any of them. Narcissa didn't even invite me to the wedding, and I was the one she came to every time things with Malfoy went sour..."

"You know how she is," Sirius temporised. "She likes to think that if she ignores something long enough, it'll go away. She's always been like that."

"Has she spoken to you since?"

He shook his head. "I didn't expect her to. I know Narcissa well enough for that. After all, she's the wife of Lucius Malfoy now. Can't be associated with a ne'er-do-well like me."

There was a twinge of regret in his voice, one Andromeda instantly noted. "How did she...Sirius, was she happy?"

"She seemed it," he ventured. "Whatever else one might say, they look dazzling together. That alone probably made her happy." With a faint smile, "It was spectacularly ironic. I danced with her and Malfoy made an expression."

"An expression?" Andromeda echoed, laughing slightly. "How on earth did you manage that? I thought his face was frozen or something."

"My amazing dancing talent," he retorted. "I actually have no idea whatsoever."

"Jealousy, maybe? You two did always look quite fetching together," his cousin pointed out. "I still remember that Christmas party when she first taught you how to dance. The song was terribly apt. Some Muggle tune about cold and lonely works of art."

"She's not that bad," he protested, though without much force. His eyes were focused on some indeterminate spot, something in his face unaccountably softened.

"You remember it too, I take it?"

"I do. She wore green and Bella wore red. Father was making jokes about turning them into a pair of Christmas ornaments," he recalled, smiling faintly. "Bella didn't want to be outdone, as ever, so she tried to teach me the tango. I was hopeless at it."

"So she moved on to Malfoy and Narcissa ran off in tears," finished Andromeda. "Yes, of course. I'd forgotten how they both fought over you."

"Hardly fighting. Bella just hated Narcissa having anything she didn't have." Though his tone was jesting, there was a twist to his mouth as he spoke. "And we know how Bella likes to win."

"I don't know what shocked me more. That Narcissa was crying or that Malfoy came after her, acting like a human being," Andromeda observed, a none-too-subtle attempt to shift the subject from her other sister. "I'm surprised you remember it so well."

"You shouldn't be." He kept his eyes on the ground, lashes lowered. "It was the last Christmas we all spent together, after all."

"You're right," she murmured. "Ted and I got married two months later."

"Do you regret it?" Sirius finally looked at her again, uncertainty flaring.

Andromeda met his eyes and smiled. "Not for all the world."

"Good." He reached out and took her hand. "Narcissa seems happy, for what my knowledge is worth. And if Malfoy cares enough to be jealous of me, well...I suppose it means something. I'm willing to take things as I see them. Though apparently I see very little, considering I had no idea that was why she and Bella were fighting at the time."

"You were thirteen. Nobody expected you to notice things like that. I only knew because she'd told me. The vast, complicated love triangle that it was," Andromeda laughed softly. "Poor 'Cissa. At least Malfoy came to his senses eventually."

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Nobody tells me anything. If she and I were still speaking, I'd ask her very sweetly for an explanation."

"How did it come to this?" mused the older woman. "She always adored you when we were younger. Said you were the prettiest thing she'd ever seen."

"I hope you understand if I can't take that as anything even resembling a compliment."

Andromeda laughed then, her melancholy apparently forgotten. "Of course. Though perhaps I ought to tell your friends that. As a farewell gift."

"You wouldn't dare!" Sirius sounded genuinely horrified.

"Promise you won't take Nymphadora on the motorbike."

"I can't. I already promised her I would. Please, Andromeda," he begged, glancing warily about as if expecting James to pop up out of a nearby bush.

Which, much to Sirius' chagrin, he essentially did, appearing behind Sirius with a grin fit to split his face, "What shouldn't she tell us, Black?"

"You must be dim to think I'd tell you myself," his friend retorted. "Andromeda..."

She grinned with consummate wickedness, taking several steps backward. "I'm afraid I have to be going, Sirius dear, but as I said..." her gaze shifted to James, "our cousin Narcissa used to say that my cousin here was the prettiest thing she'd ever seen."

"Pretty?" James about doubled over from laughter. "You?"

Sirius looked torn between laughter and dismay as his cousin strolled down the path toward Hogsmeade, still chuckling to herself. Somewhere behind him, he could hear Remus and Peter asking James what on earth was going on, the air soon filling with their accompanying laughter. And finally, he turned back, a smile slowly growing even as he shook his head.

"You're never going to let me hear the end of that, are you?" he asked rhetorically. They were laughing far too hard to answer.

It should not have surprised Sirius in the least when, two days later, a Howler arrived, addressed to "Sirius Black, the prettiest student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry" and announcing the aforementioned title to the entirety of the Great Hall at breakfast. However, he bore it with good grace, restricting himself to a love note in Latin addressed to Snape in a perfect forgery of James's characteristic scrawl.

"So the war of pranks begins yet again?" enquired Professor Flitwick as he noted the growing expression of abject horror on Severus Snape's face. "Some things simply don't change."