Nobody Knew

Snape stared at his daughter numbly. So she got to London by the Portkey. She had made her best lost-little-girl impression (not that it was particularly difficult under the circumstances) on the first decent-looking man she saw, gave him a story about being separated from her parents, and got herself escorted to the station. There she managed to convince the man that the couple nearby were her parents (and that must have required a great deal of acting skill on her part) and got rid of him. Then she figured out, all by herself, how to get to Platform Nine and Three Quarters.

She managed to get into Hogwarts, without invitation, to tell her father that she had witnessed her family being tortured, then killed or kidnapped.

He put another cup into her hands. Sleeping Potion this time. She drank obediently.

She looked up at him with wide eyes. "Will you bring them back?"

He couldn't even muster a reassuring smile, just watched her drift away into sleep.

Then he let his calm drop. His hands clenched into fists, fingernails digging into his skin painfully. But he didn't feel this pain. It was nothing compared to the cold that crept into his heart, changing his insides into little, sharp icicles that stung with every breath.

He had to go. He had to see it himself. With a violent cry he sprung from his chair and caught the container with the Floo powder.

"Incendio!" The fireplace became alive with flames. He threw some powder into them and began the litany of spells and passwords before stepping through.

The living room of his house was faintly illuminated by the glowing orbs of tainted glass that floated above his head, as usual to the home. Theresa loved to make them for relaxation.

Nothing was broken. Nothing seemed out of place. He wouldn't guess that something horrific happened here, just by looking around the living room. Until he looked down.

"Caia..."

He dropped to his knees beside her. She looked so peaceful, as she usually did while sleeping. Except now she was much, much paler.

"Caia... my little Caia." He touched her forehead as if the gesture could make her open her eyes. It didn't. He just felt what his eyes didn't want to accept. No warmth of life.

No more evenings spent over the cauldron with her. She would never exclaim joyously: "It turned gray! Yes, we did it Dad!" Never again would she look at him with disappointment when he tells her not to touch the ingredients or orders her to go to bed. Never again would she cry when he rebukes her harshly for something that hardly even matters to a normal father. Never again would he hear her bicker with Cassius. Never again would she come to him asking to tell her about the Crystal Tower. She won't be there.

He felt hot tears stinging under his eyelids; his hand clutched Caia's robe so tightly his knuckles whitened.

Cassius, he had to see Cassius.

Cassius was lying with his face down, with blood drying in his hair. Severus rolled him over to look into his face. It was strained with the lines of pain. Aurelia said he was under Cruciatus for the longest time, Snape recalled.

He touched his face as he did with Caia.

It wasn't cold.

Severus immediately pressed his fingers to the boy's throat. Uneven, weak, barely noticeable, but it was there! Cassius was still alive.

Wiping all grief away from his heart, Severus picked his son up and went to the fireplace. Another string of spells and passwords hastily left his mouth and he found himself in his Hogwarts quarters.

"Severus, what..."

Snape didn't even look at Dumbledore on his way out.

"He's still alive... I must get him to Madam Pomfrey..."

For the next three hours he assisted Madam Pomfrey with tending to his son. He selected potions, helped casting complicated healing spells, anything to keep Cassius from following Caia.

Finally Poppy announced there was nothing else he could help with and ordered him out with a firm, but kind reprimand.

"He will live," she said, taking pity on his uncharacteristically unbalanced state of mind. Being informed on Snape's relation to the tortured boy, she couldn't help but wonder how it was all possible. How was that nobody knew. Recalling an image of a reserved but quietly passionate young boy from some twenty-five years before, she smiled at finally having spotted the glimpse of him in a stern and unpleasant man before her. Although it was shame to see what it takes for him to let what she believed was his true personality surface.

Snape returned to his chambers with Poppy's words echoing in his mind. Cassius would live. As much as he didn't want to leave him, there was still Aurelia to think about. And his wife.

A sickening feel twisted his guts at the thought of his wife in the hands of Death Eaters. He could still remember how it was before... how he was wondering what he should do to her... how he considered killing her.

He forced himself to take three deep breaths. It was not a good time to dwell on the past. Particularly the past he had confessed and received an absolution for... at least when it came to Theresa.

He found Dumbledore sitting in the chair beside the bed where Aurelia slept. Blue eyes devoid of their usual twinkle, the old man looked to his young employee. "What happened?" Snape didn't answer as he went to the cabinet, took the strongest whiskey he had and drank without bothering with a glass. Then he flung the bottle to the wall. The sound of glass breaking didn't give him any of its usual satisfaction. Breaking things wasn't going to help this time. Neither was drinking. Nothing was.

With his hands clenching in his greasy hair, he choked out: "Caia is dead."

Dumbledore rose from the chair, sympathy Snape couldn't see from behind the curtain of his hair softening the old man's concerned eyes. "I... I am... sorry, Severus."

"Sorry... You are sorry... What am I supposed to say?!... Caia's dead, Theresa may be too, Cassius barely alive... those protection spells, they were perfect... what have I done wrong...?!"

Dumbledore went closer and grabbed Severus' arms, noticing despair and self-hatred in his black eyes. Much, much greater than the sight nineteen years ago, when he heard Severus' confession.

"This is not your fault, Severus!"

"I should have never... If Theresa dies too..."

"This is not-"

Severus shook Dumbledore's hands off him.

"Yes, it is!" he hissed, as if daring the Headmaster to question his responsibility further in an attempt to have somebody to fight against.

"How?" the old man was trying to pour some reason into the raving lunatic in front of him, if it was even possible in such a situation. "Tell me how?"

Severus repeated Aurelia's story. The last words came in exhausted pants. "If I didn't give the Ministry those damned potions through Theresa... They would have never known, they would have never gotten to her, Caia would be alive... Theresa, oh Merlin, Theresa... I need to find her... " Snape moved to the door.

"Where are you going, Severus!"

Snape turned around, his eyes surprisingly clear. Of course, Dumbledore realized, nobody had this ability to act upon any circumstances like Severus. He's set out to do something. "To Malfoy's. Before Draco manages to inform him about today's events and blow my cover."

"It won't happen," Dumbledore assured him tiredly.

"It won't?" Snape's right hand unconsciously stretched in the direction of the Great Hall. "Even if the students were to far away to hear, they still saw everything. How am I going to explain that?"

"I cast Obliviate on the entire Hall."

Severus simply stared. Firstly, the Headmaster believed firmly in non-interference in the human mind. Secondly, entire Hall...?

"But that's not..." he paused. What was impossible for him or anybody else didn't have to be impossible for Albus Dumbledore. "Thank you... thank you," he whispered. "I'll be able to do some planning... and take care of Caia... the full moon is in five days..." Having something realistic to think of was slowly returning him to the world of sanity.

"Full moon? Severus, you surely are not going to go through with this superstition..."

"Of course I am, Albus!" he snapped with the sharp reply. "I won't let her go without the Ritual! She's my daughter!"

He was going to say a great deal more, but seeing Albus' incomprehensible expression, he stopped. No point talking about the Ritual with a Gryffindor. Even the Ravenclaws considered it only a way for Slytherins to increase their belief in the importance of the family line and purity of blood.

Well, perhaps it was, but still he would never let somebody he loved be buried without the Ritual.

Severus looked around, trying to gather his thoughts. His eyes fell upon his youngest, sleeping in his big bed, looking so tiny and fragile.

"What about Aurelia? I can't exactly send her back home... can she stay here?"

They both knew he didn't mean just next few days. Dumbledore sighed. "She's only eight."

"Nine in January. She's very smart."

"Are you sure? Perhaps it would be better if you quit... After you find Theresa that is."

Snape laughed mirthlessly. "Easy way out, Albus? No, I will carry on with this masquerade as long as possible. I owe them. And she would be safer at Hogwarts than anywhere else."

Dumbledore didn't ask whom he owed. Not even the death of his daughter felt a payment enough for Severus. And he was inclined to see everything in categories of debt and payment.

"All right, Severus, I will make arrangements. She will start school three years early."

Snape considered it carefully. "I will have to talk to both of them. To keep everything secret."

"It's a lot to ask of two so very young children."

"It means Theresa's life!" Severus snapped, going into the battle mode at the thought of what his wife might be facing this very moment.

Dumbledore shook his head. "You're their father, Severus, but..." he trailed off, seeing a grimace of pain replace the unreasonable (but entirely understandable) anger. "What is it?"

The younger man swallowed. "The Dark Mark. It's burning."

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