Gift and Burden
Nov. 29th, 2007 11:26 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mary_j_59Title Gift and Burden
Author mary-j-59
Type genfic/original crossover; complete short story, about 6,000 words. G-rated; no warnings.
Characters Severus Snape (aka Michael Griffin), Neville Longbottom, two OCs
Comments Thanks to my sister for reading and suggesting some changes; also for her encouragement! I was inspired to write this by the November challenge on Snapedom. More notes follow the story.
"Well? What have you discovered now?"
Neville swung round, startled, nearly dropping the herbal he was inspecting. He knew that voice. But to hear it now, in a Muggle bookstore, close to fourteen years after its owner had died? He stared across the table of books, expecting to see Professor Snape looming over him with a contemptuous sneer, as he had so often done when Neville was a child. But his former teacher wasn't there. Indeed, it seemed no one was there at all, until he saw a little boy, probably 8 or 9 years old, run up to a slight man standing next to a shelf labeled "electronics". The man was dressed like a Muggle, in corduroy trousers and a battered leather jacket, and his dark hair was clipped fairly short, and greying at the temples. The little boy was also slender and dark haired; it was obvious at a glance that the two were related. "Dad, look!" the child exclaimed. "Look at this one!"
"The care and breeding of common reptiles," the man answered, in that familiar tenor. "Breeding, eh? That's ambitious. Can you afford it?"
The boy turned the book around to look at the label. "Nine pounds," he read aloud. "Nine pounds! But it's old. Somebody used it already. Look; they wrote in it."
The man, who had taken the book and riffled through its pages, handed it back to the little boy. "It's not badly damaged," he said, "but you might ask Mr. Carter if he'll lower the price for you."
"Will you ask him? Please, Dad?"
The man shook his head. "I don't want the book, do I?" he responded. Then he said, more gently, "Go on. The Carters don't bite. I'll wait back here."
The boy caught his lip between his teeth and clutched the book to his chest for a moment. Then he walked in a diagonal between the two men, heading for the front desk. His father turned his head to look after him, and his eyes met Neville's. He stiffened, his mouth and eyebrows forming straight lines. "Longbottom," he said, "what are you doing here?"
Neville could feel the tension in his own body. Not that he was scared of Snape; he had lost his fear of him sometime during that terrible seventh year, but to be seeing and hearing a dead man - well, that would shock anyone. "I'm buying a book," he answered warily, and waited.
"Obviously," Snape said. "Why here? Couldn't you get what you needed at Flourish and Blotts?"
Neville shook his head. "It's a Muggle herbal," he explained. "Hermione found it for me, on the internet, but I wanted to actually see it before I bought it."
"So here you are," Snape sighed, "and I am at your mercy."
Neville raised his chin and looked straight at him. "Do you need my mercy, sir? After all, you're-"
"Dead," Snape finished the sentence for him. Neville was about to speak, but Snape shook his head at him. The little boy was coming back, head down. His hands were empty. "They wouldn't lower the price?" the man asked.
"No. Cos they already have, Miss Carter said. But she said they would keep it for me till I had enough money," the child added, brightening a little.
"And your birthday money is all gone?"
The boy looked up at his father's face with a startled expression. "Course!" he answered. "I had to buy the tank and everything. You know! And then we had to let Tommy go, anyway."
"So you've no money left at all?"
"I might have a pound. And sixty pence."
"Well. That's very precise," Snape said, straight-faced. "But if Miss Carter says she'll keep the book for you, she will. Christopher," and his voice dropped a little. He touched the child lightly on the back, as if to turn him. "This is Mr. Longbottom. I used to teach him, a long time ago. Say hello to him."
The little boy had indeed turned to face Neville. Now he stepped forward with his right hand outstretched, saying, "Hello, Mr. Longbottom. It's nice to meet you."
"It's nice to meet you, too, Christopher," Neville responded, and took the small hand and shook it. "Do you have a pet snake?"
"No," Christopher answered. "Not any more. We had to let Tommy go because he wouldn't eat. But I'm getting a lizard, I hope. A slowworm. They look like snakes, but they're lizards, really. Do you know how you can tell?"
"No," Neville answered, bemused. "How can you tell?"
"Because they have eyelids. Snakes don't. Isn't that cool?"
"Cool" was not the adjective Neville would have used, but it was impossible not to respond to the child's enthusiasm. "I didn't know that," he said. "What other differences are there?"
"Lots! Their scales are different, and their ears, and they can lose their tails and grow them back again, and-"
"Christopher," Snape interrupted. "You're delaying Mr. Longbottom. He needs to buy his book." Then, to Neville, he said, "Would you like to come home with us? After all, we haven't seen each other in quite some time, have we? I'm sure we have a great deal to say to each other."
It was a request, but Neville sensed a command under the polite form of the words. Or perhaps that was his imagination? But it was true; they had a great deal to say to each other. "I would be honored," he answered, equally formally.
Snape nodded. "We'll wait for you outside," he said, and he took his son's hand in his and walked swiftly past Neville and out the shop door. A small bell tinkled as the door closed behind them.
It took Neville awhile to gather the right amount of Muggle money from his pockets and pay for the book, but Snape and his son were still waiting for him when he emerged into the bright August afternoon. "This way," Snape said to him. "We'll make the 4:20 if we hurry."
A few minutes later, they were on a bus driving over a bridge. Snape had paid for Neville's ticket before Neville could get the fare together, which was embarrassing. He had waved away the payment Neville tried to give him. Christopher smiled at him from his seat across the aisle. "Do you have any pets?" he asked.
"Yes. I have a toad."
"Cool! I'd like a toad."
"I shouldn't," Snape muttered. Then he said aloud, "not the same one, is it?"
"Believe it or not, yes. Trevor's 21 now; they say it's some kind of record."
"Does the thing still have the habit of hiding in inconvenient corners?"
"Yes, actually, he does," Neville answered. "He never got to be very friendly."
"That's okay," Christopher said wisely. He had stood up, as had his father, and Neville followed their example. "You can't expect a toad to be friendly. They're not smart enough."
"Lizards, however, are the geniuses of the reptile world, are they?"
"Dad," the little boy groaned.
"Mr. Longbottom had that toad when he wasn't much older than you. The thing was a menace; I'm amazed it's still alive."
"Da-ad! How can a toad be a menace?"
"You have no idea," Snape muttered. They were walking slightly uphill now, up a narrow, cobbled street with a chimney looming ahead of them. A few of the houses they passed had a derelict look, with boarded-up windows, but many more had curtains in the windows and brightly-painted doors. At the last such door on the right, Snape stopped and pulled out a key. Neville wondered for a moment why the man didn't simply use his wand, but then he reflected that Snape was in very deep cover indeed. Perhaps the Muggle act had become automatic by now. Snape turned the key one way, tried the door handle, and then turned it the other way. "Ah," he said, "open after all. Someone's home. After you, Longbottom," and he held the door open, gesturing with his other hand.
Neville walked ahead of Snape and his son into a small sitting room. His first impression was of books, in a pile on a small table and leaning against each other on bookshelves lining the walls. There was a silver-white machine on one of the bookshelves, or rather, on a desk built into them. Neville didn't know whether it was a television or a computer. On another shelf was an empty glass tank, apparently awaiting young Christopher's lizard. Neville took in all this at a glance. Snape, behind him, called out, "Jane?"
"Mam's gone shopping, Dad," a treble voice answered. "She went with aunt Maggie and Mrs. Costello. She told us to tell you she'll be back for tea, but she might be late. She took the mobile."
Snape had walked past Neville and opened another door. Two black-haired little girls were in the next room, which proved to be a kitchen. Both of them had flour on their hands, and Neville glimpsed a large bowl, a packet of flour, and some measuring spoons on the table behind them. The smaller girl, who had curly hair, smiled and said, "Hello, Mr. Griffin."
"Hello, Dina," Snape responded. "Lily? This is Mr. Longbottom, from the school I used to teach at."
The taller girl stepped forward, slapped her hand against the leg of her jeans and then held it out to him. "Hello, Mr. Longbottom. Are you a teacher, too?"
Neville took her hand and shook it, smiling in response to her smile. "Yes, I am," he said.
"What do you teach?"
"Herbology," Neville answered, but at the same time Snape said, "Botany." The child frowned.
"Botany? You mean, plants? Do a lot of people study that?"
"Oh, quite a few," Snape answered, before Neville could respond. "Don't they, Longbottom?"
"The whole school, actually, up to fifth year, " Neville said.
"You don't teach straight biology, then? About animals, too?"
"Well, that's a separate subject. You see," Neville began, but Snape interrupted again. "Would you like something to drink, Longbottom? Tea, or coffee, or beer?"
It was a warm day. Neville considered briefly, then answered, "I'd like a beer, thank you."
"Very well." Snape opened the door to a white cupboard and pulled out two bottles, then took two glasses from another, higher cupboard. "Would you mind carrying the glasses, Longbottom?" he said.
Christopher, in the meantime, had found a glass for himself and opened up the white cupboard. "Chris," the little girl called Dina said, "Sam and Sean and all of them were wanting to play five a side."
"Didn't you want to play?" Neville heard Christopher ask.
"Lily wanted to experiment, so we came home," Dina answered in her quiet voice.
"Is your experiment edible? If it is, I'll help." With that, the kitchen door closed behind the children, and Neville was alone in the front room with Snape. "Sit," the man said to him, gesturing to one of the chairs. Then, after a pause, he added, "please."
It was just like Snape to start ordering him around like a dog, Neville thought. But there was no point in getting angry. "Thank you," he responded quietly, and sat in the chair Snape had indicated, setting his paper-wrapped book down on the table next to him. Snape sat in the other chair, swept a pile of books off the table and onto the floor, and pried the caps off the two bottles. He poured the contents into the glasses and handed one to Neville. "To old times. May they never return," he said with a twisted smile, and raised his glass. Startled, Neville raised his in return, and sipped at the cool, foamy liquid. For a moment, both men were silent, and Neville could hear the three children chattering and laughing in the kitchen beyond. Snape turned his head towards the voices, and his lips tilted upward a bit. But then he swung back to Neville. "I'm sure you have many questions, Longbottom, " he said. "I'll tell you what I can, but first- What happened? When Potter - " he paused, and Neville saw him swallow. "I thought - he must have won; somehow he must have won; the mark has faded, but how - what happened after the Dark Lord killed him?"
"I didn't see it all," Neville responded. "But Voldemort didn't kill Harry. He thought he had, but he didn't. None of his spells would work against us, after that. Then he tried to kill Harry a second time, but the spell rebounded and he died, instead. Harry used "expelliarmus" on him."
"Expelliarmus," Snape murmured. "I taught him that spell."
Of course! Neville thought. The duelling club, second year, when Snape had refused to allow him to duel Justin Finch Fletchly in front of everyone. "So I did some good, after all," Snape was saying.
"Of course you did, sir," Neville responded stoutly. "You're a hero. You were always Dumbledore's man. Everyone knows that; Harry told everybody. That day, you know, when we thought you had died."
"Dumbledore's man. Well, I suppose so, after a fashion. A hero, am I, Longbottom?" And Snape again smiled that twisted, mirthless smile. "I think you'll find there are those who would not agree with you." He stood up, and began to pace back and forth in front of the small hearth. There was a jam jar full of wildflowers above the fireplace; at a glance Neville recognized hawkbit and a sprig of heather, and he wondered if the absent Jane had picked and arranged the flowers. But then Snape stopped and looked straight at him again. "I should like to know," he said, "the snake - what happened to the snake?"
"I killed her, sir," Neville said.
Snape had gone very pale when he mentioned Nagini. "Then I am in your debt," he said. His voice was flat and quiet.
"No," Neville answered. "You're not. I just did what I had to do. We all did."
"Possibly," Snape said. "I am in your debt nonetheless." Neville shook his head. He was sure Snape was wrong, and wished he could think of some argument that would convince him, but he could not. The man had begun pacing again. After a moment, Neville asked, "What happened to you, sir?"
"What happened to me?" Snape repeated. "Longbottom - you must understand there are certain things - there is a great deal I don't remember. That whole life," he paused, and swallowed, "there are times when it seems like a dream to me. Or a nightmare. Jane tells me I still have nightmares sometimes. I don't remember them, though. I try not to remember. God!" he exclaimed with sudden vehemence, "I wish I could obliviate you!"
His voice was quiet, but Neville flinched slightly, all the same, and felt for his own wand, safe in the inner pocket of his jacket. "I'd rather you didn't do that," he responded, just as quietly.
Snape noticed the gesture. "And you'll fight me if I try? Don't worry, Longbottom," he said, with another of those bleak smiles. "I won't try." He returned to his chair and slumped into it, staring straight ahead as if collecting his thoughts. Neville waited. After a moment, the man sighed and looked at Neville. "I think I may actually have died that day. I don't know; as I said, I don't remember a great deal. But it was the classic experience people have written about, or so Jane tells me. A light, and voices, and I think there was music. It seemed to me that I would see the people I loved, but I was told I had to go back. That I was not ready. And I wept. When I opened my eyes, there was a flash of gold; I think it must have been the phoenix. I was alone, in that place -" Snape shuddered - "and it came to me that there was a battle, and that perhaps I had been sent back to fight. Then I could die again, striking a blow against him. Potter never knew this; no one in that world knew it, I think, but I had wanted to kill that monster since I was nineteen. I wanted to be the one to bring him down. And I thought, since Lily's son had to give himself up and die, perhaps I had been sent back in his stead. To kill the man who had killed him and his mother. So I picked up my wand, and, do you know, Longbottom?" His eyes met Neville's. "it was a stick of wood; nothing more. I could do nothing with it."
"I'm sorry," Neville said.
"You needn't be. I am not; not anymore. I still have it; would you believe," he added. "Ten and a quarter inches; birch and dragon heartstring. One of Ollivander's. It was the first thing I ever owned that hadn't belonged to someone else before me."
Neville nodded. He remembered very well how proud and pleased he had been, at 16, to finally get his own wand, and how comfortable it had felt in his hand. He was sure he could never part with it, even if he, too, lost his magic. "What happened then?" he asked. "What did you do?"
"What did I do?" Snape repeated. He stared straight ahead for a moment, as if to gather his thoughts, and Neville saw him swallow. "I walked," he answered softly. " The children are reading a book now, about a dog that walks from the highlands back home to Yorkshire. I was that dog, only the dogcatchers weren't after me, thank God. I skirted Hogsmeade and headed over the mountains, south and east. I was in a daze, and still weak from loss of blood, and I suppose I wasn't very rational. All I could think; all I could keep my mind on, was that I had to get home. It's as well no one saw me. I must have looked terrifying, like the Bloody Baron. When I came to a burn I washed as well as I could, and drank. I was terribly thirsty, and I realized I needed to drink as much as I could. So I drank whenever I came to water that seemed clean, and I just walked. I think I walked for three days before I came to a road with traffic on it. Cars. I began walking on that road because it was going in the right direction, and then, as the sun was setting, one of those cars stopped to give me a lift. That man brought me to his home."
"A Muggle?" Neville asked, for Snape had stopped talking. He'd picked up his glass, drunk from it as if re-experiencing the thirst he'd spoken about, and was now staring blankly. It was as if he'd forgotten Neville was there. But, as Neville spoke, Snape rounded on him, his eyes flashing. "A human being," he answered. His voice was almost a snarl, and Neville stiffened and gripped his wand again, convinced the man was about to attack him. Snape, however, sighed, his shoulders dropping. "It's what you've been taught, isn't it?" he said. "That Wizards and Muggles are different; that Muggles are inferior? You can't help it. I was taught the same, and look where it led me."
"Not inferior. I don't think that. I never thought-" Neville began,.
"Really?" Snape said, with that familiar smirk, and he stared straight into Neville's eyes. Neville stared back, chin up, and said nothing. "Well. Perhaps not," Snape said. "You actually are a good person, Longbottom. I must try to remember that." Neville flushed, suspecting an insult, but then he saw that Snape had flushed, too, and looked away. "I am sorry," he said, sounding rather breathless. "I should not have twitted you on what you have been taught. I think - I think I did not teach you well. There were times when I was needlessly cruel to you. I am sorry."
"You taught us well, sir," Neville answered. As he spoke, he realized it was true; Snape had in fact taught them well and thoroughly, especially defense. "You kept us safe; as safe as you could. You don't have to apologize."
"Don't I?" Snape murmured. His voice was so quiet Neville had to strain to hear him. "I tried; God knows I tried, but I sometimes think I could have done better."
There was another pause. Snape was looking down, turning his glass in his hands. "What happened with the m- the man?" Neville asked him. "the man in the car who picked you up?"
"Calum Anderson," Snape said. "Calum and Jenny. They were very good to me; good beyond all reason. They gave me a bed, and fed me, and gave me some old clothes of Calum's, and they asked no questions. I told them, of course, everything I could. It seemed safe to tell them most of the truth; somehow I knew they would listen and not judge. Of course," and he smiled again, " I knew they didn't believe me; not entirely. How should they? They probably thought I was raving with fever. But they didn't judge me. After three days, I was well enough to travel again, and Calum drove me to Glasgow and gave me money for a train to York. Then I walked again. When I got to my house - this house - all the protective spells had been broken. That's why I think I must actually have died, before the phoenix came. There is not much more to tell. I had some acquaintances here, and I began to learn how to live. I began to live, Longbottom," he said, with some passion. "When I look back, it seems to me that I was barely alive, before. You're sorry for me now, aren't you? You're sitting here thinking, 'Poor bastard; he used to be such a powerful wizard'"
"Um - well," Neville said. He actually had been thinking that: to be stripped of one's magic seemed a fate almost worse than death. It seemed almost like having one's soul sucked out by a dementor. When he was very small, magic had terrified him, true, and he'd sometimes wished he and his parents had been born Muggles. He'd believed they would have been safe then, because they would have been anonymous. On the other hand, he'd realized, Muggles couldn't defend themselves against wizards. And he was a wizard; he'd been a wizard practically from the day he was born. Snape had, as well. How could you learn to live without magic if you'd had it all your life? Before he could say anything more, Snape continued.
"It's not so. When I was a wizard, I was entrapped in a sort of half-life as the slave of two masters who used me for their own ends. I am free now. I'm well rid of the whole boiling of them."
"Yes. I see," Neville said.
Snape smirked again. "I was going to say that there was nothing at all I miss in the Wizarding World, but that would not be true. I do miss being able to fly. But what I lost that day is much, much less than what I have now. I still don't know," he added quietly, "why, exactly, I was sent back. What my mission is. I haven't done anything so extraordinary in this life. But I have been happy. I know," he continued, turning his empty glass in his fingers and staring into it, " that I don't deserve this happiness. I've done nothing to earn it. But I am grateful for it, nonetheless."
For a moment, there was complete silence. The children in the next room seemed to have finished their experiment; a door had slammed a moment before, and there was a good smell of warm dough and anisette. Snape tilted his head, listening, and then went to the kitchen door and opened it, to reveal the bowl and other implements draining in the dish rack and a misshapen loaf of bread on the table. He closed the door again and, turning to Neville, said, "Would you like another beer, Longbottom?"
"No, thank you," Neville answered. Snape returned to his chair and there was another pause. Snape had again picked up his glass and started twiddling it; as Neville watched, his fingers clenched on it so hard Neville was afraid he would crush it. What did you do for multiple glass cuts? Neville could do anything with plants, but he wasn't much good at healing spells. "Longbottom," Snape said, and his voice was tight, "Will you tell me - what are you going to do?"
"Do?" Neville repeated. For a moment, he was bewildered, but then he understood what the man was asking, and once he understood, he didn't need to think. The flowers on the mantelpiece and the fresh-baked bread in the kitchen; Lily's searching, forthright gaze and her experiments; Christopher's chatter about reptiles; a small pair of boots and a ball in a corner near the door - he simply saw all these things, and, as far as Neville was concerned, there was no decision to be made. "I won't betray you, sir," he said. Then he felt himself smiling. "Anyway, no-one would believe me if I did," he added.
He heard Snape exhale in a sort of sigh - the man must have been holding his breath - and saw his shoulders relax. "Thank you, Longbottom. I am greatly in your debt," Snape said, and his eyes met Neville's.
"You're not," Neville said. He was afraid his frustration was audible in his voice, but honestly! How could he make Snape understand? Debt and obligation and honor and all those Slytherin things just didn't enter into it. Even if it were true that Snape would be feted as a hero - and, Neville realized, there were still those who wanted to punish him, instead - he would never betray this family. He wouldn't even think of it. If he did, he wouldn't be Neville Longbottom, but someone quite different. Neville preferred to remain Neville, and he knew what he had to do to be the man he wanted to be. It was that simple. But, from what he remembered, Snape had never appreciated simplicity.
"I am," Snape said quietly. "You killed the serpent."
"But that - it could have been anyone! It was just luck, that I got the chance. Harry asked me to kill it, and I got the chance, and I did. It was easy!"
"It was easy," Snape repeated, in that flat, tight voice. "It was not easy for me. And do you really believe in luck, Longbottom?" Those dark eyes stared into his as if challenging him, and, after a moment, Neville had to look away. "You used the sword, didn't you?" Snape continued.
"Yes. But honestly, sir, it doesn't matter, I just-"
"I think it does," Snape said. "By the way, Longbottom, you needn't call me 'sir'. I'm not your teacher any more, if I ever was." His mouth twisted a little, into that familiar smirk, and he added, "Perhaps I should be calling you 'sir'. Head of Gryffindor house, are you?"
"That's right. But you don't have to call me 'sir', honestly. Longbottom is fine. What would you like me to call you?" Neville added warily.
"Michael, I think. That's what people call me now." At Neville's puzzled expression, Snape explained, "It was - is - my middle name. Severus is a wizard's name, and I didn't want that. I didn't want any part of that life. It's all past. At least, it was," Snape added, "until I was fool enough to speak your name in the Carter's bookshop. I should have just ignored you; pretended not to know you." He held up his hand as Neville opened his mouth to protest. "I know. You have promised to keep my secret, and you are an honest person. You try to keep your promises. Believe it or not, Longbottom," and he smiled again, "that was something I admired in you, back then. But keeping a secret like this one is a burden for you. I should rather not have given you that burden."
And they were back once more, Neville thought, to Snape's utter lack of understanding. He just didn't know, couldn't know, what sort of person Neville was or how he thought. Resigned, Neville decided he wasn't even going to try to explain again. Instead, he said simply, "It's not a burden. I told you already, even if I did say anything, no one would believe me. They'd just laugh."
"Well. That's as may be. Still - " and Snape paused, "it seems to me - Longbottom - " There was another pause. Neville, looking at him in puzzlement, saw that he was flushed, as if with embarrassment, and was looking down now, rather than into Neville's face. "What's the matter?" Neville asked.
Snape looked up. "Nothing," he said, and his voice was tight again. "Only - it is a great deal to ask of you, I know, but I was wondering if you would accept a gift from me?"
Neville's first impulse was to answer, "Yes, of course," but Snape seemed so troubled that he thought it better to be cautious. "What sort of gift?" he asked.
"Nothing dangerous," Snape answered. "Only a few words, and some beads. Will you take them?"
Neville's wariness increased. "Words?" he said doubtfully.
Snape sighed. "A blessing," he answered. "My gran gave it to me, and she had it from her grandfather. It carries one obligation with it; whoever receives it, must pass it on. I had thought it would go to Christopher, but now you are here-"
Neville interrupted him. "I don't want to take it, if Christopher should have it. That wouldn't be right."
Snape answered, very quietly, "I have nothing else to give you, Longbottom. Nothing of value. And I should like to give you something."
"That's not necessary. You don't need to give me anything, really. I don't want to take something that should be in your family."
There was a pause. Snape was staring straight ahead again, and as Neville watched, he clenched one fist on his knee. His expression was somber. "Of course, I imagined Christopher would have it, but he is too young. He doesn't need it. And I have nothing else to give. Would it make any difference," and he turned his head to look into Neville's eyes, "if I told you that you would be doing me a kindness by accepting it?"
It was, Neville sensed, a serious question, and he considered it seriously. If the man wanted to make amends for his previous unkindness, shouldn't he let him? It came to him that it was wrong to refuse an apology, however clumsily worded, or to reject a gift someone gave you freely. "Yes. It would," he answered.
"Then will you do me that kindness?"
"Yes."
Snape exhaled sharply, as though he had been holding his breath again. "Thank you," he said. He stood and walked to the hearth, stopping in front of it. "Would you kneel here, please. Longbottom?" he said.
Surprised, Neville got up, took the couple of steps to where Snape was standing, and then knelt, a bit clumsily, on the carpet in front of the grate. Snape was to one side of him; Neville turned his head to look at the other man, but heard him say, "No. Just keep still and listen." He felt Snape's hand touch the top of his head, and his voice saying words in a language Neville didn't understand. Then Snape's hand lifted. After a brief pause, he said, "It's done. You may get up now," and Neville clambered to his feet. He turned to face Snape, who brought a string of wooden beads to his lips, then held them out to Neville. "Take it," Snape said. "Keep it by you - that's what my gran told me. And I did, you know, every day since then, until now. It must be thirty five years ago. You needn't pray on them, if you don't want to," he added with a swift smile. "I didn't. Not very often."
"Thank you," Neville said, not knowing what else to say. Snape nodded. After another brief pause, he said, "I'll write out the words for you, with a translation, so you can remember. You're not obliged to say it in Irish. That's just the way it was done in my family."
"Thank you," Neville repeated. "I'll give it back to Christopher, if I can."
"I should appreciate that," Snape said. His eyes were very bright, and Neville realized, with a shock, that there were tears in them. "But only if it's possible. If it seems right. You will know," he added, "whom to give it to, and when. You'll know. It might be someone you haven't met yet."
He had gone to the desk and taken out a piece of paper and was writing rapidly on it. Neville, as he watched and waited, came to a firm resolve. The blessing would go back to Christopher; that was what his father had wanted. Snape had made his apology, and Neville had accepted it. When the time was right; when Christopher was grown up, he would give this gift back to him.
Snape handed him the piece of paper. "Don't worry now about passing it on," he said. "You cannot anticipate who should receive it. To take one example, I never imagined I should be giving it to you."
"But when-" Neville began, but Snape interrupted him. "Head of Gryffindor, eh?" he said.
"That's right, " Neville answered. "I was appointed this summer."
"Then you need all the luck you can get. Who knows," Snape added, "you might be headmaster of Hogwarts someday."
"I don't think so. The headmaster doesn't teach. I like teaching." Then Neville blushed, thinking he should perhaps have said something different, something like, "I hope I do as well as you did." But perhaps Snape would have taken that the wrong way. He didn't want to insult the man.
"Would you like to stay for tea? Jane will be back in ten minutes or so."
Neville took that as his cue to leave. "No, thank you. Please tell her I'm sorry to have missed her; maybe I'll meet her another time. And tell Christopher and Lily goodbye for me."
Snape nodded. "They liked you," he said.
"I liked them, too. Tell Christopher I hope he gets his slowworm, and I'll bring Trevor to meet him if I come again." But at that, Snape got a rather pinched expression. "Please, Longbottom," he said, "If you do come again, leave the toad behind."
Neville couldn't help grinning at that. Some things never changed, it seemed. "Well, goodbye," he said, and held out his hand to Snape. The man took it, rather more awkwardly than his children had, and shook it briefly. "Goodbye, Longbottom. And thank you."
"You're welcome," Neville answered. "Don't worry. I won't forget." Snape nodded and opened the door for him. It was only after it closed behind him that it occurred to him he should perhaps have thanked Snape, as well, for the gift he had been given. But it was too late now. He began to walk back down towards the bus stop, where there was a bench. When he came to it, he sat down, took the paper Snape had given him out of his pocket, and began to read.
The blessing of God upon you:
May Christ and his mother guard you;
May the saints and the angels keep you from harm.
May all creation shelter you:
The sun, the moon and the stars,
The still and the moving airs;
The waters on earth, and above the earth;
All things that are green and blossom; -
And at that, Neville stopped reading to blink away tears. It came to him that he, who had been effectively orphaned and who had no brothers and sisters, had just been welcomed into a family. These people - Snape, who now called himself Michael; his children; his wife - were his people. He would never betray them. He'd promised that just a few minutes ago: he'd promised to keep Snape's secret, but now he felt the full weight of that promise. He swallowed and put the paper back in his pocket, next to his wand and the string of beads. He would read it again, and memorize it, when he got home.
As a child, he'd been forgetful, and sometimes his friends still teased him for his absent-mindedness. But Neville knew that he would never forget any part of this day. He could still hear Snape's voice murmuring the foreign words over him, and feel the pressure of the man's hand on his head.
When the time came, he would pass the blessing on. He would remember.
Mary Johnson, November, 2007
author's note: For some reason, I felt compelled, after reading of the challenge on Snapedom, to reconcile my personal canon with DH. This is my attempt to do so. From now on, the Griffin family is entirely free of the Potterverse. This story is a sequel/companion story to two others: "The Blessing" and "Tommy Serpent". Both are on my blog. The full text of the blessing Severus Michael Snape gives to Neville is included in "The Blessing".
I was a bit surprised to discover that Neville was the person Snape gave the blessing to, but it feels right. I am very fond of Neville, and hope I have done him justice here.
A second note: Two days after writing and posting this, I realized the bookshop scene, which several of you have praised, was influenced by a Sayers short story about Lord Peter and his ten-year-old nephew. I had not remembered this while writing, but, now that I do remember, I want to thank and credit Sayers, who certainly was an influence on me. The story, my sister tells me, is called "The Dragon's Head". If you haven't read it, it's well worth a look.
Author mary-j-59
Type genfic/original crossover; complete short story, about 6,000 words. G-rated; no warnings.
Characters Severus Snape (aka Michael Griffin), Neville Longbottom, two OCs
Comments Thanks to my sister for reading and suggesting some changes; also for her encouragement! I was inspired to write this by the November challenge on Snapedom. More notes follow the story.
"Well? What have you discovered now?"
Neville swung round, startled, nearly dropping the herbal he was inspecting. He knew that voice. But to hear it now, in a Muggle bookstore, close to fourteen years after its owner had died? He stared across the table of books, expecting to see Professor Snape looming over him with a contemptuous sneer, as he had so often done when Neville was a child. But his former teacher wasn't there. Indeed, it seemed no one was there at all, until he saw a little boy, probably 8 or 9 years old, run up to a slight man standing next to a shelf labeled "electronics". The man was dressed like a Muggle, in corduroy trousers and a battered leather jacket, and his dark hair was clipped fairly short, and greying at the temples. The little boy was also slender and dark haired; it was obvious at a glance that the two were related. "Dad, look!" the child exclaimed. "Look at this one!"
"The care and breeding of common reptiles," the man answered, in that familiar tenor. "Breeding, eh? That's ambitious. Can you afford it?"
The boy turned the book around to look at the label. "Nine pounds," he read aloud. "Nine pounds! But it's old. Somebody used it already. Look; they wrote in it."
The man, who had taken the book and riffled through its pages, handed it back to the little boy. "It's not badly damaged," he said, "but you might ask Mr. Carter if he'll lower the price for you."
"Will you ask him? Please, Dad?"
The man shook his head. "I don't want the book, do I?" he responded. Then he said, more gently, "Go on. The Carters don't bite. I'll wait back here."
The boy caught his lip between his teeth and clutched the book to his chest for a moment. Then he walked in a diagonal between the two men, heading for the front desk. His father turned his head to look after him, and his eyes met Neville's. He stiffened, his mouth and eyebrows forming straight lines. "Longbottom," he said, "what are you doing here?"
Neville could feel the tension in his own body. Not that he was scared of Snape; he had lost his fear of him sometime during that terrible seventh year, but to be seeing and hearing a dead man - well, that would shock anyone. "I'm buying a book," he answered warily, and waited.
"Obviously," Snape said. "Why here? Couldn't you get what you needed at Flourish and Blotts?"
Neville shook his head. "It's a Muggle herbal," he explained. "Hermione found it for me, on the internet, but I wanted to actually see it before I bought it."
"So here you are," Snape sighed, "and I am at your mercy."
Neville raised his chin and looked straight at him. "Do you need my mercy, sir? After all, you're-"
"Dead," Snape finished the sentence for him. Neville was about to speak, but Snape shook his head at him. The little boy was coming back, head down. His hands were empty. "They wouldn't lower the price?" the man asked.
"No. Cos they already have, Miss Carter said. But she said they would keep it for me till I had enough money," the child added, brightening a little.
"And your birthday money is all gone?"
The boy looked up at his father's face with a startled expression. "Course!" he answered. "I had to buy the tank and everything. You know! And then we had to let Tommy go, anyway."
"So you've no money left at all?"
"I might have a pound. And sixty pence."
"Well. That's very precise," Snape said, straight-faced. "But if Miss Carter says she'll keep the book for you, she will. Christopher," and his voice dropped a little. He touched the child lightly on the back, as if to turn him. "This is Mr. Longbottom. I used to teach him, a long time ago. Say hello to him."
The little boy had indeed turned to face Neville. Now he stepped forward with his right hand outstretched, saying, "Hello, Mr. Longbottom. It's nice to meet you."
"It's nice to meet you, too, Christopher," Neville responded, and took the small hand and shook it. "Do you have a pet snake?"
"No," Christopher answered. "Not any more. We had to let Tommy go because he wouldn't eat. But I'm getting a lizard, I hope. A slowworm. They look like snakes, but they're lizards, really. Do you know how you can tell?"
"No," Neville answered, bemused. "How can you tell?"
"Because they have eyelids. Snakes don't. Isn't that cool?"
"Cool" was not the adjective Neville would have used, but it was impossible not to respond to the child's enthusiasm. "I didn't know that," he said. "What other differences are there?"
"Lots! Their scales are different, and their ears, and they can lose their tails and grow them back again, and-"
"Christopher," Snape interrupted. "You're delaying Mr. Longbottom. He needs to buy his book." Then, to Neville, he said, "Would you like to come home with us? After all, we haven't seen each other in quite some time, have we? I'm sure we have a great deal to say to each other."
It was a request, but Neville sensed a command under the polite form of the words. Or perhaps that was his imagination? But it was true; they had a great deal to say to each other. "I would be honored," he answered, equally formally.
Snape nodded. "We'll wait for you outside," he said, and he took his son's hand in his and walked swiftly past Neville and out the shop door. A small bell tinkled as the door closed behind them.
It took Neville awhile to gather the right amount of Muggle money from his pockets and pay for the book, but Snape and his son were still waiting for him when he emerged into the bright August afternoon. "This way," Snape said to him. "We'll make the 4:20 if we hurry."
A few minutes later, they were on a bus driving over a bridge. Snape had paid for Neville's ticket before Neville could get the fare together, which was embarrassing. He had waved away the payment Neville tried to give him. Christopher smiled at him from his seat across the aisle. "Do you have any pets?" he asked.
"Yes. I have a toad."
"Cool! I'd like a toad."
"I shouldn't," Snape muttered. Then he said aloud, "not the same one, is it?"
"Believe it or not, yes. Trevor's 21 now; they say it's some kind of record."
"Does the thing still have the habit of hiding in inconvenient corners?"
"Yes, actually, he does," Neville answered. "He never got to be very friendly."
"That's okay," Christopher said wisely. He had stood up, as had his father, and Neville followed their example. "You can't expect a toad to be friendly. They're not smart enough."
"Lizards, however, are the geniuses of the reptile world, are they?"
"Dad," the little boy groaned.
"Mr. Longbottom had that toad when he wasn't much older than you. The thing was a menace; I'm amazed it's still alive."
"Da-ad! How can a toad be a menace?"
"You have no idea," Snape muttered. They were walking slightly uphill now, up a narrow, cobbled street with a chimney looming ahead of them. A few of the houses they passed had a derelict look, with boarded-up windows, but many more had curtains in the windows and brightly-painted doors. At the last such door on the right, Snape stopped and pulled out a key. Neville wondered for a moment why the man didn't simply use his wand, but then he reflected that Snape was in very deep cover indeed. Perhaps the Muggle act had become automatic by now. Snape turned the key one way, tried the door handle, and then turned it the other way. "Ah," he said, "open after all. Someone's home. After you, Longbottom," and he held the door open, gesturing with his other hand.
Neville walked ahead of Snape and his son into a small sitting room. His first impression was of books, in a pile on a small table and leaning against each other on bookshelves lining the walls. There was a silver-white machine on one of the bookshelves, or rather, on a desk built into them. Neville didn't know whether it was a television or a computer. On another shelf was an empty glass tank, apparently awaiting young Christopher's lizard. Neville took in all this at a glance. Snape, behind him, called out, "Jane?"
"Mam's gone shopping, Dad," a treble voice answered. "She went with aunt Maggie and Mrs. Costello. She told us to tell you she'll be back for tea, but she might be late. She took the mobile."
Snape had walked past Neville and opened another door. Two black-haired little girls were in the next room, which proved to be a kitchen. Both of them had flour on their hands, and Neville glimpsed a large bowl, a packet of flour, and some measuring spoons on the table behind them. The smaller girl, who had curly hair, smiled and said, "Hello, Mr. Griffin."
"Hello, Dina," Snape responded. "Lily? This is Mr. Longbottom, from the school I used to teach at."
The taller girl stepped forward, slapped her hand against the leg of her jeans and then held it out to him. "Hello, Mr. Longbottom. Are you a teacher, too?"
Neville took her hand and shook it, smiling in response to her smile. "Yes, I am," he said.
"What do you teach?"
"Herbology," Neville answered, but at the same time Snape said, "Botany." The child frowned.
"Botany? You mean, plants? Do a lot of people study that?"
"Oh, quite a few," Snape answered, before Neville could respond. "Don't they, Longbottom?"
"The whole school, actually, up to fifth year, " Neville said.
"You don't teach straight biology, then? About animals, too?"
"Well, that's a separate subject. You see," Neville began, but Snape interrupted again. "Would you like something to drink, Longbottom? Tea, or coffee, or beer?"
It was a warm day. Neville considered briefly, then answered, "I'd like a beer, thank you."
"Very well." Snape opened the door to a white cupboard and pulled out two bottles, then took two glasses from another, higher cupboard. "Would you mind carrying the glasses, Longbottom?" he said.
Christopher, in the meantime, had found a glass for himself and opened up the white cupboard. "Chris," the little girl called Dina said, "Sam and Sean and all of them were wanting to play five a side."
"Didn't you want to play?" Neville heard Christopher ask.
"Lily wanted to experiment, so we came home," Dina answered in her quiet voice.
"Is your experiment edible? If it is, I'll help." With that, the kitchen door closed behind the children, and Neville was alone in the front room with Snape. "Sit," the man said to him, gesturing to one of the chairs. Then, after a pause, he added, "please."
It was just like Snape to start ordering him around like a dog, Neville thought. But there was no point in getting angry. "Thank you," he responded quietly, and sat in the chair Snape had indicated, setting his paper-wrapped book down on the table next to him. Snape sat in the other chair, swept a pile of books off the table and onto the floor, and pried the caps off the two bottles. He poured the contents into the glasses and handed one to Neville. "To old times. May they never return," he said with a twisted smile, and raised his glass. Startled, Neville raised his in return, and sipped at the cool, foamy liquid. For a moment, both men were silent, and Neville could hear the three children chattering and laughing in the kitchen beyond. Snape turned his head towards the voices, and his lips tilted upward a bit. But then he swung back to Neville. "I'm sure you have many questions, Longbottom, " he said. "I'll tell you what I can, but first- What happened? When Potter - " he paused, and Neville saw him swallow. "I thought - he must have won; somehow he must have won; the mark has faded, but how - what happened after the Dark Lord killed him?"
"I didn't see it all," Neville responded. "But Voldemort didn't kill Harry. He thought he had, but he didn't. None of his spells would work against us, after that. Then he tried to kill Harry a second time, but the spell rebounded and he died, instead. Harry used "expelliarmus" on him."
"Expelliarmus," Snape murmured. "I taught him that spell."
Of course! Neville thought. The duelling club, second year, when Snape had refused to allow him to duel Justin Finch Fletchly in front of everyone. "So I did some good, after all," Snape was saying.
"Of course you did, sir," Neville responded stoutly. "You're a hero. You were always Dumbledore's man. Everyone knows that; Harry told everybody. That day, you know, when we thought you had died."
"Dumbledore's man. Well, I suppose so, after a fashion. A hero, am I, Longbottom?" And Snape again smiled that twisted, mirthless smile. "I think you'll find there are those who would not agree with you." He stood up, and began to pace back and forth in front of the small hearth. There was a jam jar full of wildflowers above the fireplace; at a glance Neville recognized hawkbit and a sprig of heather, and he wondered if the absent Jane had picked and arranged the flowers. But then Snape stopped and looked straight at him again. "I should like to know," he said, "the snake - what happened to the snake?"
"I killed her, sir," Neville said.
Snape had gone very pale when he mentioned Nagini. "Then I am in your debt," he said. His voice was flat and quiet.
"No," Neville answered. "You're not. I just did what I had to do. We all did."
"Possibly," Snape said. "I am in your debt nonetheless." Neville shook his head. He was sure Snape was wrong, and wished he could think of some argument that would convince him, but he could not. The man had begun pacing again. After a moment, Neville asked, "What happened to you, sir?"
"What happened to me?" Snape repeated. "Longbottom - you must understand there are certain things - there is a great deal I don't remember. That whole life," he paused, and swallowed, "there are times when it seems like a dream to me. Or a nightmare. Jane tells me I still have nightmares sometimes. I don't remember them, though. I try not to remember. God!" he exclaimed with sudden vehemence, "I wish I could obliviate you!"
His voice was quiet, but Neville flinched slightly, all the same, and felt for his own wand, safe in the inner pocket of his jacket. "I'd rather you didn't do that," he responded, just as quietly.
Snape noticed the gesture. "And you'll fight me if I try? Don't worry, Longbottom," he said, with another of those bleak smiles. "I won't try." He returned to his chair and slumped into it, staring straight ahead as if collecting his thoughts. Neville waited. After a moment, the man sighed and looked at Neville. "I think I may actually have died that day. I don't know; as I said, I don't remember a great deal. But it was the classic experience people have written about, or so Jane tells me. A light, and voices, and I think there was music. It seemed to me that I would see the people I loved, but I was told I had to go back. That I was not ready. And I wept. When I opened my eyes, there was a flash of gold; I think it must have been the phoenix. I was alone, in that place -" Snape shuddered - "and it came to me that there was a battle, and that perhaps I had been sent back to fight. Then I could die again, striking a blow against him. Potter never knew this; no one in that world knew it, I think, but I had wanted to kill that monster since I was nineteen. I wanted to be the one to bring him down. And I thought, since Lily's son had to give himself up and die, perhaps I had been sent back in his stead. To kill the man who had killed him and his mother. So I picked up my wand, and, do you know, Longbottom?" His eyes met Neville's. "it was a stick of wood; nothing more. I could do nothing with it."
"I'm sorry," Neville said.
"You needn't be. I am not; not anymore. I still have it; would you believe," he added. "Ten and a quarter inches; birch and dragon heartstring. One of Ollivander's. It was the first thing I ever owned that hadn't belonged to someone else before me."
Neville nodded. He remembered very well how proud and pleased he had been, at 16, to finally get his own wand, and how comfortable it had felt in his hand. He was sure he could never part with it, even if he, too, lost his magic. "What happened then?" he asked. "What did you do?"
"What did I do?" Snape repeated. He stared straight ahead for a moment, as if to gather his thoughts, and Neville saw him swallow. "I walked," he answered softly. " The children are reading a book now, about a dog that walks from the highlands back home to Yorkshire. I was that dog, only the dogcatchers weren't after me, thank God. I skirted Hogsmeade and headed over the mountains, south and east. I was in a daze, and still weak from loss of blood, and I suppose I wasn't very rational. All I could think; all I could keep my mind on, was that I had to get home. It's as well no one saw me. I must have looked terrifying, like the Bloody Baron. When I came to a burn I washed as well as I could, and drank. I was terribly thirsty, and I realized I needed to drink as much as I could. So I drank whenever I came to water that seemed clean, and I just walked. I think I walked for three days before I came to a road with traffic on it. Cars. I began walking on that road because it was going in the right direction, and then, as the sun was setting, one of those cars stopped to give me a lift. That man brought me to his home."
"A Muggle?" Neville asked, for Snape had stopped talking. He'd picked up his glass, drunk from it as if re-experiencing the thirst he'd spoken about, and was now staring blankly. It was as if he'd forgotten Neville was there. But, as Neville spoke, Snape rounded on him, his eyes flashing. "A human being," he answered. His voice was almost a snarl, and Neville stiffened and gripped his wand again, convinced the man was about to attack him. Snape, however, sighed, his shoulders dropping. "It's what you've been taught, isn't it?" he said. "That Wizards and Muggles are different; that Muggles are inferior? You can't help it. I was taught the same, and look where it led me."
"Not inferior. I don't think that. I never thought-" Neville began,.
"Really?" Snape said, with that familiar smirk, and he stared straight into Neville's eyes. Neville stared back, chin up, and said nothing. "Well. Perhaps not," Snape said. "You actually are a good person, Longbottom. I must try to remember that." Neville flushed, suspecting an insult, but then he saw that Snape had flushed, too, and looked away. "I am sorry," he said, sounding rather breathless. "I should not have twitted you on what you have been taught. I think - I think I did not teach you well. There were times when I was needlessly cruel to you. I am sorry."
"You taught us well, sir," Neville answered. As he spoke, he realized it was true; Snape had in fact taught them well and thoroughly, especially defense. "You kept us safe; as safe as you could. You don't have to apologize."
"Don't I?" Snape murmured. His voice was so quiet Neville had to strain to hear him. "I tried; God knows I tried, but I sometimes think I could have done better."
There was another pause. Snape was looking down, turning his glass in his hands. "What happened with the m- the man?" Neville asked him. "the man in the car who picked you up?"
"Calum Anderson," Snape said. "Calum and Jenny. They were very good to me; good beyond all reason. They gave me a bed, and fed me, and gave me some old clothes of Calum's, and they asked no questions. I told them, of course, everything I could. It seemed safe to tell them most of the truth; somehow I knew they would listen and not judge. Of course," and he smiled again, " I knew they didn't believe me; not entirely. How should they? They probably thought I was raving with fever. But they didn't judge me. After three days, I was well enough to travel again, and Calum drove me to Glasgow and gave me money for a train to York. Then I walked again. When I got to my house - this house - all the protective spells had been broken. That's why I think I must actually have died, before the phoenix came. There is not much more to tell. I had some acquaintances here, and I began to learn how to live. I began to live, Longbottom," he said, with some passion. "When I look back, it seems to me that I was barely alive, before. You're sorry for me now, aren't you? You're sitting here thinking, 'Poor bastard; he used to be such a powerful wizard'"
"Um - well," Neville said. He actually had been thinking that: to be stripped of one's magic seemed a fate almost worse than death. It seemed almost like having one's soul sucked out by a dementor. When he was very small, magic had terrified him, true, and he'd sometimes wished he and his parents had been born Muggles. He'd believed they would have been safe then, because they would have been anonymous. On the other hand, he'd realized, Muggles couldn't defend themselves against wizards. And he was a wizard; he'd been a wizard practically from the day he was born. Snape had, as well. How could you learn to live without magic if you'd had it all your life? Before he could say anything more, Snape continued.
"It's not so. When I was a wizard, I was entrapped in a sort of half-life as the slave of two masters who used me for their own ends. I am free now. I'm well rid of the whole boiling of them."
"Yes. I see," Neville said.
Snape smirked again. "I was going to say that there was nothing at all I miss in the Wizarding World, but that would not be true. I do miss being able to fly. But what I lost that day is much, much less than what I have now. I still don't know," he added quietly, "why, exactly, I was sent back. What my mission is. I haven't done anything so extraordinary in this life. But I have been happy. I know," he continued, turning his empty glass in his fingers and staring into it, " that I don't deserve this happiness. I've done nothing to earn it. But I am grateful for it, nonetheless."
For a moment, there was complete silence. The children in the next room seemed to have finished their experiment; a door had slammed a moment before, and there was a good smell of warm dough and anisette. Snape tilted his head, listening, and then went to the kitchen door and opened it, to reveal the bowl and other implements draining in the dish rack and a misshapen loaf of bread on the table. He closed the door again and, turning to Neville, said, "Would you like another beer, Longbottom?"
"No, thank you," Neville answered. Snape returned to his chair and there was another pause. Snape had again picked up his glass and started twiddling it; as Neville watched, his fingers clenched on it so hard Neville was afraid he would crush it. What did you do for multiple glass cuts? Neville could do anything with plants, but he wasn't much good at healing spells. "Longbottom," Snape said, and his voice was tight, "Will you tell me - what are you going to do?"
"Do?" Neville repeated. For a moment, he was bewildered, but then he understood what the man was asking, and once he understood, he didn't need to think. The flowers on the mantelpiece and the fresh-baked bread in the kitchen; Lily's searching, forthright gaze and her experiments; Christopher's chatter about reptiles; a small pair of boots and a ball in a corner near the door - he simply saw all these things, and, as far as Neville was concerned, there was no decision to be made. "I won't betray you, sir," he said. Then he felt himself smiling. "Anyway, no-one would believe me if I did," he added.
He heard Snape exhale in a sort of sigh - the man must have been holding his breath - and saw his shoulders relax. "Thank you, Longbottom. I am greatly in your debt," Snape said, and his eyes met Neville's.
"You're not," Neville said. He was afraid his frustration was audible in his voice, but honestly! How could he make Snape understand? Debt and obligation and honor and all those Slytherin things just didn't enter into it. Even if it were true that Snape would be feted as a hero - and, Neville realized, there were still those who wanted to punish him, instead - he would never betray this family. He wouldn't even think of it. If he did, he wouldn't be Neville Longbottom, but someone quite different. Neville preferred to remain Neville, and he knew what he had to do to be the man he wanted to be. It was that simple. But, from what he remembered, Snape had never appreciated simplicity.
"I am," Snape said quietly. "You killed the serpent."
"But that - it could have been anyone! It was just luck, that I got the chance. Harry asked me to kill it, and I got the chance, and I did. It was easy!"
"It was easy," Snape repeated, in that flat, tight voice. "It was not easy for me. And do you really believe in luck, Longbottom?" Those dark eyes stared into his as if challenging him, and, after a moment, Neville had to look away. "You used the sword, didn't you?" Snape continued.
"Yes. But honestly, sir, it doesn't matter, I just-"
"I think it does," Snape said. "By the way, Longbottom, you needn't call me 'sir'. I'm not your teacher any more, if I ever was." His mouth twisted a little, into that familiar smirk, and he added, "Perhaps I should be calling you 'sir'. Head of Gryffindor house, are you?"
"That's right. But you don't have to call me 'sir', honestly. Longbottom is fine. What would you like me to call you?" Neville added warily.
"Michael, I think. That's what people call me now." At Neville's puzzled expression, Snape explained, "It was - is - my middle name. Severus is a wizard's name, and I didn't want that. I didn't want any part of that life. It's all past. At least, it was," Snape added, "until I was fool enough to speak your name in the Carter's bookshop. I should have just ignored you; pretended not to know you." He held up his hand as Neville opened his mouth to protest. "I know. You have promised to keep my secret, and you are an honest person. You try to keep your promises. Believe it or not, Longbottom," and he smiled again, "that was something I admired in you, back then. But keeping a secret like this one is a burden for you. I should rather not have given you that burden."
And they were back once more, Neville thought, to Snape's utter lack of understanding. He just didn't know, couldn't know, what sort of person Neville was or how he thought. Resigned, Neville decided he wasn't even going to try to explain again. Instead, he said simply, "It's not a burden. I told you already, even if I did say anything, no one would believe me. They'd just laugh."
"Well. That's as may be. Still - " and Snape paused, "it seems to me - Longbottom - " There was another pause. Neville, looking at him in puzzlement, saw that he was flushed, as if with embarrassment, and was looking down now, rather than into Neville's face. "What's the matter?" Neville asked.
Snape looked up. "Nothing," he said, and his voice was tight again. "Only - it is a great deal to ask of you, I know, but I was wondering if you would accept a gift from me?"
Neville's first impulse was to answer, "Yes, of course," but Snape seemed so troubled that he thought it better to be cautious. "What sort of gift?" he asked.
"Nothing dangerous," Snape answered. "Only a few words, and some beads. Will you take them?"
Neville's wariness increased. "Words?" he said doubtfully.
Snape sighed. "A blessing," he answered. "My gran gave it to me, and she had it from her grandfather. It carries one obligation with it; whoever receives it, must pass it on. I had thought it would go to Christopher, but now you are here-"
Neville interrupted him. "I don't want to take it, if Christopher should have it. That wouldn't be right."
Snape answered, very quietly, "I have nothing else to give you, Longbottom. Nothing of value. And I should like to give you something."
"That's not necessary. You don't need to give me anything, really. I don't want to take something that should be in your family."
There was a pause. Snape was staring straight ahead again, and as Neville watched, he clenched one fist on his knee. His expression was somber. "Of course, I imagined Christopher would have it, but he is too young. He doesn't need it. And I have nothing else to give. Would it make any difference," and he turned his head to look into Neville's eyes, "if I told you that you would be doing me a kindness by accepting it?"
It was, Neville sensed, a serious question, and he considered it seriously. If the man wanted to make amends for his previous unkindness, shouldn't he let him? It came to him that it was wrong to refuse an apology, however clumsily worded, or to reject a gift someone gave you freely. "Yes. It would," he answered.
"Then will you do me that kindness?"
"Yes."
Snape exhaled sharply, as though he had been holding his breath again. "Thank you," he said. He stood and walked to the hearth, stopping in front of it. "Would you kneel here, please. Longbottom?" he said.
Surprised, Neville got up, took the couple of steps to where Snape was standing, and then knelt, a bit clumsily, on the carpet in front of the grate. Snape was to one side of him; Neville turned his head to look at the other man, but heard him say, "No. Just keep still and listen." He felt Snape's hand touch the top of his head, and his voice saying words in a language Neville didn't understand. Then Snape's hand lifted. After a brief pause, he said, "It's done. You may get up now," and Neville clambered to his feet. He turned to face Snape, who brought a string of wooden beads to his lips, then held them out to Neville. "Take it," Snape said. "Keep it by you - that's what my gran told me. And I did, you know, every day since then, until now. It must be thirty five years ago. You needn't pray on them, if you don't want to," he added with a swift smile. "I didn't. Not very often."
"Thank you," Neville said, not knowing what else to say. Snape nodded. After another brief pause, he said, "I'll write out the words for you, with a translation, so you can remember. You're not obliged to say it in Irish. That's just the way it was done in my family."
"Thank you," Neville repeated. "I'll give it back to Christopher, if I can."
"I should appreciate that," Snape said. His eyes were very bright, and Neville realized, with a shock, that there were tears in them. "But only if it's possible. If it seems right. You will know," he added, "whom to give it to, and when. You'll know. It might be someone you haven't met yet."
He had gone to the desk and taken out a piece of paper and was writing rapidly on it. Neville, as he watched and waited, came to a firm resolve. The blessing would go back to Christopher; that was what his father had wanted. Snape had made his apology, and Neville had accepted it. When the time was right; when Christopher was grown up, he would give this gift back to him.
Snape handed him the piece of paper. "Don't worry now about passing it on," he said. "You cannot anticipate who should receive it. To take one example, I never imagined I should be giving it to you."
"But when-" Neville began, but Snape interrupted him. "Head of Gryffindor, eh?" he said.
"That's right, " Neville answered. "I was appointed this summer."
"Then you need all the luck you can get. Who knows," Snape added, "you might be headmaster of Hogwarts someday."
"I don't think so. The headmaster doesn't teach. I like teaching." Then Neville blushed, thinking he should perhaps have said something different, something like, "I hope I do as well as you did." But perhaps Snape would have taken that the wrong way. He didn't want to insult the man.
"Would you like to stay for tea? Jane will be back in ten minutes or so."
Neville took that as his cue to leave. "No, thank you. Please tell her I'm sorry to have missed her; maybe I'll meet her another time. And tell Christopher and Lily goodbye for me."
Snape nodded. "They liked you," he said.
"I liked them, too. Tell Christopher I hope he gets his slowworm, and I'll bring Trevor to meet him if I come again." But at that, Snape got a rather pinched expression. "Please, Longbottom," he said, "If you do come again, leave the toad behind."
Neville couldn't help grinning at that. Some things never changed, it seemed. "Well, goodbye," he said, and held out his hand to Snape. The man took it, rather more awkwardly than his children had, and shook it briefly. "Goodbye, Longbottom. And thank you."
"You're welcome," Neville answered. "Don't worry. I won't forget." Snape nodded and opened the door for him. It was only after it closed behind him that it occurred to him he should perhaps have thanked Snape, as well, for the gift he had been given. But it was too late now. He began to walk back down towards the bus stop, where there was a bench. When he came to it, he sat down, took the paper Snape had given him out of his pocket, and began to read.
The blessing of God upon you:
May Christ and his mother guard you;
May the saints and the angels keep you from harm.
May all creation shelter you:
The sun, the moon and the stars,
The still and the moving airs;
The waters on earth, and above the earth;
All things that are green and blossom; -
And at that, Neville stopped reading to blink away tears. It came to him that he, who had been effectively orphaned and who had no brothers and sisters, had just been welcomed into a family. These people - Snape, who now called himself Michael; his children; his wife - were his people. He would never betray them. He'd promised that just a few minutes ago: he'd promised to keep Snape's secret, but now he felt the full weight of that promise. He swallowed and put the paper back in his pocket, next to his wand and the string of beads. He would read it again, and memorize it, when he got home.
As a child, he'd been forgetful, and sometimes his friends still teased him for his absent-mindedness. But Neville knew that he would never forget any part of this day. He could still hear Snape's voice murmuring the foreign words over him, and feel the pressure of the man's hand on his head.
When the time came, he would pass the blessing on. He would remember.
Mary Johnson, November, 2007
author's note: For some reason, I felt compelled, after reading of the challenge on Snapedom, to reconcile my personal canon with DH. This is my attempt to do so. From now on, the Griffin family is entirely free of the Potterverse. This story is a sequel/companion story to two others: "The Blessing" and "Tommy Serpent". Both are on my blog. The full text of the blessing Severus Michael Snape gives to Neville is included in "The Blessing".
I was a bit surprised to discover that Neville was the person Snape gave the blessing to, but it feels right. I am very fond of Neville, and hope I have done him justice here.
A second note: Two days after writing and posting this, I realized the bookshop scene, which several of you have praised, was influenced by a Sayers short story about Lord Peter and his ten-year-old nephew. I had not remembered this while writing, but, now that I do remember, I want to thank and credit Sayers, who certainly was an influence on me. The story, my sister tells me, is called "The Dragon's Head". If you haven't read it, it's well worth a look.
