Chapter Text
The house on Spinner’s End was dim, dirty and sweltering in the late August heat. Severus Snape sat in his father’s arm chair and cursed every decision he had ever made in his life.
Three months after the war had ended and he was still confined to his hated childhood home, wandless and awaiting trial. The Ministry was making excruciatingly slow progress in investigating the suspected supporters of the Dark Lord. He suspected it was on purpose, at least in his case.
Despite his actions at Hogwarts in May and the fact that the Potter brat was willing to vouch for him, no one was willing to overlook his apparent betrayal and murder of Dumbledore. Not for the first time, he wished that he had not been quite so successful in convincing all the members of the Order of the Phoenix of his duplicity.
But, the need to fool the Dark Lord had outweighed any considerations about proving his loyalty after the war. One unguarded thought would have meant his death. In fact, despite the secrecy and his Occlumency, when the Dark Lord had fallen, he had been surprised at his own survival.
Not that survival meant much when he had been left with nothing.
Severus growled and took another drink of muggle whiskey from the glass sitting on the rickety table beside him. He had hoped for some support, at least from the colleagues who had known him for years, but the letter now discarded on the table had put those hopes to rest.
Minerva had been polite but firm. There was no place at Hogwarts for Severus, not with the accusations swirling around him and definitely not after the horrors of his tenure as Headmaster. It apparently didn’t matter why he had done it; it only mattered that he had.
“Blind fools,” he muttered. He should have known. It took a Slytherin to see the entire board and play the game to its completion. Still, this wouldn’t be the first time in his life that he had been without support. He’d always managed in the past.
Around him the room had darkened past the point where he could easily reply to the letter. The chandelier of candles above him remained unlit. Without his wand, lighting the candles was nearly impossible and certainly not worth his time.
Deciding he’d reply in the morning, Severus drained the last of the whiskey in his glass and refilled it, letting his mind turn to practicalities. For the moment, he had an adequate living situation. Despite the challenges with lighting, it cost him nothing and, most importantly, it was safe.
His most pressing issue, it seemed, was his lack of income. He had some savings, but nothing that would last indefinitely. Worryingly though, he had no means of earning without his wand. After a few minutes of futile brainstorming and another glass of whiskey, he decided to leave that headache for the morning. His head was starting to swim from what must have been his third or fourth glass of whiskey anyway.
He slumped back in his chair and let his head droop forward over his chest, drifting off to sleep. Soon he was shifting restlessly in his chair. Dreams of suffering under the Cruciatus curse melded into dreams of the Dark Lord ordering him to deal with innocent muggles. The tearstained face of the little muggle girl morphed into the Lovegood girl’s distraught face as she was dragged off to the Malfoy cellars.
The clanking of her chains permeated his dreams until he awoke with a start. There was an owl, tapping at his window. Sweating and nauseous, Severus occluded, forcing the unpleasant memories to the back of his mind and encasing them in ice. Once calm, he dragged himself to his feet and over to the window, moving a stack of books off the window sill and out of the way. He forced the window open, grimacing as it tried to stick, and the owl flew in.
It perched on the back of his arm chair and held out its leg, letting Severus take the attached letter. He turned it over in his hand, wondering who would be writing to him. Opening it, he held it up to the window to take advantage of the poor light from the moon. Squinting, he was able to make out a few lines of atrocious but familiar handwriting.
Eyes swooping down to the signature, his suspicions were confirmed. The Potter brat had written to him – likely with some unreasonable request. Severus sighed and read:
Snape,
I heard that the Ministry hasn’t processed your case yet. I have a proposition for you that I think you will want to hear. Can we arrange a meeting in person tomorrow?
Harry Potter
He glared at the owl, which preened unconcernedly. Wasn’t it bad enough that Potter Senior, the arrogant bully that he was, had stolen the girl he loved? Now he was the recipient of unwanted correspondence from Potter Junior?
Since the defeat of the Dark Lord, Harry Potter had been celebrated widely and Severus had been forced to admit, reluctantly and only in his thoughts, that the boy had indeed acted heroically.
Worst of all, he knew that he owed Harry Potter his life. Not just for the defeat of the Dark Lord, but for casting a powerful stasis charm and apparating him to a Healer before he could bleed out after he had been savaged by the Dark Lord’s snake. The thought rankled.
Idly, Severus wondered what Potter wanted. Likely, the brat wanted assistance in his pursuit of Auror training. Or perhaps he wanted access to rare and illegal potions ingredients. Severus would put nothing past the entitled child who had had his head severely inflated by fame over the last few months.
Still, Severus had few options at this point in time. Perhaps he could consider doing Potter a favour in return for assistance with the Ministry. Since his only other option was waiting for the incompetent Ministry to fairly assess his actions during the war, it seemed he had no choice.
Jaw set, Severus sorted through the detritus on the side table until he found a quill. He flipped the letter over and scribbled his reply on the back in the poor light.
Fine. 11am at Spinner’s End. You may use the floo.
SS
He strode across the room and attached the letter to the willing owl’s leg. Then he shooed it out and closed the window firmly behind it. Already regretting agreeing to the meeting, he made his way to the hidden staircase and climbed up to his childhood room. Morning would come too soon for him to spend the rest of the night in his chair.
*
The next day found Severus attempting to build a fire in his fireplace without magic. The fireplace had been a magical addition to his laboratory back when he had converted his muggle childhood home into a place fit for a wizard to live, even if the wizard only lived there part-time.
Now, he glared at the jars of potions ingredients on his shelves, wishing for his wand yet again. He felt crippled by its absence. Worse, he felt like an impotent teenager, trapped in the muggle world for the summer. Except this summer might last forever, depending on how vindictive the Ministry felt.
Transferring his glare back to the crumpled sheets of newspaper in the grate, old editions of the Daily Prophet finally providing some use, he lit another muggle match and carefully held it to the edge of one sheet. This time the match didn’t blow out prematurely and the paper caught.
Severus smiled slightly as the fire spread through front-page pictures of Potter and his friends, and consumed headlines about the Dark Lord’s downfall. He watched as the fire grew and added wood to the flames before stepping back.
A short time later, the flames turned green and Potter stumbled out, closely followed by Hermione Granger. He met Severus’s eyes as Granger brushed ash off her clothing and Severus inwardly flinched. Even after a decade, he had not grown accustomed to seeing Lily’s eyes in Potter’s face.
Imperiously, he swept to the door, gesturing for the two teens to follow him into his sitting room. He directed them to sit on his uncomfortable sofa and sank into his armchair.
Steepling his hands, he fixed them with his best intimidating glare. “Ms. Granger, Mr. Potter. To what do I owe the dubious pleasure?”
Granger shifted uncomfortably, clearly nervous. She had always been an eager, if overly-enthusiastic, student. If it hadn’t been for her association with Potter, he would have enjoyed teaching her. The part of him that had been trained by war to continually assess others for weaknesses noted that she would be the one to press for more information or concessions. Her desire to please a previous professor would make her vulnerable.
Potter, on the other hand, would be more difficult to intimidate. He looked back at Severus steadily but without heat. Whatever he thought of Severus’s actions during the war, he wasn’t letting it impact him now. Severus wondered if he had even learned to occlude.
“We—that is, I had an idea, Professor Snape.” Granger said earnestly. “I really think it will help you and Re– er, other interested parties. It honestly makes sense for you to agree.”
She paused there and Severus had to restrain himself from rolling his eyes. She still had the bad habit of jumping ahead and assuming her audience already knew what she knew. “To what am I agreeing?” he said.
Granger took a deep breath as if steeling herself to deliver unpleasant news. “Have you heard of SAP? The Sanctuary and Assistance Program?” she asked.
He had heard of it, terrible acronym and all. When Severus had read in the Prophet that wizarding families were opening their own homes to other witches and wizards that had been displaced during the war, he had wondered what fool would be willing to have their living space invaded. It seemed he was about to become one of those fools.
He nodded and she continued, warming to her subject. “There were so many wizarding dwellings lost during the war. No one can rebuild fast enough. Quite a few families are still staying at Hogwarts but with school starting in just a few days, we need to find other places for them to live.”
“I assume you want me to offer to be one of those places.” Unlikely, Severus thought. Not unless what he was being offered in return was very persuasive.
“Well, yes.” She nodded and sat back, as if confident that her argument was complete and he would agree solely out of the goodness of his heart. Severus had to restrain himself from rolling his eyes again. It still wasn’t clear what was in this for him.
“And I would do this because?” He let the sentence hang. He certainly wasn’t known for having a soft heart.
“It would help your reputation.” Potter spoke for the first time. “When the Ministry reviews your actions during the war, it would help if you were able to show you acted differently once Voldemort was dead.”
“A very minor benefit.” Although not without its merits. It might be worthwhile even if it meant having strangers around. Still, if they were coming to him , they must be desperate. If he held out, he could likely get more concessions.
“And Hermione and I would speak for you.” Potter was still eerily composed, a direct contrast to how he used to behave at Hogwarts, and Severus wondered what else he had planned.
“You’ve already given testimony in my favour, and Ms. Granger’s testimony is much less valuable,” Severus pointed out. “That’s hardly likely to convince me.”
“We can get you your wand back.”
Stunned, Severus carefully maintained his neutral expression. Having his wand would change everything. House arrest would be tolerable. He could make potions again. Maybe he could even find a way to make money. But, there had to be a catch. Nothing in his life was ever that easy.
“How?” he asked. “Surely the Ministry is not so desperate for volunteers that they’re willing to give me back my wand just for housing one down-on-their-luck family.”
Potter met his eyes coolly again. “Because you’ll need your wand to make Wolfsbane Potion.”
Severus rose violently from his chair to tower over the pair on his sofa as the pieces of the puzzle came together. Bad enough having a stranger in his house. Having an old schoolmate, not to mention a werewolf, would be intolerable. “You want me to host that, that wolf?” he spat.
“But it’s perfect, Professor Snape,” Granger leaned forward again. Her eyes were wide and guileless. “You’re the only one who can host him safely because you can make Wolfsbane. And what better way to show the Ministry that you don’t care about blood status than to live with a werewolf?”
“And who knows how long the Ministry will take to prepare your trial?” Potter said. “Wouldn’t you rather have your wand?”
The carrot and the stick. They had come well prepared.
Raging internally, Severus smoothed out his expression and lowered himself into his armchair again. Using Occlumency to tuck away childhood memories of bullying and a very reasonable fear of werewolves, he considered the problem.
It had already been three long, miserable months without his wand and continuing this way would be unbearable, now that he knew he had another option. He also hadn’t missed the veiled threat in Potter’s words. If he didn’t agree, who knew when his trial would actually take place.
On the other hand, living with a werewolf was the height of stupidity, regardless of his identity. All it would take was one misbrewed potion or forgotten dose and he’d be fighting for his life. And the danger would happen every month.
Not to mention, the werewolf in question was Lupin, the close friend of Potter Senior and Black, his childhood bullies. Even if Lupin had rarely targeted him directly, he had been there and done nothing. Living with him now would be uncomfortable, to say the least.
Thinking quickly, Severus came to a decision. Having his wand back was an advantage he couldn’t ignore. With his wand and his expertise in potions, he could keep himself safe from a werewolf. And maybe this was an opportunity for a little revenge on a childhood bully. After all, it was his house and Lupin was merely a supplicant for his aid. He would have all the power.
“Agreed,” Severus said, before he had time to second guess himself. Granger and Potter smiled but thankfully contained any childish outbursts of excitement.
“Excellent,” Potter said. “He’ll be here on the first of September then. A Ministry official will come with him to give you your wand.”
The pair rose and he quickly ushered them back through his laboratory and into the Floo. Once they were safely gone, Severus returned to his sitting room to sag into his chair. Had he really agreed to let the wolf live with him? Merlin help him.