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Shoddy News


Regulus Black could tell that there was something very, very wrong when Horace Slughorn came into the Great Hall, his face gaunt as he looked around from the doorway toward the Slytherin house table. Several other Slytherins noticed, too. “Somebody’s getting shoddy news,” muttered Evan Rosier as Slughorn started their way.

“Bloody hope it’s my dad been murdered,” muttered Barty Crouch under his breath.

Regulus looked to Severus, hoping that Severus Snape might have overheard Slughorn’s thoughts and possibly be giving away who it was by looking at the poor bloke… and he was giving it away who it was for Snape’s face had gone even paler than it’s usual ghostly shade, and his eyes locked with Slughorn’s from afar.

Severus stood up as the potions master approached. “My mother’s dead, isn’t she?” he said simply as Slughorn arrived to the table.

Regulus’s eyes widened.

Professor Slughorn looked momentarily surprised by Severus’s knowledge, and quickly had to rearrange his features to one of apology, “Could we talk in private, my boy?” he asked gently.

Evan Rosier looked from Slughorn to Severus as Snape abandoned his meal, turning to walk ‘round the table. As he passed Regulus at the end, Regulus grabbed hold on his hand, “You alright mate?” he asked, worried.

Severus’s eyes flashed - first with some strong emotion that threatened to push tears to the aqueducts... and then went stone cold hard, “Why shouldn’t I be? I’m used to losing things.” And he wrenched his hand away, and followed Slughorn from the room.

Regulus looked at Barty. “Bloody hell,” he murmured. “I can’t imagine…”

The others along the table were already turning back to their meals, already brushing off the whole incident - it wasn’t their parents, after all. He wondered if he was the only person that gave a damn about what had just happened - if he was the only one there that felt a pit growing in the depths of their stomach? He wondered if it was his fault - for giving Sirius the note about Peter Pettigrew being at Lestrange Manor, wondered if there were any others who were dead or injured, if it’d been at the hands of the Dark Lord or another...

“I’d trade him my dad for his mum anyday,” muttered Barty. “Besides, she can’t have been a very good mother, can she? The way he dresses... She doesn’t ever buy him new robes or anything.”

But Regulus knew full well that Severus Snape adored his mother. He might not ever have said so in word - or maybe he had, Regulus didn’t know, but it had never been said to him, at least. But the way Severus would offer her his hand to help her up from seats told Regulus that he loved her dearly - for a boy who does not love his mother did not treat her as gently as Severus always treated Eileen Prince. Severus always put his hand on the small of her back to guide her along through doorways, and he would rest his palms over her shoulders when he stood behind her. He did anything she asked of him - he had even, as Regulus had found out through their occlumency lessons at night in the Slytherin common room, become a Death Eater in training - just because she’d asked him to.

“I don’t think she was so bad,” Regulus murmured. “Just… I think they’re poor.”

“Well poor people aren’t good parents,” said Barty, “Nobody’s got any business having kids if they can’t take care of ‘em properly.”

Regulus thought that was a pretty stupid thing to say, but he didn’t want to start an argument so he turned to focus on his dinner. Barty changed the topic, started talking about the next Quidditch match, about the House Cup and the fact that Slytherin was very much in the lead, thanks to Regulus and the excellent Seeker skills he’d been displaying all term long on the pitch… But Regulus was only just barely listening, his mind circling about on thoughts of Severus Snape and the way he’d looked as he’d left the great hall.

I’m used to losing things, he’d said…

Regulus thought that was quite possibly the saddest thing he’d heard in his entire life.




It had taken some time for everyone’s attention to be diverted enough for Remus to get Sirius out of the hospital wing. Sirius begged Remus several more times to help him leave, and even went so far as to threaten to just turn into Snuffles, secrets be damned, and curl up right there on the little cot if Remus didn’t get him out of there immediately. So Remus had told James and James had faked a sharp pain to get everyone’s attention on him for a few moments, and Remus had shouldered Sirius’s weight and hurried him from the room while they were turned away.

They made their way down the stairs and through the Trophy Room passageway to the little alcove. The moment they’d made it there, Sirius didn’t wait even a moment - he threw himself to the floor and changed instantly into a dog. Remus sighed and sat down on the couch, leaning into the cushions. Sirius followed, jumping up beside Rey and curling into him, pressing his nose into Remus’s stomach and burying his face as Remus gently stroked the soft fur behind his ears. The silence was absolute, not a sound beside their breathing broke it for hours as they sat… and eventually fell asleep.

When Remus woke up it was to the sound of Snuffles whimpering whining and he rubbed his eyes, sitting up to find Sirius was pacing the floor one end of the alcove to the other and back again, his tail between his legs as he walked. Remus leaned forward, scooting to the edge of the couch and held out his palms, “Padfoot.” The dog kept pacing. “C’mere, Pads.”

Sirius walked over slowly, his eyes sad and dark and Remus ran his hands over his doggy cheeks into the thick of his pelt, scrubbing deep against his skin with his fingers, “You can’t be blaming yourself for it, mate; you never would’ve done if you weren’t under the Imperius… Voldemort killed Eileen Prince, not you. Don’t you dare take this personal.”

The dog whimpered and pressed his face into Remus’s knee.

Remus bent forward and kissed the top of the dog’s head, his fingers scratching along the dog’s spine so that he kicked at the floor as a reflex and he said, thickly, “You’re a good person. Well, right now you’re a good dog, but in general, you’re a good person. You’re nothing at all like your parents, whatever anybody says. They dunno you, they dunno what you’re like the way that I do. I know an awful lot of you, too. Kissed an awful lot of you just last night at this time, remember?” Remus’s face turned a shade of red and he looked away.

Snuffles licked his face.

“Well thanks, but if I’m being honest I prefer your Sirius kisses over Snuffles kisses. I generally prefer the man over the dog anyway.”

There was a pause and Sirius turned back to himself... kneeling between Remus’s legs before the couch. He stared up at Remus, “Do you now? Why? Is it because I’m better looking as a person?”

Remus smirked. “I dunno about that.”

“I have better hair at any rate.”

Remus reached down and ran his hands through Sirius’s thick black hair, his fingers creeping over Sirius’s scalp. “It is very fine hair,” Remus agreed.

“Is it the tongue thing? Do you just not like Snuffles’s tongue?” Sirius asked.

“I don’t mind your tongue, really,” Remus said.

Sirius’s eyes went very playful and he leaned up and quickly licked Remus’s face.

“Oh Merlin!” Remus laughed, pushing him back, “You’re nutters.”

Sirius wiped the excess spittle that had ended up on his chin from lapping Remus away with his palm, a smile playing on his face. “You always make me feel better, Moony.”

“Well you shouldn’t be feeling bad to begin with,” Remus said. “You should always feel good.”

Sirius’s eyes sparkled. “You know how good you make me feel?”

“How good?” Remus asked, expecting some long winded description…

“Let me show you,” Sirius said thickly, his voice low in his throat.

Sirius stared into Remus’s eyes for a long moment, and Remus stared right back, and then Sirius leaned forward slowly, as though his body were made of molten lava or smoke and his hands ran up Remus’s body as he moved Remus’s sweater up, his mouth meeting the skin beneath as he pushed the wool right off over Remus’s head. Then suddenly Sirius was kissing his way down - across Remus’s collarbone and down his sternum to his abdomen as his hands slid up from Remus’s knees... A shiver went through Remus that had nothing at all to do with the cold…




Upstairs, Dumbledore was staring across the desk at Severus Snape. Severus stared stone-faced at a spinning silver instrument on the edge of Dumbledore’s desk. He balled his fists, squeezing his thumb in the center of them, his teeth grit, nose flared with the effort not to cry. He stared as the instrument spun… and spun… and spun… and spun… hypnotic.

Slughorn looked most sad, his eyes drooping with apology.

“Is there anyone I can summon for you?” Dumbledore asked, “A friend to walk you back to your dormitory perhaps? We shouldn’t be alone at times like these…”

I’m always alone, Severus thought. I’ll never bloody not be alone again.

But he looked up at Dumbledore, “I’m fine, sir.”

“Perhaps Lily Evans --?” Dumbledore prodded, “She’s your friend isn’t she?”

“No.” Severus replied. “She hasn’t been my friend since --” he stopped himself. He’d been about to say since I hexed Potter, but nobody in the Hogwarts staff knew that it had been him that’d done it. He’d never admitted to it - never would. “....for awhile now,” he amended.

Dumbledore steepled his fingers, “That is most unfortunate,” he murmured, “I am sorry to hear of it. What about Evan Rosier or another one of the boys in your year?”

Severus shook his head, “Really, sir, I’m fine.”

Dumbledore frowned.

Severus asked, “May I go please?” He didn’t think he could bear even a minute of being stared at the way Dumbledore was doing to him now - like he was something broken which needed fixing. He didn’t need fixing. He needed to be alone, in a dark room, where he could hide his face and hide his mind and hide his emotions and feel his heart bleed in dark rivers all over himself. He needed to get the bloody hell away from Dumbledore and Slughorn and everyone that looked at him like a little boy who’d just lost his mommy.

Even though that was precisely what he felt like.

He’d been lost once, when he was very young, in Diagon Alley - he could still remember the feeling of it, when he’d realized what happened, that his mother wasn’t there… They’d been walking along and he’d paused, seeing a window storefront with some interesting things inside and he’d paused to look and the next thing he’d known, Eileen had been gone and he’d been swept up in a crowd of bustling Christmas shoppers, his breath coming out in thick white puffs of steam, and he’d screamed “Mummy! Mummy!” as he’d run, his hands over his head, trying to get away before somebody could hurt him… wanting nothing more than to look into the eyes of his mother.

He felt exactly the same now as he had then.

“Yes, you may go,” Dumbledore said.

Severus didn’t wait. He got up and he hurried to the door as quick as he could without running… at least not until he got to the corridor… then he broke into a run and didn’t stop until he’d reached the Slytherin common room. He went to the dormitory. Evan was on his bed and he looked up from the textbook on his lap. “Get out,” Snape hissed, raising his wand.

Evan looked at him calmly. “Something wrong?” he said in a snarky voice.

“I SAID GET OUT!” Severus screamed.

Evan leaped to his feet and ran from the room, abandoning the book.

COLLOPORTUS!” Severus bellowed at the door, the spell bursting as the door locked loudly. He waved his wand about, “SECTEMSEMPRA!” and the lash of light that came from the wand broke mirrors and shattered picture frames, exploded pillows into clouds of feathers and ripped the curtains on the four posters and Severus utterly decimated the room. He threw his wand against the wall. He didn’t want his life anymore for none of it made sense, none of it mattered, none of it was any good -- it was all rubbish, every bit of it. He grabbed at the robes on his chest and ripped them off, the cloth seeming to choke him, to strangle him, the room exceedingly hot all of a sudden, and he flushed and fell to his knees on the carpet, his torso bare and he screamed - a horrible, carnal, pain-filled sound that rattled from his very guts.

“IT’S NOT FAIR… IT’S NOT FAIR…IT…. ISN’T…. RUDDY…. FAIR!!!!”

He banged his fist on the carpet, tears burning his eyes.

There was a knock on the door.

“I SAID TO GO THE BLOODY HELL AWAY, ROSIER, OR I’LL HEX YOU, YOU SHODDY ---”

“It’s me, Severus,” said Regulus through the door.

Severus sat on the floor, staring into the carpet grains.

“Let me in.”

“Go away,” he breathed.

“Please.”

“GO. AWAY.”

There was quiet a moment, then -- “alohamora” -- and the door opened anyway and Regulus stepped inside and pushed the door shut. He stood there, leaning against it, staring at Severus.

Severus didn’t move.

Regulus walked over and he sat squarely down on the floor beside Severus… and neither one said a thing, they just sat in silence, as Severus reminded himself how to breathe and Regulus practiced feeling another person’s pain.