Severus didn’t miss the near slip-up, but far from surprised he was bracing for it. He was ready for this to be the most unpleasant encounter Potter could make, and from experience that was a rather tall order but entirely achievable for the twat he knew — what was unexpected instead was the correction. Severus, graciously, pretended not to notice. ‘ Potter, ’ he said in a clipped tone. He nodded in return. 

He stepped inside, paused in the entrance hall and turned to look at his enemy patient. With a slanted brow, Severus said, ‘ Surprised? War makes for strange bedfellows, Potter. A halfblood with a muggle name would have more to lose and to gain in this war than a pureblood boy with a trust fund. And what I want hardly overlaps with what I need to do. ’ He jerked his chin towards the injured wrist. ‘ You need that hand to fight, and we need you on the field. Ergo, here I am. ’ He lifted a shoulder, the bag shifting with the movement, vials jostling beneath the fabric. He didn’t respond to whether or not he can cure him. That remained to be seen.

Severus looked at the wizard for a moment. Head tilted slightly to the side. ‘ And I never liked unequal fights, if you recall. ’ That was you, Potter. He nodded down the hall, towards what he believed was the living room. ‘ Lead the way. ’

.

The second Severus opened his mouth, James felt like breaking. That had happened a lot since he’d gotten out of the dungeons and Lily had left him. Little things would make him want to throw something or sob or a mixture of both - like seeing the mug she used to use in his cupboards or watching Garnet snub him as though the cat never even realized he’d been gone. Or, like the other day, when Remus had been visiting him at Mungo’s and said Lily’s name and James had told him to watch his damn mouth as though he’d been called something crude.

But all Severus needed to do was talk in that slow, annoying drawl of his and remind James of all the reasons Lily had broken up with him without even doing it on purpose. Or, knowing Snape, maybe it was on purpose and the wix was just so fucking smart that it hardly sounded that way. “Convenient timing to realize that about yourself,” James said with a new dullness to his voice that hadn’t been there before. His head suddenly felt stuffy like he was holding back tears, but he just ground down his back teeth until it went away. Maybe later he’d curl up with Sirius and let himself cry again, but there was no fucking way Severus Snape would see how much this - Lily, Severus, their friendship, everything - was affecting him.

“Voldemort promotes equality in your little circle of friends?” James quipped back with his eyebrows raised, a mean smirk on his face, using the name intentionally to try and get a rise. He turned and led the way to his living room where a plush maroon couch and two armchairs sat around a coffee table. There was a multi-patterned blanket on the back of one of the chairs. It felt warm in here, despite James’ lack of it.

Severus tipped his chin up as he followed Potter to the living room. Shoulders squared and back straight. ‘ Equality is unattainable in the wizarding world. The Dark Lord provides opportunity, which is more than what the Order could say for itself. ’ Severus was a practical man and he took the practical path — in most things. It all fell through in the end for him but being a Death Eater was, and still is, the practical choice.

LOCATION: Prewett House DATE: June 27th, 1984 @wrongdeor

Elliot opened the door to the kitchen, grimaced, and closed it. He had been trying to find the infirmary (not because he was hurt, but simply as an exercise in navigation), but despite his fervent attempt to memorize the layout of the old Prewett House when Hestia had taken him on the tour yesterday, he couldn’t seem to get it straight in his head now. It was discouraging—or no, he told himself, it wasn’t discouraging, because he refused to let himself be discouraged. It was just…not encouraging. That was all. There was quite a wide gap between encouraged and discouraged, and he was simply neither.

He was still getting his feet under himself, he told himself, and that was fine. That was perfectly expected, perfectly natural. There was a lot to learn, after all, about the Order of the Phoenix. About being part of the Order of the Phoenix. He had only been an official member for two days—a little less than one-and-a-half, really, if you went by the slanting old grandfather clock slumped in the corner—so of course he was still getting his feet under himself. That was nothing to be ashamed of. That was perfectly natural.

None of that stopped him from feeling like he’d fallen right off those feet and into some sort of bizarre dreamscape when he opened the next door down the hallway and saw Severus Snape sitting inside. Elliot’s jaw dropped and absolutely no sound came out of his mouth as he stared—no, gaped—at the other wix in abject stupefaction. He stood in the open doorway for several seconds without moving, without even remembering to breathe, his brain scrabbling desperately as it tried to process what he was seeing.

He woke up this morning with instructions to meet the Dark Lord in the evening. Severus couldn’t know if it was for their private lessons, a mission, or something else entirely. He was simply grateful for the early notice. It gave him time to rearrange his schedule and mentally prepare himself. And so here he was, late in the morning stacking vials into the infirmary cupboards when the doors swung open. He looked up from the inventory list in his hand to see a new face standing in the doorway, mouth agape, features twisted into a look of profound shock and paralysis. Severus reached into his pocket for his wand but didn’t take it out. He gave the intruder a moment to gather his wits about him, but the moment dragged on, and it was becoming really quite uncomfortable being on the receiving end of such a face.

Severus held the other’s gaze as he spoke his name, looking for snippets of memory, a passing thought that would reveal them to be a pretender. There was no distance between the mind he looked into and the name Regulus Black. This was, at worst, someone who fully believed they were the dead Heir of the House of Black. At best —

Doubt, despite itself, dissipated rapidly once Regulus opened his big bloody mouth, and the most ridiculous taunts left his lips. Hm, yes. There he was, the impossible brat. Severus almost grinned, suddenly, but schooled his features back down to impassivity. His shoulders relaxed just a little. 

He raised an eyebrow. ‘ I got sick of being told what to do, ’ Severus said, ‘ and treachery sounded grand. A better question would be why not, really. ’ He waved a hand flippantly. ‘ It goes better with my nature, yes? Halfbloods and their shaky convictions, and all. I suppose your darling Bella was right about me all along. ’

He walked up to the littlest Black, arms crossed, a slight cant to his head. He intended to look menacing, but his guard was down, and his tone was more inquisitive than accusatory: ‘ You, on the other hand, heir to name and to fortune — how does this go with yours? ’ What are you doing here, Regulus?

*

“Oi,” Regulus asked, leaning forward on that couch he’d rather burn than sit on again, “are you in my head?” He looked at the other, scanning their shoulders, their mouth, their general now-lost tension. “You are, aren’t you? You seem very pleased with yourself there, Severus,” Regulus added with a scowl that was patently false in sincerity and transparent to the thing he might label joy beneath it. “Figures you’d go poking.”

Regulus’ head fell back onto the couch, eyes sliding shut against his will yet following it at the same time. The duality of conscious and unconscious desires playing out in that one simple movement. He’d been worried, before, but whatever Severus was here to do, he’d do it without alerting the entire damn estate to it. That was safety enough for Regulus to close his eyes. Not despite Severus, but because of Severus.

“You always were a contrary little bugger,” Regulus agreed. “It was never enough to make one spell, no you had to make, what? Eleven, twelve of the things?” Regulus sighed, rocking his head back and forth on the couch in the best approximation he could of a shake. “Bella did turn out to not be right about much,” Regulus said quietly, “and I don’t think she was right about that.” That was entirely too much honesty for this conversation. Regulus was going to blame the sleep-deprivation if it was brought up.

“Treachery is quite the lark though, I must admit that. Always something done in a flurry of springtime fancy like a Hufflepuff after a pastry. Knees knocking together with the sugar high and excitement of it all.” Regulus shook his head again, choosing honesty, blunt and brittle a tool though it was. “I went researching. Volunteered a friend for something I never should have. Nearly lost him and found more than I should have in those books.”

Severus conjured a desk chair (wheels, armrests, and all) that they dragged closer to the young man before they sat down, legs crossed at the knee, and leaned back. The air shifted palpably in the room, Severus was no longer interrogating a potential threat, they were catching up with an old acquaintance. A corner of their lips lifted at being called contrary, only a little too pleased with themself. ‘ Just twelve, ’ they said, ‘ for now. ’ If Severus dared to dream of what they would do after the war, it was this: make new spells. And potions, and wards, and artifacts. One day they might outweigh the violent magic they’ve written into the world.

If Severus was taken aback by Black’s following confession — and a confession is what it was, quiet and honest, however else Black chose to frame it later — they didn’t show it. Black had stumbled through epiphanies of his own since Severus had last seen him, not unlike the ones Severus had worked through themself to get here. ‘ What a surprise, ’ said Severus, ‘ look who had a change of heart, now. It’s only been 5 years, Black, what happened to you? ’

Severus listened intently as Black spoke. They watched him without blinking as the words sank in. They remained carefully impassive, face empty of all emotion.

I found something out. Something that could be fatal to someone I swore to serve.

For one ferocious moment Severus wanted to pin Black down and empty his mind of all knowledge and memory, comb through his thoughts with tedious care, and pluck it’s secrets out one by one until they found what they were looking for. The moment passed. Reckless, Severus thought. Unlike most of the people they dealt with, Black knew of their Legilimency. A delicate hand was needed.

The trip through the private woods was long and tedious, and completely avoidable had Severus been able to replenish his supply of portkeys in time. He was not very athletic — or at all, really — and felt every unnecessary step they took down the woods with deep frustration and exhaustion. Neither of which he showed to his partner, whom he was sure kept one eye on the enemy and one on Severus himself. This mission was a test, and everything he did was, as always, under scrutiny.

A twig snapped. Severus swiveled around on high alert towards the source of the noise, wand at the ready — the weight of hands on his back and shoulder, a twist of fabric — The ground was swept from beneath his feet. Severus blinked. He only had time to be confused before he slammed against the ground a few yards away with a heavy THUD.

He got back up on his feet cursing and huffing and considerably more annoyed than he was only a moment ago. ‘ Fuck off! You bloody brick! ’ He shouted back at the buffoon that threw him across the fucking field, but he was half turned towards the broken arch, wand in motion, spells at the ready. Wards meant to keep people in were only a hair’s breadth away from keeping people out. Severus reached into the edge, plucked its strings, and cast a spell, the incantation rolling off his tongue like water. A long string of latin whispered in gentle, coaxing tones, and the edge of the safety clearing shimmered and expanded it’s scope until it covered both himself and the Auror a few yards behind. It would keep their enemies outside of the dome. But more importantly, Severus and Moody can apparate out.

‘ NOW, ’ shouted Severus over his shoulder. ‘ We have thirteen seconds! ’ Moody had to apparate first, if Severus left the spell would break and the safety border would snap right back into shape.

@wrongdeor​

Alastor probably should have been concerned about how easily Severus was thrown halfway across the field. At the back of his mind, perhaps he was. The forefront, however, was focused on the shadowed figures of who he figured were Goyle and a handful of his cronies coming to see them off. Such sweethearts, they were. 

He waited a few beats, listening for Severus, before laughing to himself. A bloody brick, indeed. He had been a beater, after all. It was rather similar, wasn’t it?, protecting your partner from an attack just as you would a teammate? Alastor took a strategic step backward, dodging another hex before tossing off a rather peevish Confrigo, hoping that it stuck and tossed bits of Goyle to Morgana’s tits and back. He continued to toss off attack after attack, keeping the Death Eaters at bay. 

Behind him, he could hear Severus muttering, working to undo the wards long enough to, hopefully, get them out sooner rather than later. He was bloody good at it, Alastor knew, which was why Snape had been brought with him. That, and it was a test, but the former was far more important now.

Snape’s shouted command, the detail of thirteen seconds, and Moody’s distinct knowledge that he was the one who needed to apparate first caused him to back almost completely toward his field partner. It also caused, for a split second, the shields to slip. In that moment, a curse ricocheted through, slamming half into Alastor’s chest and the forearms he’d raised in preparation. 

The translucent dome shivered against the night sky. Severus clapped a hand over Moody’s shoulder, and apparated to the first place he could think of.

The damp air of the forest slid away, a shift of colors and sound. In a blink, they were in the still and dry air of Spinner’s End, where the wards were thick and hostile and the smell of dry wood and hellebore filled their lungs. The fireplace crackled on beneath the sudden silence, unstartled.

Of course, Severus thought with deep bitterness. Of all the places that could spring to mind in a moment of danger it was this. Home.

Evan could handle chaos. It was part of his day job so handling injuries after the mission shouldn’t have felt nearly as exhausting as it did. Not even two full teams back and he was already dealing with one person in critical condition and the rest of the team having come back concussed or worst. He would owe a thank you to Emmeline later since she was doing a phenomenal job at going back and forth between people. She had better bedside manner than his own but he had the excuse of worrying about multiple people if it came to someone complaining to Hestia or Alastor. At the end of the day, he cared about no one dying more than being viewed as the friendly healer putting up with being sworn at, screamed at, or both.

He had been about to take a seat and catch his breath for a moment when Severus came in with someone, merely earning an arched brow and a groan before he shifted his attention from Lily to the two.

Severus weaved his way through the chaos of the infirmary after a mission and found the empty cot, where he placed Selwyn carefully and cast a spell to check her vitals.

WHEN. june 25, super fucking early WHERE. prewett estate infirmary WHO. @wrongdeor

When Alastor and Gideon apparated back to headquarters, Moody was limping. He took one step, and then a second, and the pain that burned in his leg accompanied the throbbing in his head and the burning at his side quite nicely. They worked, one right along with the other, to make his body scream at him. He'd known he'd been hit, too, and he figured Gideon had seen at least the thing that'd hit him in the head. At the other man's urging he dragged his sorry carcass to the infirmary.

What he found was utter chaos, and Alastor nearly turned right back around and walked out again. He could fix his own bloody knee and his own bloody aches and pains. Evan was busy, Emmeline was too. Daisy was running about looking worried. There were too many people, and Moody drew himself inward, not wanting to be touched for fear it would spark more pain. If he did, he knew that he'd snap at someone about it. He never had been a good patient.

Moody had slunk half out of the room already before he was caught out, though, and he knew without looking who it was that'd done it. He felt, for what it was worth, like a young lad caught for trying to sneak out past curfew and wasn't that just off?

wrongdeor​:

Let’s switch, said Rosier, and handed him a diagnostics paper and rattled off a list of instructions. Severus looked at the bed and rocked back on his heels, suddenly, like taking a physical blow. He’d fallen from a tree once, when he was young, twenty feet down and it knocked all the air from his lungs. The memory resurfaced unprompted, an echo of this moment, and he tried to take a deep breath. Then he took one step, two steps, and stood by Lily’s bedside.

His hand reached out carefully to touch her wrist, felt the faint pulse in her veins, and watched the air expand and expel from her lungs. For what felt like eternity, Severus stood like this, still as a statue. Waiting for signs she was getting worse. Bruised lungs. Internal bleeding. Broken collarbone. The list of diagnostics went on an endless loop in his mind —

Potter burst into the infirmary, a whirlwind of self important rage and childish animosity. Severus was yanked away by his bloody collar, and it was a testament to his current state of mind that it took him a moment to return to the present. To feel the anger light a fire in his gut. To think, who the fuck do you think you are?! Before he grabbed the front of Potter’s robes and slammed him against the wall of the infirmary, hard enough to rattle the shelves. ‘ Be quiet, ’ Severus said, a soft, quiet tone that belied the violence simmering underneath. ‘ Or get out. This is an infirmary, you fucking delinquent. Who do you think you are? ’

@healerrosier 

____________

Things were going fine with the addition of Theo added into the mix of patients he had to deal with. Evan could manage his emotions well enough in front of Severus and unconscious Lily and Theo. That much was a given even though he was truly ready to find some place to go scream as a way of letting go of some of his pent up anxious energy and make it clear that his trying to think everything was fine was totally ineffective.

He hesitated when it came to casting the diagnostic spell, not used to seeing Theo look so fragile. One deep breath in an attempt at keeping the nervousness pooling in his stomach at bay then he cast it. A rather alarmed “What the fuck? That can’t be right,” escaped from his lips mere seconds before James arrived.

Evan released an exasperated sigh and raised an eyebrow at the two. Unexpectedly and unsurprisingly, a scuffle — he would label it as such for now — ensued and he was left throwing a look of disappointment at the two. Disappointed yet not bothered enough to reach for his wand and properly threaten to separate them. He wouldn’t admit it but the change of pace and something else to focus on was a welcome distraction. “Be careful of the shelves,” Evan winced. “Severus said it better than I would have, James. My usual reminder that I will not be healing either of you if it comes down to injuring yourselves over…” He trailed off a moment and made a face. “Whatever this is. This is hardly the behavior Theo or Lily would approve of given the circumstances.” @perniciouspotter

As quickly as James had gotten the upperhand, he lost it. Suddenly, Severus was on him, pulling him by the scruff of his shirt to be slammed against the wall. James let out a short, pained breath as the weight of it hit him, his wrist suddenly throbbing even though it hadn’t bothered him all day. He took Snape’s insult as a hypothetical question and shoved at their hand until he was pushing it aside.

“Get the fuck off me,” he said, not quiet as requested and quite hypocritically. James turned his head to look at Evan, narrowing his eyes. Of course they’d bloody well stick together. James almost retorted who gives a fuck about what Theo thinks? back to him, but that was a surefire way to get him kicked out, so he just righted himself and glared at both wix before stepping around Severus, shoving their shoulder on the way despite himself.

Hey, at least he was being quiet now? He stopped short a moment later as his eyes caught with Lily’s body in the infirmary cot. She looked bruised and body and fragile in a way he’d never seen before. His hands started shaking and he could feel that lump in his throat again. He swallowed, pushed it back - he would not fucking cry here, not with Snape standing a foot away - and let that now-familiar rage take over.

He rounded on Evan. “What the fuck are you just standing there for? Aren’t you going to help her?” He looked back at Severus. “And you - if you’re so fucking perfect, so- so capable that you can murder Muggleborns and then be fucking welcomed into the Order after, why don’t you do something!” She was going to die, she was going to die, oh fuck was she going to die?

Then Potter rounded on him. Looking for someone to blame, to fight, to lash out on. Severus stepped into the role like it was made for him.

He turned to Evan and gave him a commiserating look, as if to say, ‘Can you believe this guy?’ And turned back to Potter like a shark that scented blood. ‘ Ah, that still bothers you, doesn’t it? That I was welcomed into the fold and yet you still struggle to find your place again months after your miraculous return to your people! But you can’t possibly be welcomed when all you’ve done is pick fights and throw temper tantrums like a child, yes?’ Head cocked to the side, Severus approached his opponent in slow and measured steps, the corners of his lips lifted slightly in a sharp smirk. Repressed rage beat against his chest in a steady thrum. ‘ You’ve been nothing but a liability. You’ve done nothing but get in everyone’s way. You’re difficult, and you make things difficult. Everyone here is busy or injured, but we’ve all got to stop whatever we’re doing because James Bloody Potter has to process his feelings first! ’

James moved quickly from his argument - possible argument? - with Jones down the corridor to the infirmary. Lily, fuck, Lily. She could be dead. She could be dying. He couldn’t fucking believe that he’d let her end them when he knew it might end up like this between them and they’d be left with nothing but tainted memories. He could’ve had four more months with her. Damn it, Lily.

He was angry and tired and so, so fucking terrified. But he was also keeping his cool, Hestia’s words about how blowing up wouldn’t help him - how Evan wouldn’t let him stay - ringing through his ears. And, by the time he made it to the infirmary, he was almost calm. Almost ready to sit by her bedside and stay out of Rosier’s way.

Until - 

His hand reached out carefully to touch her wrist, felt the faint pulse in her veins, and watched the air expand and expel from her lungs. For what felt like eternity, Severus stood like this, still as a statue. Waiting for signs she was getting worse. Bruised lungs. Internal bleeding. Broken collarbone. The list of diagnostics went on an endless loop in his mind —

Potter burst into the infirmary, a whirlwind of self important rage and childish animosity. Severus was yanked away by his bloody collar, and it was a testament to his current state of mind that it took him a moment to return to the present. To feel the anger light a fire in his gut. To think, who the fuck do you think you are?! Before he grabbed the front of Potter’s robes and slammed him against the wall of the infirmary, hard enough to rattle the shelves. ‘ Be quiet, ’ Severus said, a soft, quiet tone that belied the violence simmering underneath. ‘ Or get out. This is an infirmary, you fucking delinquent. Who do you think you are? ’