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Severus felt the blood drain from his face. Lily Potter's son lay dead on the floor, his blood still glistening on the wooden floorboards, his lips quickly turning blue. Harry... was Dead. Severus's own life - wasted and useless. He… had failed. All his work, all his sacrifice, and he'd failed. Severus survived his grief, endured his torture, carried his guilt... and Lily's death had still been in vain. Here, in the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix. Severus was ready to end his life there and then, and he wondered only if he ought to take anyone else with him.
Then, the body disappeared, and promptly replaced with another body. Ginny Weasley's. Well. His mind cleared enough to see Mrs. Weasley, and he understood: A Boggart. Of course this filthy old house was lousy with them. Whether it was Severus himself or Molly who'd inspired the Boggart to assume the form of Harry's corpse, he was grateful that Molly was there, for she provided a plausible explanation for this Boggart's form. If anyone found out that Severus was scared of Harry dying, this could leak, and the consequences would be dire. The house at Grimauld Place was protected against external threats, yes, but he would have to press upon Dumbledore the importance of removing threats that could expose a double agent's true allegiance.
Perhaps it was Molly who'd inspired the Boggart's form? People cared for Harry well enough, for reasons that remained opaque to Severus, but Severus was grateful, to his surprise, that someone in the Order did not just like him, but felt a visceral fear of his demise, as though he was her own child.
Severus forced his heart to still, and his breath to stabilize. He was no stranger to fear, after all, and this was only a Boggart. Molly Weasley's children's and husband's corpses in various mutilated states blinked in and out of his vision as Molly tried and failed to make this, in any way, funny. Funny, this was not, and would not be. Not to Molly. Perhaps to Lucius Malfoy.
He felt a pang of sympathy for her: He remembered her twin brothers' deaths, as images of their mangled corpses had "accidentally" been leaked to the general public to terrorize the wizarding world into compliance. He'd still been a Death Eater, himself, then, but even he had felt a spasm of revulsion, he recalled: The Prewetts were fine wizards, and purebloods at that. Even so, their lives had been wasted and their dignity stripped. At the time, Severus had blamed Dumbledore: If he'd not recruited fine wizards to wage his futile war, if he'd only surrendered, and focused on being headmaster, then perhaps…
But that was years ago. At this moment, looking at the poor woman being driven half-mad by the Boggart, Severus knew he needed to get her out of the room, and quickly. If nothing else, the alternating corpses were bad for morale. Let the children who feared spiders or the werewolves who feared rocks in the sky take care of this infestation. Molly was one of the few people in the Order of the bloody Phoenix whom Severus felt shared the burden he'd assumed: To ensure that witless children would live to pester him another day, and she needed help.
The Auror Moody, too, apparently felt it was beneath his skill to face down the Boggart, and Severus suspected he knew why: Moody had lost multiple appendages to Dark Magic, and had suffocated in Barty Crouch Jr.'s briefcase and used for deceptive ends for the better part of a year. His Boggart was bound to be truly horrifying, and no laughing matter. So Moody stood motionless, an Auror's instincts kicking in, no doubt, because the scrape of his peg leg would alert enemies. Smart man. "You made me limp all the way up here for this, Black?!" Moody roared, and Severus saw an opening to approach Molly. He Occluded. What reason had he to fear, or worry, about the Weasley children dead, or Harry Potter, dead? Nothing. It was what he wanted. He would have brought these deaths about himself, if he'd not known his freedom and good standing depended on Dumbledore's word. He longed for Dumbledore and Harry to lose, for his revenge on his enemies to be complete.
"Up, Mrs. Weasley. That's enough. Let the others handle this."
Molly looked up at him, and seemed to return to reality. "Professor S.. Snape?"
"Your children and husband are alive. It's only a Boggart. Get up, I'll take you outside. You need fresh air." She looked around her, and everyone shrugged. Useless sacks of shit, all of them. None of them would last one minute doing his job.
Molly took his hand, and then let him support her as she stumbled. "The floor isn't slippery with blood, Mrs. Weasley," he said, "you needn't worry. As soon as we're out of the Boggart's range, you'll see."
Moody followed them, his leg scraping the floor, wood against wood. How had wizards stayed so far behind? Muggle prosthetics these days were much more dignified. War veterans, even victims of accidents in mines and plants, all had prosthetics that at least looked like legs, that could wear shoes. Oh well. If wizards wanted to stay in the Middle Ages, who was Severus to stop them? And if Moody distrusted Severus so much that he thought Severus would somehow harm Molly, an unimportant member of the Order, whilst surrounded by wizards who had exhibited their willingness to let him die for absolutely no reason at all... well... Severus couldn't fault Moody. Severus was not that much of a madman or fool, but Moody had no way of knowing that. No, he reminded himself. These are not the Death Eaters. Molly is safe because you don't want to kill her. In fact, Severus was very much a madman and a fool, just not in the direction Moody might have suspected.
He sat Molly down on a stone bench. Years of neglect had coated the bench with lichen, and Severus conjured a blanket for them both. "Thank you, Severus," she mumbled. "You really should stay and dine with us sometimes."
Moody sat against them, without a care for the slime that grew there. Figures. It still beat Crouch's briefcase. Severus shuddered, but did not let this worry him: It was chilly, and Moody made everyone wary, not just Death Eaters. "I second that," Moody said. "You must have... fascinating stories."
Severus didn't take the bait: Moody knew full well that Severus had already told Dumbledore everything he knew. This was not an interrogation. "I'm surprised that you joined us," he answered silkily. "As I recall, there's nothing you hate more than a Death Eater who walked free."
"Free!" Moody barked. "Boy, if you're a Death Eater, you're not free. No Death Eater would call it 'freedom,' running after children under Dumbledore's thumb. It's your friend Lucius Malfoy and his ilk, who roam the Ministry without a care in the world, all respectable-like, wearing the finest robes, that I hate."
Severus frowned. "Did you follow us, then, to protect Molly from me?"
"From you?" Moody growled. "If you're not a Death Eater, you got more guts in your left toenail than anyone here. And if you're truly a Death Eater, lad... I'm not so worried about you, to tell you the truth. Crouch, he told me. He made sure to tell me exactly what he'd used me to do, and he told me how you protested the suggestion that Dumbledore distrusts you. I don't think Molly here is in any trouble. You wouldn't risk it just to get at her."
"Then what, pray tell, are you doing here, Moody?" Severus asked, letting his irritation show. Death Eater or no, he liked being thought of as formidable. This is Moody, he reminded himself. Not a child who got lost on the way to the bathroom.
"If I spend another minute in that house I might turn Black into a washrag," Moody grumbled. "He'd be more useful like that, I reckon." Severus suppressed a smile. He needn't have found it so surprising - Sirius wasn't nearly as widely adored now as Severus remembered from school, not even among those who knew the truth about who'd betrayed the Potters. Still, it was nice to hear.
"He's very kind to let us use his family home as headquarters," Molly said, but she said it without spirit, as the burden of cleaning and cooking and playing host largely fell on her.
"He'd be even kinder to lift a finger to make it fit for company, or at least stop distracting the elf from doing that," Severus pitched it. "He might have become accustomed to squalor, but some of us have managed to stay out of Azkaban, as we've just discussed."
Molly raised a skeptical eyebrow at him. "That is very rude to say about our host," she said. "It's a horrible injustice, what happened to him."
Severus rolled his eyes, as he had become accustomed to not saying much if he could help it. It was not dangerous for the Death Eaters to see, through Molly's eyes, should they capture her, Severus ranting about Sirius, specifically... but cultivating a more open persona meant that a reluctance to speak at another time might be suspicious, invite questions, and force him to entangle himself deeper in lies. Fortunately, Moody articulated something very close to what Severus thought: "Bah! And he will spend 12 more years cryin' about it! What about my leg? My nose? My fuckin' eye? Is that just? What about your brothers, Molly? He was a criminal, and he went to Azkaban. The only injustice is that Pettigrew didn't!"
Music to Severus's ears, that was. And Molly's response pleased Severus even more: "Don't mistake me for a fan. I'm trying to remain civil, for the Order, but I remember well how my son woke up with a knife pointed at him, and how Ron and Harry and Hermione could have been bitten because of him, Death Eater or no. You saw the Boggart, just now... You know - you knew my brothers."
Moody was not so accustomed to sentimentality. He apparently preferred to return inside, where he could horrify someone else with gory details of how their loved ones perished. That left the two of them alone.
"I don't know why Dumbledore trusts you, but I trust you too, Severus," Molly said suddenly. "I tried to explain to Sirius, and Remus, and the others why I always invite you to stay... They're not parents. They don't understand, and I don't blame them."
The idea that Molly was willing to jeopardize her good standing with the others for his sake, when he'd repeatedly refused her invitations, struck him. All too often, others used him to elevate themselves. "Even if they somehow managed to reproduce, I doubt that Black or Lupin would ever socialize with me," he said, hoping he did not sound too bitter. "Not least, because that would require me to socialize with them."
Molly smiled. "Oh, I don't suppose I could expect them to take too kindly to my reminding them of how, well, reckless they'd been two years ago, and selfish, endangering everyone, with the dementors roaming the castle grounds for months, and... well, you were there, you know! Even if Sirius drew the knife at Pettigrew, he still could have stabbed Ron by accident. And Remus, he - he knew all year, and didn't say a word? I have four children at that school! Ginny already got nearly killed, and Ron was trapped with a werewolf with a broken leg! And Harry! I know Sirius is the boy's godfather, I know he loves Harry in his way, but I've been feeding Harry and caring for him, not Sirius! It's as though he only wants his best friend back, but James and Lily are dead, he needs to be an ad-"
Severus's expression must have shifted, because Molly halted abruptly. "I'm sorry, Severus. I'm sorry. It's the Boggart – I'm too emotional, still." She dabbed the corners of her eyes with a napkin. "I only meant to say… thank you."
Severus did not know what he would see if he faced Boggart, nor how he might make it funny. Lily's body? Sirius himself, perhaps, selling Severus out to the Death Eaters because it would alleviate his boredom? The werewolf, even so many years later? The Dark Lord? Severus's fears were many, and each could strike in several different ways, involving varying levels of agony, endangering varying numbers of others. Harry Potter dead, though, could certainly be one of them. And if anyone found that out, Severus would be killed, and if that were to happen, Severus was glad to know that Molly thought nothing of it that her Boggart counted Harry among her other children. A mother's love had already saved the boy once…
"No, thank you, Mrs. Weasley," he said, after too long a pause perhaps.
"What for? You're the one who puts his neck on the line for the Order. Never mind that my children complain about you so much that I know you must have something to do with the fact they're all alive. I know my boys can be a handful."
Severus knew he would obliviate her when this conversation was over. If Death Eaters captured her, and questioned her about him, she would reveal and contextualize actions he could never explain away. Why Harry Potter was still alive was one thing, Dumbledore was a sentimental man, after all, but why he still had living friends and allies to speak of was quite another. Molly knew about too many close calls.
"The twins are not without talent, but I would rather deal with the Death Eaters," he quipped, going a little further, perhaps, than he might have in the teachers' lounge. They all complained about Fred and George Weasley, but – how could he explain it? He felt that the joke would land better in this audience of one than among the other teachers: He did not like to call attention to his questionable past, but there was no avoiding it now, and he knew that if anyone was more exasperated with the twins than him, it was their mother. Molly laughed.
"Oh, I shouldn't!"
He smiled. Genuinely. "I didn't know how much it would mean to me to hear it, Mrs. Weasley. It's a thankless role. Both of them," he clarified, and he knew she would know what he meant. "It's… unlikely that I would ever take you up on your kind offers. It's inappropriate for teachers to socialize with students, and… I know the others don’t trust me. Least of all our gracious host. I know better than to stay when I'm not wanted – never mind that my job is to gather information about the Death Eaters, not the Order."
Molly moved further from him. "You're saying that because you're truly on the Order's side, you won't stay for tea? Please, Severus, this is ridiculous. If you don't want to, I can't make you. Forget I asked, then."
So. Being a mother did not inoculate Molly against the brashness and pride that came from being a Gryffindor. He did not know why he cared, but he wanted her to understand, since he had that singular opportunity to explain what seemed so obvious to him. "Molly, it's not that. I'm on your side, but my role depends on the Death Eaters thinking I'm on theirs. If I socialize with the Order, and don't unearth something they deem relevant, and they find out, I will become suspect, at best. And they will be warier of wagging their tongues in my presence. At the same time, refusing you again and again – to the Death Eaters, it would seem as though I'm foregoing convenient opportunities. Now I know why you insist, and I appreciate it, but please, stop. It's for everyone's good."
Molly's eyes grew wider as he spoke. "I had no idea. Or, I suppose I didn't think of all these things! I won't invite you again. I'm sorry. But if this is ever behind us, I do hope you'll consider it, then. And share your fascinating stories."
If this is ever behind us, I will take a very long vacation, and if I never see another Weasley child again it will be too late. "Thank you, Mrs. Weasley. I will. Do you suppose they got rid of the Boggart by now?"
"Must have. It's only me who gets this way because of them. Since my brothers," she explained. Severus needed no explanation. He nodded, and an understanding passed between them: they were the only sane ones among people who did not understand the danger, because nobody could understand the danger until after it befell them. Sometimes, not even then. As a mother, Molly shared his priorities: first, keep them alive. Whether they liked it or not was their problem. Here was someone, Severus thought, he would trust to teach Defense. Alas, the same applied to her.
"Molly, I can't let you leave with your memories of this conversation."
"But- I won't tell anyone!" she protested.
He sighed. He understood her, after all. Only Muggles were supposed to be subjected to memory charms. "Everyone thinks they won't break," he said. "But everyone breaks. Even me, Molly. I only knew how to break, because I had prepared. Not that it matters, either way, because the Dark Lord could question you even if you were gagged." He already had his wand out. Molly began to step away, and her eyes drifted to her own wand, but whether she liked it or not was, well, her problem. He knew what had to happen. Molly's parents, he was sure, would have been as grateful as Molly was for his treatment of her children. "I will remember, Molly, and it means more than you'll know. I'm sorry."
She knew she could not stop him. "How will you stop me from figuring it out on my own? I already did it once!" She asked, a last ditch effort to make him reconsider. Her children's impudence had come from somewhere.
"Oh, but you said too much, Molly. That is exactly the problem. You said too much, because you don't know what's crucial, and what's trivial. So. You will know that when I saw Harry Potter's body, I was indifferent. Perhaps I was pretending I was not pleased? You will know that I took a little too long to offer sympathy. That when Moody turned up, I made an excuse and left abruptly. Our real conversation will be mine alone."
Some time passed in silence. A dangerously long time, for the others to start asking questions. For someone to come and witness something they shouldn't see. But Severus had just seen Lily Potter's son, dead, and he could not worry about everything at once just then.
"I don't understand, but I understand that… I don't understand. If I trust you… I should let you get on with it. But if this is my last chance, then… thank you."
Severus knew that memory charms worked best on fresh memories, and as their conversation had just happened, he had no doubt that Molly would suffer no ill effects. Nothing that could not be explained away by the Boggart, anyway. He hoped she would remember to stop asking him to stay and eat, but now that he knew what she'd meant to convey by that, he also hoped she wouldn't. In the life he'd chosen, nothing could be simple. But Molly, he now knew, saw through the obfuscations when she counted how many plates to put on the table, for all her children, and for Lily Potter's son.
"Thank you, Molly," he said to himself and stalked away. He, at least, would never forget this evening.