As he did every morning before Lucius and Narcissa came down to breakfast, Abraxas sipped his coffee while reading the Daily Prophet. It was more out of habit than for news, actually, for he was well aware of how some reporters took outrageous liberties with their stories. Even so, it didn’t hurt to keep abreast of events, and with this in mind his eyes scanned down the Obituary page, searching for familiar names. With You-Know-Who and his Death Eaters wreaking havoc on a regular basis, one never knew.

Snape. He passed the name before it fully registered, then backtracked with a sharp intake of breath, and let it out in a hiss of relief. Thank God, it wasn’t Severus. Tobias Snape. Wasn’t that Eileen’s husband, Severus’ father? Abraxas felt sick in the pit of his stomach. As if the poor family didn’t suffer enough! Though to hear Lucius tell it, the man had been a veritable monster. Surely Lucius didn’t know the whole story, and Severus hadn’t complained as far as Abraxas knew. The truth was likely somewhere in the middle.

On another, stranger note, why was a Muggle included in a wizard newspaper? One possibility sprang to mind: the Prince family wanted it known that Eileen was no longer yoked to the Muggle, she was free. It certainly was the Prince style, or lack thereof, he thought dryly.

“Good morning, Father. Anything interesting?” asked Lucius in his typical casual greeting.

“Severus’ father died yesterday,” said Abraxas quietly.

Lucius and Narcissa halted where they stood, shocked and appalled, neither expecting anything out of the ordinary, let alone this! At first neither one spoke; visions of Muggle torture and murder flew to Lucius’ mind as he ransacked his memory for any reason the Master might wish to punish Severus. At last he choked out, “What happened?”

“According to this brief article, an accident at the mill where he worked. That’s all it says.”

“Oh, poor Severus!” Narcissa blurted out, dropping into a chair. “And his mother and his sister and brother!”

“The man was hardly a saint,” Lucius muttered.

“They still loved him!” Narcissa shot back.

“I know,” he conceded, wrapping his arms around her shoulders from behind. The closeness of the death made him want to shield her, protect her all the more. The very thought of his own father dying made him shudder.

Abraxas folded the newspaper and laid it aside. “Will you be visiting him?”

“Yes, of course,” answered Lucius. “I’ll send him a message and go over this afternoon.”

“When is the funeral?” asked Narcissa.

“In two days. Do you think he’d mind if I attend?”

Narcissa reached over to stroke Abraxas’ hand. “I think he’d be pleased.”

“He likes and respects you a lot, Father,” added Lucius. In his mind he added, probably more than his own dad. It seemed almost surreal to think of it, how people naturally took what they had for granted, yet it could so easily, so viciously be ripped away in a heartbeat. Tobias hadn’t been the ideal father, but Severus loved him…and according to his friend, Tobias loved Severus. That counted for something. “I think I’ll go owl him now. If you’ll excuse me.”

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

“Mrs. Snape, please accept my condolences. I understand this is a difficult time for you.” Lucius moved away from the fireplace, carefully dusting the ash off his clothing, head swiveling about the cramped room. Aside from the lack of a dead body sprawled against one of the walls, it looked amazingly like his recollection.

“That’s very kind of you, Mr. Malfoy,” she answered absently, not looking up from her stiff-backed perch on the sofa. She rocked slowly back and forth.

“Call me Lucius. Is Severus here? I owled him…” He felt unbelievably awkward here, especially in light of the circumstances.

“In the back garden.”

Lucius nodded a brief acknowledgement before turning his steps to the indicated area. In a corner of the tiny garden he found Severus, sitting on an overturned bucket, eyes closed, leaning against the house. He approached cautiously, not sure what to expect. Severus was always so in control of himself, so unemotional; because of his own ineptitude with emotional intimacy, Lucius sincerely hoped the boy hadn’t deteriorated into a wreck.

“What do you want?” said Severus.

It took Lucius a moment to notice Snape hadn’t even opened his eyes. “I want to say I’m sorry for your loss, Severus.”

The young man’s eyes snapped open and he sat up rigidly. “I thought you were Julius.” With a lurch he got to his feet, his piercing look making Lucius downright uncomfortable, and he shifted unconsciously.

“Severus, I don’t mean to encroach upon your mourning. I thought it appropriate to express my sympathy.”

Dispassionately Severus replied, “For what? He was only a Muggle. Don’t they all deserve to die?”

Like a glass of icy water in his face, the words struck Lucius hard. How often had he said those very words, or something quite similar, right in front of Severus? Muggles were inferior, that was a pure fact, but did he have to bring it up to the boy whose own father was one of them? Death Eater or not, a wave of hot shame overtook him. How incredibly tactless, how incredibly cruel he felt! “I’m sorry for saying that.”

“Why? It’s what you believe.” The hawk-like stare only intensified with the rage boiling behind it.

“No. I mean, you’re different; your family is different!”

There was an odd, choking sound comprising a hollow laugh. “Is that so? What makes me—or us—so special?” Severus sneered.

“You’re my friend, that’s what,” Lucius answered softly. “I apologize for my cutting, thoughtless remarks. I never intended to hurt you.”

“You only intended to denigrate the man who sired me, who spent his life working in a hellhole to support me and my family, who died in that hellhole trying to earn enough money to bury my mother when her time comes!” Snape spun away, his forearm rising to his eyes, his teeth clenched so tightly it made his jaw ache. With a single, rough swipe of his sleeve he fiercely wiped at the unbidden tears.

“Only because he was bad to you, Severus,” Lucius pleaded, edging forward until he was close enough to place a hand on Severus’ shoulder. “I didn’t—”

“DON’T touch me!” Severus snarled, jerking away as he whirled back around to face him. “You said what you came to say, now get out.”

“No.”

It was so unexpected Severus actually drew back in surprise. “This is my property, Lucius—”

“I know you’re angry, and for good reason. When my sister was murdered, I was furious, too. I wanted to kill all Muggles, and I made no bones of it. Yes, I’ve said callous things. I wasn’t as supportive as I should’ve been, but I didn’t cause this to happen. I’m not happy about it, I won’t be blamed for it, and I won’t let you destroy our friendship over it!” Lucius lifted his chin just a smidge, his expression defiant.

“You did your proper Malfoy duty by coming here; you don’t need to waste any more time on the halfbreed. I’m sure you’ll get over losing me quickly enough,” retorted Severus coldly. “No doubt you’ve got dozens of pureblood cronies to wile away your time with.”

“As a matter of fact, I don’t,” Lucius snapped back. “In case you hadn’t noticed—which I doubt, since I’ve never seen anyone so ridiculously anal in their observations—I don’t make friends easily. There are hundreds of people who want to be close for my wealth, but I don’t need their bullshit!”

“Anal?” echoed Severus, as if he hadn’t heard anything else.

“Meticulous, rigid, and compulsive,” Lucius growled.

“I know what it means,” sneered the younger man. “And I happen to think of myself as thorough, disciplined, and focused.”

“Well, I happen to think of myself as the King of England, but surprise, surprise—I’m not!” Lucius challenged, staring him down. The absurdity of it struck him and he began to chuckle, then to laugh.

“What’s so funny?”

“You—me—I don’t know.” The laughter subsided and suddenly he was solemn again. “Damn it, Severus, you’re my best friend, you know you are. I’m sorry I didn’t act more like it, and I really am sorry about your father. If you feel the need to lash out at me, go ahead.”

Severus let out an exasperated breath. He wasn’t angry at Lucius, per se, he was angry at the world, at the unfairness of it all. True, his pal’s comments about Muggles used to hurt, but he’d learned to tune them out. They’d come rushing back to haunt him upon his father’s death, which in itself had triggered an evasive, unclear fury directed at no one in particular and everyone in general. He wanted to hit someone, to alleviate the pain by inflicting it on others; all he needed was a reason, even a flimsy one, but a kind invitation didn’t quite qualify.

Scowling, he regarded Malfoy at length before finally retorting, “It’s hardly satisfying if I have your permission.”

Lucius rolled his eyes. “You’re a right pain in the arse, you know that?”

“It is one of my strengths,” Severus agreed, his scowl morphing into a smug smile. “It keeps me going.”

“How are your mother and the kids doing?”

Severus shrugged as he slid down the wall onto his bucket, cradling his chin in his hands, elbows propped on his knees. “Not well. Dad had finally stopped drinking right before this school year started. He was being pretty good to the twins; they were happy. Mum was a lot happier than I ever remember.”

“And you were a lot happier, too,” Lucius observed quietly.

In a slightly defensive, bitter tone Severus remarked, “It’s only natural. But we should’ve known it couldn’t last. Nothing good ever lasts.”

“Severus, if you—” Lucius stopped himself before making the blunder of offering his friend money. All he needed was to wound Severus’ pride in order to make the insult complete. “If you need anything, I’d like to help.”

“I appreciate that,” he responded noncommittally. “I should probably go in now. Thanks for coming.”

Lucius raised an eyebrow in consternation. He was being dismissed! If it weren’t for the trying circumstances, he’d be offended. “I’ll see you in a couple of days, then. I mean it, if you need anything, send an owl. I’ll take it as a personal affront if I find out you disregarded my overture.”

“Heaven forbid I should upset Lucius Malfoy,” drawled Severus, smirking.

“Jackass,” Lucius muttered under his breath. He held out his hand, which Severus took in a somber, unhurried handshake. It seemed to Lucius he ought to offer a more solid gesture along the lines of an embrace, yet…well, he wasn’t exactly the demonstrative type, except with Narcissa. It would be too…weird. “Take care.”

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

As per the norm, the family sat in the front pew of the church for the funeral service. The twins flanked their mother, who gripped their hands so tightly it was a tossup to determine whether their pain or their sorrow kept them weeping. Severus took his seat on the aisle next to Justina, one arm stretched out around the girl and extending to their mother. Behind them, Eileen’s parents had taken up position, while across the aisle Tobias’ parents seated themselves.

Severus glimpsed over at them several times during the service. It was apparent from physical characteristics that they were Tobias’ parents; Tobias had inherited his father’s black hair and sallow skin, his mother’s hooked nose and black eyes. Aside from resemblance, Severus wouldn’t have known them from Adam. He’d not seen them for ten years, prior to the twins’ birth, when Tobias had ordered them out of his house. In his estimation, he hadn’t missed anything. What he did recall of their infrequent visits was arguing, tension, and never-ending vitriol directed at Tobias, Eileen, and Severus, in that order. In a nutshell, they were wretched, horrid people, and it astonished him that Tobias had grown up as well as he had with their influence hanging over him like a putrid veil. In fact, he thought it a small wonder his father hadn’t become an ax murderer, starting with his parents!

He felt a hand on his shoulder and craned his neck around to see Glenna behind him, leaning up to whisper a greeting. A wave of emotion rushed over him, which he thrust down into the middle of his gut. He smiled sadly at her, took her hand, and pulled her up to sit with him, scooting over and forcing the others to do so as well.

When at last it was over, they all got up to go. The burial was to take place later; right now the reception was scheduled at the Prince house, where there was more room. Severus looked back through the sparsely populated church to see Lucius, Narcissa, and Abraxas off by themselves looking ill at ease among the Muggles. He motioned for them to come forward, leaving Glenna with his family as he went to meet them.

“Thank you for coming. It means a lot,” he said seriously.

Narcissa, noting with distaste the awful Muggle suit he wore, attempted a smile at the poor boy. Instead she started to cry and jumped forward to hug him. “Severus, I’m so sorry. I wish there was something I could do.”

Severus patted her back gently with a sidelong glance at Lucius, who didn’t appear the least bit upset about his wife clinging to his best friend. After the little incident in the ballroom, Severus had been very careful to keep his distance. “I’m glad you’re here. Won’t you all come to the gathering at my grandparents’ house?”

“We wouldn’t miss it,” said Lucius, dodging an evil glare from Abraxas, who took over where Narcissa had left off by giving the boy a cursory hug and quiet words of encouragement.

When Severus returned to his family, Abraxas muttered, “Nice going, son. Now I’m obligated to go to Prince Manor.”

“So?” said Lucius, immediately before remembering how his father had once been engaged to Eileen. And as the engagement had been broken by him to marry another woman, awkward scarcely described how he must feel. “Oh, sorry.”

The three scouted about the church in search of a secluded place from which to Disapparate home, from where they’d later go on to the Prince home. They slipped into the confessional one at a time and vanished. Severus noted their leaving, and then his eyes fell on a solitary figure at the very back of the church, hunkered down. A scarf covered her head and trailed down to hide her face, though bits of red hair poked out beneath the covering.

“Who’s that?” asked Glenna, all at once standing beside him, sliding her hand into his.

“I don’t know,” he said with an anxious feeling in the pit of his stomach. “I think it’s Lily.”

The mention of the name caused Glenna to grind her teeth in a fit of wrath. Couldn’t that two-faced slut leave them alone even now? What was she playing at? “Ignore her, Severus.”

“I can’t. She came to the funeral; I have to acknowledge her.” He let go of Glenna’s hand to walk the length of the building. Seeing him approach, the woman stood up, making no attempt to leave. The closer he came, the more sure he was. When she raised her eyes to his, he knew. “Lily. May I ask why you’re here?”

“Severus, he was your dad. How could I not come?”

For a long moment Snape said nothing. Why did she continue to do this to him, to throw herself in his path after making certain he understood they could never truly be friends or anything else? Did she enjoy tormenting him? Was she so wrapped up in her own self-importance that she didn’t even realize the torture she put him through? Every time he thought he’d built the wall around him thick enough, she managed to breach it with her intrusiveness. Every time he thought he’d relegated his childish, obsessive love for Lily to the trash bin where it belonged, she tried to revive it by showing up in his life again. It was as infuriating as it was heartbreaking, and he hated her for it.

“When we were friends, I would’ve expected your presence,” he murmured at the floor. “We’re no longer friends, by your choice. We’re no longer anything. Nevertheless, thank you for coming. It was a kind gesture.”

“Severus, if I can do anything…” she said, flipping her hair back and causing the scarf to fall onto the back of the pew.

“You’ve done enough.” Before she could respond and completely demolish his composure, he whirled and hurried up the aisle to his girlfriend, whose malevolent glare at Lily was almost palpable.

“Come on, Glenna, it’s time to go to my grandparents’ house.”

XXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOOXXXOOO

No one had killed anybody so far. Sadly, that was the best thing Severus could say about the gathering. His father’s Muggle friends and co-workers from the mill were the only ones oblivious to the chokingly-thick tension permeating the place, tension that increased tenfold when the Malfoys showed up half an hour into the wake, taking the attention off the Snape grandparents, who’d complained incessantly about everything under the sun from the minute they arrived.

Mr. Prince, a trim, gray-haired gentleman of sixty-five, took his daughter aside to mutter angrily, “Why did you tell those Muggles how to get here? You know I don’t want them in my house!”

“Father, it’s only for one day. You’ll never have to see them again,” Eileen said dully, her entire demeanor listless.

“And what is he doing here?” demanded the man, jutting his chin toward the new Malfoy arrivals.

Eileen blinked repeatedly, stunned. She’d seen the Malfoys briefly at the funeral, assuming them to be there for Severus. “I don’t know. I guess Severus invited them. Please don’t make a scene, Father.”

“Why shouldn’t he make a scene?” Mrs. Prince asked haughtily. “That man ran out on my only child and ruined her life!”

“Mother, he didn’t ruin my life! I love my family, I’m not sorry—”

“Oh, pshaw!” the woman answered. “You’d have been a Malfoy, rich, you’d have everything instead of living in that shack. He should be horsewhipped.”

“In case you forgot, he saved Severus’ life last summer, Mother! I know you love him.” That hushed the woman long enough for Eileen to warn, “I’m going to greet them. Don’t make a scene!” With a final fierce glower, she made her way over to Abraxas. “How are you, Abraxas?”

“Fine, Eileen. I should be the one inquiring the same of you.”

She responded with a tight, forced smile. “Things have been better.”

“If it’s not too prying, may I ask if you had any form of insurance on your husband?” Ever practical, Abraxas dove right into the thick of it. “I understand Muggles use a system of this sort in case of accidents.”

Eileen shook her head. “We couldn’t afford it. But the accident was caused by malfunctioning equipment at his job, and the company offered to pay a settlement, only now they’re saying they won’t.” Helpless tears shot to her eyes and flooded down her cheeks, making her feel like an utter baby. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He came in close to put an arm around her, letting her cry on his chest. From over by the buffet table, he saw Lucius and Narcissa watching, prompting him to avert his eyes. “I know what it’s like to lose a spouse, Eileen. It’s one of the hardest things in the world to endure.”

“I shouldn’t be bothering you, Abraxas.”

“It’s no bother.” He waited a few seconds, debating whether to say what he’d intended to say. “Don’t be offended, Eileen, but I know money has been tight for you, and that your parents aren’t wealthy. I’d like to offer you a sum to help you get by—for the children’s sakes.” Sensing her gearing up for a refusal, he pressed his fingers to her lips. “Don’t say no, not yet. At least think about it.”

“I’ll think about it,” she said, wiping her eyes with a handkerchief he provided her, then blowing her nose. “You must care a lot for Severus, Abraxas. First you saved his life, now you want to help us.”

“I do care,” he answered curtly, disliking the exposure of his sentiments. “He’s a very bright and talented wizard.”

“Yes, he is,” she agreed with a genuine, proud smile.

A shrill voice carried across the room, cutting into their conversation. “If my son’d had a decent job, this never would’ve happened. I told him long ago what to do, but he never listened. Of course, he was always a clumsy—”

“Shut up!” thundered Severus, stalking straight for Mrs. Snape. All conversation stopped, every eye turned his way. “I’m sick and tired of hearing how useless my father was! He was your son, but you never did anything except find fault with him! It’s no wonder he ordered you to leave our family alone! You never let up on him when he was alive, and you can’t even let him rest in peace!”

Mr. Snape came up beside his wife. “Obviously he didn’t raise his whelp proper, or you’d mind your mouth.”

“Really, Severus, you ungrateful brat,” his grandmother seethed. “Your mother has no class, either, lettin’ you behave like this.”

His hands balling into fists, his black eyes boring into the two, Severus said in an odd, detached clip, “You know what? You’re an insane bitch and your husband is a brutal git. You made my father’s life miserable, and you’re not going to do the same to my family. You’re poison, and we don’t want you around. If you ever come near my mother or sister or brother, I’ll kill you. Both of you leave.”

They stared at him, horror-struck, then turned and hightailed it out. Once, when he’d been drunk, Tobias had mentioned the boy was one of them, and though they didn’t know quite what it meant, they were assured it had to be very bad. Here was the proof—he was issuing death threats. The Lord only knew how many he may have murdered to date. They were well rid of the lot of them.

Severus scanned the thin crowd gaping at him, tossed his hair back from his face, and said calmly, “Is there some problem?”

The guests shrugged and shook their heads, though every conversation invariably buzzed with the recent episode. Worming their way through a clique of people, Justina and Julius broke through to run to Severus, and clasped him tightly around the waist. The Snape grandparents frightened them, and their hero brother had chased them away. Severus dropped his arms protectively around them.

Julius looked up at his brother to ask, “Would you really kill them, Severus?”

Without hesitation, he thought. Anyone who threatened his family would suffer his wrath, but the kids didn’t need to know that. Not yet, anyway. When they got older they’d understand. “It’s just something grown-ups say when they love their families, Julius. They know what I meant.”

“Indeed they do,” drawled Lucius, sauntering up beside him, smirking in the well-perfected Malfoy way. “We all do.” The look he sent Severus’ way held more than understanding, it held approval, and for some indefinable reason that approval was more important to Severus than he cared to admit.