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The Last Horcrux

Summary:

Three years after Voldemort’s defeat Severus Snape and Remus Lupin are sharing a life together at Spinner’s End with their large and rather complicated family. Harry and Ginny are about to get married, Draco and Dudley are working out the kinks. All is peaceful in their world, but unbeknownst to them, the Death Eaters are gathering again, looking for a way to claw their way back into power, hoping against hope to bring back the Dark Lord.

And Remus is pregnant, again…...

Notes:

Welcome to my cannon divergent sequel to the Werewolf's Child! There are several original characters from that work that are prominent in this story. Amanda and Gavin are siblings who were rescued from the Death Eaters by Severus and are now living with Remus and Sev as their wards. Their father, Tim, is still alive but unable to take care of them, their mother was killed by Voldemort. Oakley is Remus and Sev's three year old son. He was conceived as part of a magical experiment conducted on Remus when he was imprisoned in a werewolf camp, and adopted by Severus as his own. Oakley is now a lively and curious three year old, Gavin is a rising young Quidditch star and Amanda is having her ups and downs at Hogwarts.

I think that's what you need to get you started. Hope you enjoy it! And please, please comment! I live for feedback! PB

Chapter 1: Halloween

Chapter Text

It was Halloween.

Severus Snape was hurrying up Spinner’s End, in the fading afternoon light. He held a carrier bag from the curry shop in each hand. His black trench coat, which he wore for his forays into the Muggle world, whipped around his legs in the chilly wind. The street of his childhood pulsed with excitement. The neighborhood of dreary brick row houses where he had grown up had been discovered in recent years by an assortment of young families. They were attracted to its Victorian charm, its proximity to London and its affordability. Every stoop sported a glowing jack o’lantern, or a string of pumpkin lights, or a plastic ghost blowing eerily in the wind.

Sev’s house was no exception. Remus and the children had gone a little wild with the decorations. Three carved jack o lanterns marched up the front stairs glowing with candles lit from within. There was a string of pumpkin lights shining in the parlor window. Construction paper cutouts of bats and black cats were taped to the front door. There was a cheap fake spider web from the pound store draped on the front stoop railings. A mummy made of old bog roll tubes wrapped in white cloth and dabbed with fake blood rattled as he opened the door.

He was greeted in the foyer by a tiny batman complete with mask and cape, who hurtled into his stomach as if shot from a cannon.

“Papa! Papa!” Oakley cried, holding up his arms, wanting to be picked up. It was a gesture that Sev had never yet found it within himself to refuse. He set down his carrier bags, and picked up the lithe wriggling three year old body, buried his nose in Oakley’s soft curls, breathed in his clean little boy smell. He felt himself relax. He was home.

A moment later a white figure came flying down the stairs with a loud “Boo!” It was Gavin in his ghost costume “Did I scare you Mr. Sev? “ he wanted to know. “Did I?”

“You are quite frightening, Gavin, in many ways,” said Sev dryly. “Pick up those bags, would you, and bring them into the kitchen.”

“What’s in them?” asked Gavin.

“Dinner,” Sev replied. “Where’s Mr. Moony?”

In the kitchen, Remus was setting the table and filling water glasses. Sev set Oakley down. He took Remus in his arms and kissed him. He let his fingers brush the bump pushing against Remus’ loose robes. Remus smiled and kissed him back.

“Thanks for getting dinner,” he said, taking the carrier bags from Gavin and unpacking the white cardboard containers of food. It smelled delicious. “It's been a day. It's nice not to have to cook. Wash your hands, you two,” he called out to Gavin and Oakley, “and come eat something before you start stuffing yourselves with candy!” He turned to Sev. “Will you take them round for trick or treating?” he asked. “I’m knackered.”

Sev studied Remus’ pale face. “Everything all right?” he asked with concern.

Remus smiled at him. “Worry wort!” he said. “I’m fine. Just tired. There were a lot of orders to fill in the greenhouse, and the boys have been a little hyper about Halloween. It would be nice to put my feet up for an hour. That's all.”

Sev didn’t quite believe him.

“Really,” said Remus. “I’m fine. And the boys will love it if you take them round. You can wear your cloak. You’ll look fantastic. Sit down and eat. How was your day?”

They sat around the kitchen table and ate the delicious curry, as the dusk outside the windows deepened. Then there was a flurry of activity. Sev insisted that the boys wear jumpers under their costumes and they needed to find bags for trick or treating. Sev left Remus fussing with masks and zips and went upstairs to fetch his cloak from the wardrobe. He looked at his face in the mirror. He was pale, as always, his long hair pulled back from his forehead, his dark eyes glittering. And the nose - always the nose, the feature he couldn't get away from, defining his face. He didn’t think he looked too bad though, all things considered. His nose, he felt, fit better on his older face than it had when he was younger.

Remus liked it. Remus liked him. He liked the way he looked. He told him so often. Thinking about this caused a warm glow in Sev’s chest, started a happy tingle washing over his skin.

Sev straightened his collar. He put on his cloak and did up the silver dragon hasp at the neck with a snap. He smoothed his hair. He was ready for Halloween.

Remus had the boys on the front stoop, fully costumed, seated beside the lit pumpkins. He was trying to get them to sit still while he took photos. Then he made Sev pose with them in front of the house. By the time he got the picture he wanted all three of them were squirming with impatience. At last, Remus put the camera away and let them loose into the windy streets.

The boys flew from house to house and soon their bags were bulging. How well Sev remembered the excitement and thrill of trick or treating as a child, the dark streets calling, filled with mystery and adventure. He remembered running through these same streets with Lily and Petunia at the age of nine or ten. Lily’s mum wouldn’t let her go out without her older sister. Lily always dressed as a witch, her red hair swinging under her dark peaked hat, Petunia as a princess. Sev went about in a mask he’d made himself from a paper bag, clutching a pillowcase. There had been no money in the Snape household for costume supplies. Reaching even further back into the mists of memory he could remember an even younger self - a toddler of three or four, thrilled to be out in the wind and the dark, clutching to an adult hand - his father’s or perhaps his grandfather’s.

As they went from house to house, he found that he knew a surprising number of people from various school events and neighborhood playgroups. Everyone knew Gavin and Oakley. Some of the other parents had been classmates of his own in primary school, people he’d known since childhood. They had done as he had, held onto their parents’ homes, and were now raising their own children there. The women smiled at him, commented on how the boys were growing. The men shook his hand, greeted him warmly. “It's nice to see a familiar face,” they’d say, “with all these new families moving in.” The fact that he was queer seemed to matter not at all. Somehow, in the years since he had first realized, with a sickening jolt, that he was attracted to men, the world had changed. Now he was just another dad in the neighborhood, an ordinary family man.

Remus would sometimes take offence at a comment by the neighbors that he perceived as insensitive or homophobic. But for Sev, who had grown up in this neighborhood, where ponce had been the worst insult one could utter, and being labeled a Nancy boy was equivalent to a death sentence, these small slights seemed trivial, and the reception his family had received seemed nothing short of miraculous.

He lurked on the sidewalk, with the other adults, while the children ran up to the doors and collected their treats. “Did you remember to say thank you?” he admonished, along with his fellow parents, as the boys raced on to the next house. The whole neighborhood was filled with small witches and demons, fairies and superheroes, who flew among the crispy autumn leaves as if buffeted by the wind.

Eventually Oakley grew fussy and Sev picked him up and headed for home, the heavy bags of candy slung over his forearm. Gavin, tired out at last, clung to his hand. Other parents were also herding sleepy, cranky children home, loaded with treats. The candles in the pumpkins on the front stoops had burned out. The jack-o-lantern faces leered, lurid and dark in the shadows. The wind blew harder, and a few drops of cold rain fell. Halloween was over.

*********

Up on the rooftops a white shimmering figure looked down on the street, watched the tall dark man herd the two sleepy children out of the rain and into the house. None of them looked up, none of them noticed him.

It was the ghost of Sirius Black.

The ghost drifted down until he stood in the wet front garden. When he touched the ground he changed into a dog, a large Newfoundland with deep sad eyes. Everything about the dog was big and eager, from the tip of his quivering nose, to his oversized, puppyish paws, to his large sweeping tail. The ghostly dog looked in the windows of the little house. He saw the two men inside cajoling the boys into baths and pajamas, he watched as they put their candy bags on a high shelf, made them brush their teeth. He watched as they all four sat on the parlour sofa while Remus read aloud. The larger boy looked over his shoulder, intent on the story. The younger boy sat in Severus’ lap with his thumb in his mouth. When the children were herded upstairs the dog became a man again. He drifted up onto the rooftop and sat for a long time in the driving rain, not bothered by it at all. At last with a sigh he stood and floated up into the sky and was lost among the clouds.

********

Petunia hated Halloween. When Dudley and Harry had been small she had done what needed to be done, dressed them up and sent them out with bags, stood in the door and handed out candy. But she was done with that now. She and Vernon had never really recovered from the war. Vernon’s job was a thing of the past. She worked as a clerk at the pound shop off the High Street in Little Whinging. They had never got over the fortress mentality they had adopted during that time. They didn’t like to open the door to strangers.

Petunia turned down the lights, and drew the curtains. The few trick or treaters that approached the dark house and knocked on the door of number four Privet Drive were ignored. It was a chilly night, and the wind was picking up. Petunia was tired, and her feet hurt. Vernon was drinking his Blue Sapphire in front of the telly. Petunia pulled back the curtain, and saw the small children, dressed as witches, superheroes, princesses and devils flying about the windy street like leaves. She shuddered, and went to join Vernon in the darkened lounge.

********

When he was younger, Draco Malfoy never would have imagined that he would spend Halloween in this way. He was at a party at number twelve Grimmauld Place, the home of Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley. It was mostly Gryffindors, naturally, but Draco was used to that by now. Blaise Zabini was there, with Luna Lovegood attached to his arm. A smattering of Ravenclaws. And Dudley, of course.

Draco was bored, and that made him drink too much. He didn’t have much to say to anyone here. He regretted coming. He talked quidditch with Blaise for a while, then stood around and listened while Hermione and Neville argued about post-war politics and the elvish rights campaign.

“It’s not that I don’t agree with you Hermione, I do,” said Neville. “It’s just that people aren’t really ready for the changes you’re proposing. If things move too fast, it’s just going to backfire.”

“How about if it was your family?” replied Hermione hotly. “Your children being denied opportunities, being told they’re second class citizens. You might not be so willing to take it slowly then.”

“Hermione,” Neville pleaded. “I know how these things work. Your campaign is much more likely to succeed if you’re willing to compromise.”

George Weasley was demonstrating the most recent trinkets from his joke shop to an admiring crowd, and the latest versions of Weasley’s Amazing Everlasting Fireworks were wheeling lazily about the room. In another corner Bill Weasley was regaling a rapt group with tales of his adventures as a treasure hunter for Gringotts. His two year old daughter, Victoire, was asleep in his lap, her thumb in her mouth, a trickle of drool on her cheek, detracting, Draco thought, from her otherwise angelic appearance. The impossibly old house elf, Kreacher, was passing around an ancient looking tray, loaded with canapes.

Draco watched Dudley playing exploding snap for a while. Dudley was dressed as a princess in full makeup, blond wig, bright blue silky blouse and a white taffeta skirt. Dudley was incredible in drag - large and proud, sexy and beautiful. He was having fun. He liked being at wizarding gatherings. He still got a kick out of being around magic. Honestly, Draco thought as he sipped his lager, watching Dudley was the most entertaining option available.

At last Draco escaped to the loo.

He found himself in line behind Hermione. She turned round and grinned at him, a bit drunkenly.

“Hello Granger,” he said stiffly.

“Draco,” she said. “How are you tonight?” She was definitely drunk, but then, so was he.

“Fine,” he said, warily. He had got used to a lot of things, but chatting with Hermione still put him on edge.

“How’re you and Dudley doing?” she asked conversationally. Draco felt the color rise to his cheeks. Damn! Damn! Damn!

“Wow, you really like him,” she said.

“Well, obviously.”

“I mean, I knew you liked him, but I guess I didn't realize it was so…. Passionate.”

“Shut up, Granger.”

“Sorry,” she said.

“It’s…….embarrassing.”

“Actually….It’s …...good.”

“I guess,” said Draco. “When it isn’t horribly embarrassing.”

“He looks beautiful tonight.”

“I know.”

“I wish I felt that way about Ron.”

“Don’t you?” said Draco.

Hermione just shook her head and looked out the window.

Draco didn’t know what to say. The awkward silence sat between them, like a stone. At last the door opened, and Seamus Finnegan emerged. He gave Hermione a comradely cuff on the shoulder, shot a dark look at Draco and disappeared into the crowd. Hermione escaped into the bathroom.

When Hermione was done, Draco went into the white tiled room and pissed. Then he stood and studied himself in the scratched and spotted mirror over the old fashioned ceramic wall sink. He was dressed as a vampire, and it suited him. He’d powdered his pale face to make it paler. He was wearing fangs, and a dramatic Dracula cape with a high ruff. His head felt heavy and he was mildly nauseous. He really just wanted to grab Dudley and go home.

After the loo he ran into Harry in the back hall, carrying several bottles of nettle wine out from the kitchen.

“Hey Draco,” said Harry. “Nice costume.” Harry was dressed in skeleton pyjamas, a Day of the Dead mask hanging from a string around his neck. It was a good mask, but as he wasn’t wearing it properly, the effect was ruined.

“Good party,” replied Draco

“Glad you could make it,” said Harry. “How's ...work and everything?”

Draco shrugged. He didn’t want to talk about his job at Gringott's, which he hated.

“How are the wedding plans going?” Draco asked in an attempt to change the subject. Harry and Ginny had announced their intention to get married a few weeks ago.

Harry grinned. “All right,” he said. “Listen Draco. I....I want to ask you something. Ron’s my best man, that’s obvious but I…..I want you to be in the wedding party. You and Dudley. I want you to stand up with me. Dudley’s my cousin, he should be there and.....you're his partner. I want you there as well.”

Draco looked at Harry. He didn’t know how to respond. They weren’t friends, exactly. More like allies. During the war, fighting on the same side, they had developed a mutual respect. And they shared a connection to Spinner’s End, a place that had become a home of sorts to both of them after the war. And Harry was Dudley’s cousin, of course.

Draco was pleased, but he didn’t want to show it. Not too much. “Of course, Potter,” he said, perhaps a bit too formally, but oh well. Potter was used to him, by now, or he should be. He held out his hand , and there was a bit of awkwardness while Harry transferred the wine bottles to the other hand and they shook. “Who’s going to give you away?”

Harry grinned at him then. “Lupin and Snape,” he replied. “Who else?”

********

Narcissa Malfoy stood on a balcony overlooking the sea. The wind blew ragged clouds across the gibbous moon. The moonlight reflected off the sea, shiny and silvery, but Narcissa did not see the beauty. Her thoughts were far away as she stood in the chilly wind. She looked across the sea, from the balcony of this stone castle on the coast of Spain where she and Lucius were in hiding. She wondered about her son and she wondered about her sisters. She thought of all the mistakes she had made, all the wrong turns she had taken, to land her in this cold and lonely place. Just as she was about to turn back inside, she heard a soft movement and Lucius was behind her. He reached out and put his arms around her. She smelled the whiskey on his breath.

“Don’t be sad, my love,” he whispered in her ear.

“I miss Draco,” she confessed. For a moment her eyes burned with tears but she tamped them back.

“Someday, my love,” Lucius whispered in her ear. “Someday we will return. We will return in glory. Our son will see the error of his ways, and he shall be restored to us.” He kissed the back of her neck.

Narcissa shuddered. She didn’t argue with her husband when he was in this mood, but it was not the reunion she pictured. She drew her cloak closer around herself and they went inside.

*********

Amanda was running, climbing as fast as she could up the stony steps. Her breath was coming fast, there was a stitch in her side but she did not stop until she stood at the top of the Astronomy Tower, high above Hogwarts. Here at last, where no one could see her, she let her hot tears flow. She cried in gulping, ugly sobs, glad to be away, where none of her fellow students could hear her. She cried for a long time. At last her tears were spent. She stood in the chilly wind, looking out at the rain lashed grounds. Her costume, a gauzy fairy getup offered no warmth. Her wings, made of wire and crepe paper, were bent at a funny angle. Her glittery eye make up was running down her face.

The Halloween Ball had been a complete disaster. She had thought she had friends. She had thought they cared about her. But apparently, she had been wrong. She thought of running away. She could sneak down to the quidditch pitch, steal a broom, fly over the mountains through the dark night, back to Spinner’s End, to Mr. Moony and Mr. Sev, where they cared about her, where she knew she was loved. Like a real Halloween witch, she thought as she pictured flying through the cloudy sky.

But she knew Mr. Moony and Mr. Sev would want her to stick it out. They’d both been through so much worse. She’d been through so much worse herself. She’d seen her mother and her step father murdered right in front of her. She’d been captured by Voldemort himself, terrorized and very nearly killed. She’d fled her home in the night to escape the Death Eaters and turned back to see it burning.

There was a crumpled piece of parchment in her hand. She unfolded it and looked at it once again. It was a crudely drawn picture of herself, exaggerating all her worst features. The artist had been quite talented and quite cruel. Her eyes looked tiny in a round face, her cheeks and lips huge, her freckles stood out as ugly black marks. Her tendency to chubbiness was exaggerated to obesity, rolls of fat squeezing around the fairy costume, making it look utterly obscene. Amanda the Panda said the words at the bottom in a jagged scrawl. She’d found it being passed around among her supposed friends.

Amanda stood at the top of the astronomy tower and started shredding that drawing - tearing it into smaller and smaller bits until at last the tiny pieces of parchment flew out of her fingers and scattered across the wet grounds, like snow.

**********

Andromeda sat by her fireside late into the night. She started out drinking tea, but eventually switched to firewhiskey. She drew her shawl tight around her, staring at the flames. This cottage where she had made her life with Ted had once rung with laughter and hope. Small footsteps had pattered on the floorboards, a young girl had grown into womanhood, the table in the dining room had been alive with chatter as her small family had shared many happy meals together. All that was gone now. Ted was dead, killed by the Death Eaters. Dora was dead, killed heroically in the battle of Hogwarts. Andromeda was left alone in a sad and empty house.

She stared at the flames, listened to the wind rattling in the eaves. At last, with a sigh, she picked up a quill and a piece of parchment and started a letter.

“Dear Narcissa,” she began. Her old eagle owl, Pandora, watched her with a cocked head, an intelligent yellow eye. At last the letter was done. Andromeda read it over, considered for a long moment. She rolled it up and tied it to Pandora’s leg. She carried the regal bird to the window, whispered in her ear, and set her free into the stormy night.

*********

The Albanian woods were cold and dark. Here it was not raining, and a half moon rode high in a clear, star spangled sky. A cold wind blew. A rat and a snake made their way together, across a clearing and into the thick shadows of the forest beyond. The rat climbed a tree and peered out over the landscape with dark beady eyes. The snake slithered over the ground, tasting the air insistently with its tongue.

The rat scampered down from the tree. He and the snake moved together over the cold ground, slow, deliberate.

They seemed to be looking for something.