Chapter 3

Foula was a place the world forgot. Battered by wind and salt, the Muggle village clung stubbornly to the island's spine. Severus Snape had chosen it precisely for that reason, the remoteness, the anonymity, the silence. Here, he was not a spy, not a professor, not a Death Eater. He was simply a man who brewed potions in solitude, his only company the seabirds wheeling overhead, who sometimes got cheeky and tried to take his toast.

The hearth burned low in his cottage while sunset approached. It casts long shadows across the shelves lined with vials. Severus was bent over a cauldron when the sound of wings broke the rhythm of his concentration. Then thudding against the windowsill. He looked up to see a black great horned owl fixing him with those sharp eyes, clearly not happy about having to brave sea winds to deliver a message.

Severus frowned. He had not kept an owl in years.

The creature extended its leg, and Severus untied the scroll bound with an emerald ribbon. The parchment was thick, scented faintly of sandalwood and something darker. The wax seal already told the Potion Master who it was from. He still broke it.

The words were not the clipped formality of a summons nor the continuous demands he had been getting from Dumbledore to return. Severus read them and had to close the parchment once before opening it again. Just to make sure if he read it right. 'Five years have passed since the crown was claimed, and yet the world remains incomplete without you. The gala will mark the anniversary of prosperity, but my true celebration would be your presence.' Severus's lips thinned. It was an invitation, yes, but it read more like a love letter. Such a notion would be laughable.

He let the parchment fall onto his desk; staring at it for too long would only give him a headache. Then, he strode to the hearth and tossed a pinch of floo powder into the flames.

"Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire, England, the first study on the second floor," he snapped.

Lucius's face shimmered into view in the heart, composed as ever. Yet when his eyes fell upon Severus, there was no surprise. Only the faintest curve of a knowing smile.

"You received it, then," Lucius drawled.

Severus's eyes narrowed. "You knew it was coming and didn't warn me?"

"Of course. You should have known it was coming as well when you agreed to attend to Astoria's Potions request. But seriously, what was I to say? Oh, please be on the lookout for Lord Slytherin's invitation?" Lucius replied smoothly. "Did you truly believe you could vanish to the edge of the world without anyone noticing? Lord Slytherin values discretion, Severus. He allowed you your privacy. I merely... respected it."

Severus's jaw clenched. "So he suspected all along."

Lucius inclined his head. "Suspected? He knew. He has always known, I suspect. But he chose not to intrude. It was one of the reasons why I decided to follow him after the Dark Lord's fall. I'm an opportunist, yes, and you know this very well, but I liked how he alluded through the years that he knew that I knew where you truly were, yet respected your privacy enough to wait."

Lucius's smile did not falter. "He respects you, Severus. He respects you so much that he gave you space for five years. You knew what he could have demanded with the Dark Mark when the Dark Lord was defeated. You knew you could have been bound once more. You were the only one of us whom he removed the Dark Mark for, and now, he invites you. Though if you decline, I don't see him forcing himself on your personal space." Lucius added. "He's weird like that. You are the only Death Eater he let go without consequence."

"Honestly, I do not get his taste in partners, but the heart wants what the heart wants." Lucius continued.

That night after the floo call, Severus retreated to his bedroom on the second storey and left the invitation on his desk. The owl had stayed as well, finding its way into Severus's stores and gobbling up part of a cured sausage before settling in for the night between the couch pillows. Severus stared at the bird; the bird stared back. Both looked unbemused at the prospect of sharing a space.

The next morning, Severus sat at his desk. The flames in the hearth had died down somewhere in the night. The owl sat perched on the back of his chair, hooting softly, though uninterested in the Potion master's dilemma. Said Potion master was now having an internal debate on how to approach this matter. If he accepted, he'd be the laughing stock of the court. Five years ago, Lord Slytherin had taken over after defeating the Dark Lord, cashing in the massive amount of life debts the magical community owed him. The Death Eaters had been claimed by conquest, as was his title. The life debts that the Ministry personnel, including Fudge, owed him basically guaranteed his reign.

His decision to revert the governing system back to a monarchy surprised everyone, but no one could oppose him at that point. So herein lies the dilemma. If he accepted and showed up like a commoner, which he technically was now, considering the class system, he'd be publicly humiliated at the celebration. If he declined without a good reason, say severe illness, or death, then he'd insult the reigning monarch, especially after receiving a personalized invitation.

"This is giving me a headache," Severus muttered. The preening owl still paid him no attention.

It was half an hour later that he decided on a response. Severus dipped his quill in the inkwell before scribbling on unadorned parchment.

'My Lord Slytherin,

I am not a man of finery. My life has been plain, my habits austere. If I should attend your gala, I fear I will appear underdressed beside the grandeur of your court. I ask only that you do not hold it against me. I am, after all, a simple potion-maker, not a nobleman.

—S. Snape'

He sealed it quickly and handed it to the owl, who hooted once before flying out the window. Then he sat back down and sighed. He had planned on brewing his new experimental potion today, but his mind was now elsewhere. Just why was Lord Slytherin so interested in him now? He didn't even know the man's real name, but he came onto the scene five years ago like a wrecking ball.

—-Five years ago—-

The battlefield, that was the Ministry, was a mess. Bodies were strewn all around as the Order had apparated into chaos. "Hold the line!" Dumbledore shouted as Order members helped Aurors and Unspeakables stave back the onslaught of the Dark Lord's army while civilians evacuated.

"I need help over here!" Severus called out to nearby Order members as he was stuck behind a marble pillar that was getting smaller with each blast. Alecto Carrow and Bellatrix had honed in on him after he had cut down Amycus, who had been ready to slice Fudge in two. The Minister had crawled to safety, but the rage of a sibling should not be underestimated. Severus had hunkered down the best he could while trying to find a way out. No Order members had responded to his call, which really shouldn't surprise him. He had been on his own more often than not in battle.

Severus gritted his teeth and dove from the crumbling pillar towards the next barricade while sending a tendon-severing jinx towards Alecto. It must have hit as he heard her scream in pain. He was nearly behind the new barrier when he felt searing pain hit his leg. He hissed in pain as the spell burned his nerves in his right calf. Looking out from where he had landed, he could not see who had hit him. Bellatrix was nearby, but he knew her methods. This wasn't a Crucio. He managed to drag the rest of himself behind the new barrier, which was fallen rubble from the fountain. Several other Aurors were near him. Severus gritted his teeth as he went back to shooting spells.

That's when the whole battlefield changed. He apparated in a bolt of lightning into the area, gripping the Dark Lord by the throat, choking him. Severus would never admit that the display of power actually made him blush.

The Dark Lord's desperate gasps for breath tore through the chaos, freezing the battle. Both sides froze. Order and Death Eaters alike watched the impossible unfold. The man who had appeared was no one they recognized. He was cloaked in black and green, and his presence radiated power so raw it made the air hum. He held Voldemort aloft, choking him as though he were nothing more than a rag doll.

Severus was dragged back to the present when tapping on his window glass ensued. He turned to look only to see the same black, disgruntled owl, this time carrying a package and a letter. With a flick of his wand, he opened the window, and the bird flew straight for him. 'How long had he been sitting here in thought that this bird made a round trip from Tintagel Castle?' he mused as he took the package and the letter attached. Again, the owl didn't leave and proceeded to make himself at home, ignoring the Potion master's glare.

With somewhat shaking hands, he opened the letter.

'Master Snape,

You call yourself plain, but I have never thought you so. You are not measured by silks or jewels, but by the sharpness of your mind, and by your quick wit. I dare to say that I rather enjoy you tearing down your foes with sarcasm more than in battle. Oh, how I wish I could be so direct with all these stuffy nobles around me.

Still, if you fear appearing out of place, allow me this indulgence: in the accompanying package, you will find robes of my own design. They will not be gaudy, nor ostentatious, but crafted for you alone. Wear them if you wish. Or burn them, if you prefer. But know that they were made with you in mind.'

Severus put down the letter and then just stared at the package with only one thought in mind. 'How in Merlin's name did Lord Slytherin get his measurements?!'