InsaneJournal

FIC: Finding Time, 3/? - R
Title: Finding Time
Author: Serpenscript
Category: romance/angst/drama/dark/smut/humor, a little of everything
Pairings: Snape/Lupin, others mentioned
Rating: NC17 for violence, dark, and smut
Warnings: m/m slash, allusions to rape/noncon, mpreg
Beta: the wonderful rakina
Summary: Severus is about to be sentenced, and Minerva decides Lupin should keep him company until the sentencing. But she also has a plan up her sleeve to make sure Severus escapes the death penalty...but as everyone knows, "The best laid plans of mice and men gang aft agley..."
Disclaimers: Definitely not what JK had in mind!



The fire for the crucible,
And darkness for the soul;
For bravest is the human heart
That exits darkness, whole --

Still, what hope the heart may hold
In facing great defeat -
The morning dawns the brightest
When the darkness is complete!


Afterwards they talked; Severus shifted over and turned onto his side, and Lupin spooned up behind him, holding Snape in his arms. Snape's hair kept getting into his mouth and his arm underneath Severus was falling asleep, but he still wished he would never have to move. Here, he could do the most for Snape; he could hold him tight enough that the man could feel the werewolf's heartbeat against his back, thud-thud, thud-thud. Strong and regular, like everything else in their lives was not. Lying together like this he could whisper into the Potions master's ear, but it was the Potions master speaking for the most part, as if he had a lifetime's worth of words to expunge. Sometimes his memories still leaked into what he was saying, adding a wealth of vision and dimension to the flat darkness they spoke in.

"I used to dream, once. Foolish dreams…of family, a home, people I could call friends." A small, cramped, messy house that held too many bitter memories. A mother, more bitter than the house. Classmates taunting, "Snivellus, Snivellus!"

Lupin's arms tightened around Snape, and the man continued. "I tried at first, you know. To belong." His mouth curled in a painful smile; Lupin couldn't see, but with the strange cognition love brings he knew it was there. "But in Slytherin, you belong, or you don't. You pretend in front of the other houses, you keep up the façade, but I was no more accepted by my fellow Slytherins than I was by any other House."

Lupin stroked Severus' greasy hair gently with with his free hand. He listened.

"I was too poor, my robes too ragged. I was -- unappealing, I suppose, with my nose and --"

Lupin interrupted. "I happen to think it's a fine, noble nose, and I'd like to break the nose of anyone who tries to insult it!"

"Thank you for you compliments, but I am well aware my nose is hardly desirable, and I can assure you that I had no say in the genetics whatsoever." Snape's voice was dry, sardonic. "Either way, I was hardly a catch. I thought my intelligence might compensate, but since I was such a 'poor example' of a Slytherin, they felt I owed them my intelligence."

Two older Slytherins cornered him alone in a corridor between classes, handed him their books. "You're smart enough, Snivellus," they smirked, adopting the name the Gryffindors had coined, the only way they ever willingly aped the damned House. "I expect this done right, on time. You'll need to find your own parchment -- new please, not those scraped, ragged old parchments you use." They left, laughing about the freedom of their afternoon, leaving him sagging under the weight of their books.

He could feel Lupin growling: a low, inaudible, comforting vibration against his back. Comforting too, that someone beside himself resented his treatment. He shifted, managed to roll over on the narrow, sagging bunk to face Lupin, sliding one arm around Lupin’s neck, the other over the werewolf's side, and hugged him close, shaking suddenly with the enormity of what he was about to ask.

"When the time comes," he rasped in a broken whisper, "I want you to leave." He was grateful to Lupin for what he'd given him in his darkest time, but the werewolf was a survivor himself. He'd seen too many friends fall in the war, seen too much blood on his own hands, suffered too much from his own curse. He'd seen the surprising depth of emotion Lupin had for a washed-up ex-Death Eater -- and he found himself unwilling to allow the man to stand and watch one more death.

Remus inhaled sharply. "Severus, you can't ask --"

"I can and I will, Lupin!" Severus interrupted. "Damn it, do you really want another death parading around in your memories every night for years to come? Do you think I want --" his voice broke, and he struggled to master it, control it with the rigid will he'd been so famous for. "Do you think I want to be remembered that way, Lupin? Remembered like Harry will always remember Albus, falling backwards in death? The way Arthur will always remember Molly's last cry? I am not a monster, even after --"

Lupin cut him off by squeezing him so tightly that Snape had no more breath to speak. Hoarsely he said, "Then I will close my eyes, but you won't make me leave, Severus. I won't let you die alone. I'll hold on to you -- till the very end --"

Severus returned Lupin's embrace with a sudden burst of strength.

The time for love-making was past; now there was only Moving On.


+


When Craiggan returned for them they were both ready; clothes donned and hair straightened as much as possible with only fingers and no mirror to tell them what they'd managed. They sat side by side in the middle of the sagging bunk with Severus' hand held tightly in Lupin's, and together they blinked owlishly when the nightstick's dim light appeared; together they jumped when it clattered against the bars.

Craiggan seemed amused to see them side by side. "Went and buggered ‘im, did yer? And ‘im a dead man… suppose ‘e's got nothin' to fear from a werewolf, ‘as ‘e?" He flicked his nightstick at the cell, this time prepared with unlocking charms, and muttered Aperio vinculi under his breath; there was a muted clink as Severus' chains opened and fell off. Craiggan casually waved Lupin through the bars and stepped back -- involuntarily -- when Snape followed him, still holding his hand. "Ah well, now, everyone's entitled to theirs, an' I reckon ‘e'll get what comes to ‘im soon as we get topside…" He prodded them in the direction of the stairs; Lupin led the way, trying to will strength and courage through his hand where their palms clasped.

Craiggan had been right; the stairs were a pain in the arse. But the time spent laboriously toiling up the dark, twisted steps was precious; every second was borrowed, cherished, morbid time. Not unlike being in the war when you knew each minute might be your last.

Except for Severus, these minutes were his last and as Lupin’s heart spasmed, he felt Severus squeeze his hand. He firmed his resolve and stood tall; he would be Severus' strength. It was too late, but at least he'd finish things right.

The door to the room where the sentencing was to be held was a huge, wooden affair, heavy and gothic in its styling. Faded gilt letters on a placard read "Room of Judgment". Idly, Remus wondered who named these rooms: Room of Requirement, Room of Judgment. Probably the same person would call their bedroom 'Room of Rest and Relaxation'.  In his mind, Remus renamed 'Room of Judgment' to 'Room of Biased Ruling and Retribution.' It had more alliteration and seemed far more accurate than its current title.

And he was only thinking thoughts like these because if he thought about what awaited on the other side of that door, he'd snap. Something was beginning to stir underneath his skin, starting to snarl and demand to be unleashed; it yearned to rip to shreds the people who had mind-raped the man he loved.

Not like; love. Sudden, impossible, unstoppable love, even in the face of death. It was more than poetic -- it was pure fact. Somehow being faced with the whole of Severus Snape -- his memories, his dreams, his passions, and even his despair -- tempered and transformed like into love. They had spent less than a day together as lovers and soon Severus would die, and Remus… had never heard Severus say, "I love you". Suddenly, that realization blew through his mental barriers and he broke into a cold sweat. Remus tugged on Snape's hand and spun the Potions Master around to face him. Severus looked at him – bizarrely calm for a man about to die -- as if he understood exactly what Lupin had been thinking. Perhaps he had.

But Snape shook his head, his cold hands only trembling slightly in the werewolf's warm fingers. "Don't," he said warningly. "Does everything need saying with words? The same instrument we use for such trivial, banal comments such as 'Where is the toilet?' and 'Pass the butter'?" He dropped his head briefly against Lupin's shoulders, breathing in the werewolf’s dark, musky scent.

Again Lupin understood, was forced to understand. Words were the tools -- nay, weapons -- of those in the Room of Judgement. That knowledge tainted any vocal profession of love Remus or Severus might make. So he wrapped his arms around the thin Potions master and thought with all his might of the depth of his love for him. He felt Snape straighten, inhale deeply, push back his shoulders, lift his chin. No matter that the lip beneath that noble, beaky nose trembled minutely; to the end, Snape would retain what little of his tattered pride he'd salvaged.

But Snape was not alone.

Together they turned to face that heavy, gilded door. Lupin whispered, "Memento mori."

Severus translated, "Remember to die."

Lupin shook his head, holding Snape's hand tightly as Craiggan banged his nightstick against the door. "Too literal. 'Remember that everyone must die someday'."

Severus turned to lock eyes with Lupin. "And perhaps also, 'Remember all who die?'"

It was a plea, a last wish. Lupin granted it. "Forever," he whispered.

Then the door opened and light blinded both of them as they stepped forward.


+


Minerva sat stiffly on the edge of her seat while she scanned the room, though she managed a distracted smile for one of the witches who was talking to her enthusiastically. It was probably a ludicrous chance she'd taken, a thoughtless gamble with potentially disastrous results. Even now, she wasn't sure what had prompted her to ask such a painful task of Remus; or worse, what had prompted her to give the potion to the werewolf along with it.

Perhaps it was the fault of Albus Dumbledore's portrait hanging in the Headmaster's -- well, Headmistress' now - office. "Love can do wonderful things, hmmm, Minerva?" he'd said, eyes somehow still twinkling as brightly in two-dimensional canvas and oils as they had in real life. "What some might call impossible, even! Certainly everyone should have a chance at love; don't you agree, Minerva?" She hadn't been thinking about Severus' sentencing at the time, but Albus' words stuck with her -- and, well, she had lost her mind -- there was no other plausible reason for this. And it was going to result in not only the death of a condemned man -- but what would it do to the gentle, world-weary, stoop-shouldered werewolf who'd opened his own mind to that man? She was responsible for it, every ounce of pain he'd experience.

Scrimgeour was entering; he looked decidedly more composed than at the closure of the trial itself, though still stiff as a ramrod and glowering. At least glowering was normal for him, and not the result of inner hatred for Severus. As obsessed with his own arse as Scrimgeour was, he was still scrupulously fair; however, in a case like this, that could be both very, very good -- and very, very bad.

The upper levels of the room were packed but Minerva ignored them; they were here to taunt, to jeer and mock, but mercifully they had no power to decide Snape's fate. Instead, she focused on the jury: seven wizards, six witches. Fortunately Arthur and Nymphadora were on the jury; so was Shacklebolt. She knew how they would vote, at least.
There was a duo of gabbing witches whom she thought might be more sympathetic to Severus -- one of whom was currently chattering with great animation into Minerva’s ear. Rosemary was thin with a long horsy face, eyes too large and a head full of short, wiry, brown curls. The other half of the duo, Lisse, was a very plump witch with apple-red cheeks and an impossibly huge smile from ear to ear -- one of those affable, ever-pleasant people you would expect to see in charge of a children's toy store or a very nice bakery. She had a loud, unabashed laugh that would startle people to sudden quiet; Minerva rather thought she would make a wonderful teacher for young children. Both of them, however, were obsessively romantic -- which played right into her hands.

Minerva was more worried about the opposition; most specifically, a Potions master named Jaymin who carried a grudge against Severus. She had overheard him say that Severus gave Potions masters everywhere an evil reputation. His sister was less antagonistic, but Minerva's research showed that Jessamin had a tendency to follow her brother’s lead in everything and that was worrying.

And then there was Corbin, a dark man obsessed with the dark arts. Without research she might have considered that a good omen, but it appeared he thought death a good thing, with no particular concern as to who was doing the dying. He would vote for death just for death's sake. In the case of Nataniel -- well, he was nothing more than a pompous git who would stand on tradition for tradition's sake alone.

Scrimgeour called the room to order and everyone hurried to find their places; the higher galleries were packed with spectators. Vultures, Minerva thought viciously, forcing her hands to lie calmly in her lap. Although not everyone up there was clamouring for death, Severus had a few supporters there, albeit reluctant ones: Pomona Sprout, Poppy Pomfrey, Irma Pince and even Sinistra held seats above. Perhaps more surprising was that some of Severus' one-time students had made a showing, too: Luna Lovegood, Neville Longbottom, Ron and Hermione of course, and Harry Potter. She was most surprised -- and gratified -- by the last; Harry still obliquely blamed Snape for Sirius' death.

She herself was not part of the jury, of course; she had claimed an inability to be impartial, but in truth it was because she was far too involved, with too many stakes in the gamble.

Rufus Scrimgeour moved to stand on the raised dais, looking around at the packed room with the air of power and assertion he always carried and that Fudge had distinctly lacked and always craved. "We are here today to come to a decision on the fate of one Severus Snape," he said, and looked at a parchment that appeared in his hand, though Minerva was sure he had memorized it anyway. "Previously, we were supplied with evidence from the memories of the accused. Despite the... extenuating circumstances, we came to a conclusion that the evidence was overwhelming and found Severus Snape guilty of murder in the first degree, guilty of consorting with the enemy and guilty of various war crimes. Traditionally, the sentence for these crimes is death; however, Minerva McGonagall has supplied us with a hypothesis that Severus Snape is -- expecting," he said uncomfortably, as if the word itself was treacherous, "due to liaisons with his... lover."

This provoked a clamour from the spectators and some glowering from the jury. It sparked excited speculation between the chatterbox duo, whom Minerva suspected were quite in love with the idea of a Snape-in-love. Yet however appalling it might be a vote was a vote, and she had the rest of the jury to worry about.

"To deliver a death sentence is taboo if the condemned is expecting. Thus, we must ascertain the validity of this report, and to this effect we have placed a detection ward upon the floor near the door through which the accused will enter --" he gestured to the huge oak monstrosity of a door. "Should the accused prove to be with child, the ward will set a clearly-visible green nimbus of light around him. If the report is false, then the nimbus will be blue.

"If the light is green, then we must discuss an alternative method of action, for murderers cannot go unpunished in our society." He turned stiffly to the door, flicked his wand. "Aperio pro re!" Minerva leaned forward, her hands clenching on the folds of her robe as the door creaked open.

When two figures entered, squinting in the light, revealing the hands tightly clasped between them, she relaxed minutely. Holding hands was a good sign, a very good sign. She half-registered the loud gasps the chatterbox duo made; horse-faced Rosemary began whispering excitedly to Lisse, who couldn't hold back a delighted laugh. Minerva kept her eyes closely on Snape and Lupin, because their unwavering steps were leading them right on top of the detection ward. One step, one more -- the entire room fell so quiet in the sudden anticipation, she was sure this would give both the Daily Prophet and the Quibbler enough fodder for a century -- and their next step placed them into the centre of the ward, and light flared. Blue -- and green.

The room burst into chaos; spectators and jury alike burst into loud discussion, protests, and even laughter. For a moment, Minerva paled, then she forced herself upright, pushed her way through the others now standing, yelling to be heard, and made her way down to the floor. The potion had worked, but --

She stopped in front of the couple, took their clasped hands in her own trembling fingers. One hand bathed in blue light, one in green. Snape was trying to appear calm and resigned; Lupin, however, was staring at her in confusion.

"Minerva? What is this?" With his free hand, he gestured in an encompassing motion, signifying the light playing over both of them. "Haven't they decided already? What is the commotion about?"

Minerva gripped their hands tighter, inhaled deeply, sought to calm down; her panic would help no one, and worsen the already untenable situation. "Remus, why didn't you give Severus the potion? Didn't you read the note I wrapped in with the potion?" She tried to say it evenly and quietly so as not to be overheard, but her voice trembled on the near edge of hysteria. She would never gamble again, as long as she lived.

He was trying to understand. What had he missed? "No-o-o," he said slowly, "I didn't unwrap it until I was in the cell with Severus, and it was pitch black. I didn't notice any kind of note and you never said who was to drink it... I drank it, Severus didn't know what it was for..." Actually, Snape had guessed it was an aphrodisiac, and he'd certainly had no need of it, judging by their interlude - but he had no reason to tell her that.

Minerva threw up her hands in exasperation; she ought to consider herself lucky that he'd even remembered to open the parcel, all things considered! Lupin had never seen her so flustered. "Well, now, that puts a bit of a -- a kink in things," she said. She looked down at the hands she held; one pale, thin, and cold; one warm, strong, and tan. "You see, Mr. Lupin, that potion was an -- an instant conception brew. In other words, a pregnancy potion." And she blushed. It made Remus gape at her in shock -- not just from her words, but at the fact she was blushing.

"A p-pregnancy potion?" he stammered, "You mean I -- we -- I -- he -- which of us?" He looked over at Severus, hopelessly lost for words. Severus' calm was shaken by her revelation; his head whipped around to stare at her, dark eyes startled.

Hurriedly, Minerva explained, "Well, you see, it was for Severus' sake. If Severus were to be... pregnant, no one could justify a -- a death sentence. They would have to wait until the child was born, and hopefully, he would then be spared..." she trailed off. Severus was staring with detached fascination at the flush creeping down her neck. Already her ears were flaming. "Except for that plan to work, Severus would have had to drink it -- and you did instead -- and everyone expected -- I mean, I told them that--" She stopped, too flustered to continue.

Whiteness exploded in Lupin's head behind his eyes, and for a moment he staggered as her words sank in; Snape drew closer, put a supporting arm around him, held him up. He struggled for air; it felt like his lungs had frozen, shock stole his breath away. Severus held Remus until he steadied, the iron band around his chest eased and he could stand on his own. "You mean you told them that Severus would be the one, ah, pregnant, only we threw a spanner in the works when the wrong person drank the potion?" He shook his head to make his thoughts settle; he felt a ludicrous bubble of laughter in his chest, threatening to burst out. It felt too surreal. "I'm pregnant with Severus' child," he said slowly, mind still coming to terms with her revelation. "Am I really?" He looked down at the green light playing over his skin, at Severus' blue-lit hand still tightly clasped in his own.

Minerva tried for a smile, half-failed, and managed to look concerned instead. "I'm afraid so," she whispered. Snape stared at her; she wondered, fleetingly, what he was thinking -- or if he was thinking at all. Or worse, what he was feeling, and if he'd ever forgive her.

Lupin's heart warmed. It wasn't as she had planned, but well, as the saying went, 'The best-laid schemes o’ mice an’ men gang aft agley.' He squeezed Severus' hand encouragingly, and felt his heart leap when Severus squeezed back. "How long have you been planning this?"

The Head of Gryffindor sheepishly explained, "It was actually Albus' idea. His portrait's, I mean," she hastened to say when Severus opened his mouth to respond that Albus was dead, and that was the reason they were here in the first place, "only he didn't exactly say to use a potion, or - "

"Did he mention 'pregnancy' at all?" Severus interrupted, and to Lupin's amusement Minerva found herself blushing again.

"Well, no. He did say that love could do impossible things, that love should be given a chance. I'm not sure why I thought of it. I wanted Severus to have a chance. I told everyone that you two were... secret lovers... and that Snape was, well, expecting. I was hoping you both would -- ahem -- bond, enough to support my statements. And they -- " she waved a hand to indicate the chatterbox duo watching their exchange with great interest, " -- set up a detector ward near the door where you'd enter, to reveal any, ah, inclinations towards the family way. When you both emerged holding hands, it supported my claims greatly, except for the fact that it was you, Lupin, who was pregnant -- not Severus!"

Smiling slightly, Remus swung a dazed Snape around to face him. "Well, I hadn't planned on starting a family so soon, Sev, but what do you think?"

Severus' heart felt like it was breaking inside -- a family he would never see. Minerva's plan had failed; he didn't think Remus had realized it yet. He tried to push down the tiny flame of anger that flared up inside of him. Did she even think of the consequences to Remus? He managed to pull his face into a passable, creaky smile. "I think you'll look better in maternity garb than I would," he said, his rusty voice clearly audible through the hubbub. It cut through the clamour and a silence fell.

Minerva raised her hands, then let them drop to her sides in a gesture of hopelessness. "Well now, that's letting the cat out of the bag," she said.

Lupin shot a sharp glance at her but responded to Severus. "I refuse," he said lightly, "to wear anything, pink, frilly, or displaying cavorting baby animals." He would not give in to the panic warring inside; he would be strong, for his lover's sake. He would smile if it killed him. Which it might very well, watching Severus... watching him...

Snape watched the emotions chasing across Lupin’s face and with his free hand, reached out and cupped his cheek. "Remus," he said huskily. "Do you regret it now?"

Lupin replied by tightening his hold on Severus' hand and turning to face the jury of witches and wizards gathered there to pass sentence on Snape. He held onto his memory of their lovemaking and it gave him strength. "Did you hear that?" he said, to no one in particular, or to everyone. "I'm going to have a baby -- we're going to have a baby!" He didn't know whether to laugh or cry. "And you want to -- you're going to --" his voice stumbled, he couldn't finish. He looked down to hide the tears that suddenly welled in his eyes. Hadn't he wept enough at the end of the war? Molly had been like a sister to him, looking out for him in spite of his lycanthropy. How many other comrades must he surrender? He fought against his rising emotions.

"Severus Snape is my lover and I carry his child. If you sentence him to death against all evidence to the contrary, merely to satisfy your petty desire for revenge..." The pain in his chest was incredible; he raised his head to meet the shocked stares of everyone present and managed what he hoped was a wolfish, dangerous smile. "You will learn what it is to meet the wolf."

Stunned silence prevailed for a long moment before Jaymin jumped to his feet, shaking his head so violently his hair whipped about his face. "You threaten us, the jury?" he sputtered in rage. "You would defy the law? He is a proven murderer!"

Nataniel seconded Jaymin, but kept his seat. "Juryman Jaymin is, of course, correct; Severus Snape has been proved dangerous and a murderer, notwithstanding his history as a Death Eater who served Voldemort in both incarnations. Tradition does call for immediate execution." The room rang from the rafters as observers shouted out enthusiastic support for his words; Scrimgeour hurriedly called for attention, and finally calmed the clamour.

"Certainly we agree that tradition should be upheld, gentlemen," Rufus said in a placating tone. "Especially since it is now obvious that Severus Snape is not, indeed, expecting, and there is no taboo against--"

Lupin lunged forward at these words, snarling so loudly at first that Minerva froze, wondering if he was on the verge of a transformation. "If you dare --" he began, before Minerva regained herself and flung herself at him, trying to hold him back.

"Arthur, help me!" she gasped, and both Arthur and Shacklebolt rushed to join her, grabbing his arms, adding their strength to hers.

Lupin struggled wildly against their arms, growling deep in his throat, bestial, like a mother bear protecting her cub, Minerva thought wildly, only it's a wolf, not a bear!

"He is my mate!" he howled. "You can't! You won't! "

Scrimgeour looked unsettled, as if he didn't know what to do with a distraught, pregnant, male werewolf making a scene during a court sentencing -- and that was probably the truth of it, too. Lulabelle -- a blonde 'fashionable' witch on the jury -- tossed her head disdainfully. "Are we expected to pardon a murderer for the sake of a werewolf?" she said, her voice lightly mocking and scornful.

Nymphadora Tonks leaped to her feet to spin and glare at Lulabelle. "In case you've forgotten," she hissed at the blonde, "Remus Lupin helped us by recruiting a number of werewolves to our side, werewolves who faced off against their own kind to protect witches like you!"

Scrimgeour was yelling for quiet again, but no one was listening; nearly everyone was standing by then. Corbin smiled at Tonks coldly. "And yet, look at him now; he seems to have forgotten he's human. Or is he?" His smile widened when Tonks flinched. "Doesn't it bother you that his... lover... is a Death Eater and a murderer?" Tonks drew breath to retaliate, but Lupin whipped around to face Corbin himself, dragging Arthur and Shacklebolt with him.

"Wasn't it enough?" he snarled dangerously. "Weren't his memories enough to prove that he's not -- that he didn't want to --"

Snape stepped around to face him, cupped his chin, and turned it so Lupin was forced to look into Severus' dark eyes. "Remus," was all he said, but Lupin sagged in Arthur and Kingsley's arms, shuddering convulsively.

"I can't let them, Sev," he said hoarsely. "It'll kill me, to lose you now. I need you; the baby needs you, you're the father, and if they kill you, I'll --"

"Don't say it," Severus whispered, horror dawning on his face. "Don't, Remus --"

"Don't say what?" Lupin said wildly, gazing at Snape desperately. "Don't say I'll kill myself if you die?"

Beside him, Minerva inhaled sharply and Severus spared a moment to look at her, a dark look of unmasked anger. This is all your fault, the look said. And the look of pain she returned said simply, I know.

"This is ludicrous!" bellowed Scrimgeour. "I demand some semblance of order be regained before we continue this debacle! Lupin, your outbursts will not be tolerated in this court!" His gaze skimmed over the members of the jury. "Nor will yours," he added coldly. Reluctantly they sat, though Lupin pulled free of Arthur and Kingsley and stood looking up at him defiantly.

Poppy pushed through the press of witches and wizards in the upper galleries and made her way onto the floor; from there she bustled up to Lupin, pushing aside Severus to inspect Remus. Scrimgeour made to object, but Poppy turned a glare on him. "I am a mediwitch, I will have you know, and stress and upset like this is not healthy for an expectant mother -- or father," she hastily amended, while she ran her wand over Lupin, checking his health. Finished, she tucked the wand away, folded her arms, and turned to face Rufus. "Now, this has gone on long enough," she said firmly. "My word is that any executions planned for today be cancelled, and another method of punishment chosen. The expectant parent needs --"

"It's a ploy, obviously it's all been planned!" shouted Jaymin, springing to his feet. "It's the result of a spell, anyway, the 'pregnancy' -- they're using it to force you to spare the murderer! I won't be fooled, and neither should you!"

Corbin rose to his feet as well, uncoiling smoothly, a viper poised to strike. "I concur that this foolishness has gone on long enough, and it's high time to bring this farce to a close," he said coldly, staring down Poppy. "He has been proved a murderer, and when added to his war crimes, tradition clearly calls for an execution. Surely nothing can refute that?"

Lulabelle was vigorously nodding, Nataniel added a "Hear, hear!" and even Danael nodded in agreement. Scrimgeour straightened.

"Well then, since we are in agreement --"

But another witch was standing: Sorcha, a member of the jury who'd been silent until then. She was an older woman with a lean, spare frame, shoulder-length auburn hair streaking grey at the temples and faded green eyes; she had an experienced, no-nonsense look about her. Minerva had spoken to her on occasion and rather liked her; she'd found Sorcha shrewd on matters of education, the ministry, and the economy. "We are not in agreement," she said quietly but firmly. "There is more at stake here, Rufus, than revenge and hidden agendas." She turned and nodded to Minerva, Remus, and Severus. "Lives are at stake; are you in such a hurry to throw another one away?" She turned to look at her fellow jurymen, meeting their gazes squarely. "How much death is enough?"

Scrimgeour smiled at her condescendingly. "That's very poetic, Sorcha, but hardly relevant in the courtroom --"

"I disagree," said another voice. "I think she's right, and it is relevant." A very pale Harry Potter had made his way to the floor, flanked by Ron and Ginny and followed by Hermione, Neville, and Luna. He made his way slowly across the open floor to join Snape, Lupin, McGonagall and the others, before facing Scrimgeour himself. "I think you should listen to what the others have to say," he said quietly; only his clenched fists betrayed his agitation.

He turned to face Lupin and Snape. "Like me," he said, and his eyes hardened a little looking at Snape. "I don't like you, Snape, not at all, and I probably never will. You're still a greasy git --" he faltered for a moment, but continued, "-- but I understand why you – did what you did." He took a deep breath, and Ginny took his hand, squeezed it. "But this isn't about how I feel about you, is it? It's about -- families." His eyes held Snape's, told him what his words didn't. I don't like you, but Remus needs you.

Jaymin opened his mouth to shout a denial, but Harry turned his face towards him: the pale, old-before-his-time face of the Boy Who Lived. The boy who’d had to become a man before he'd learned to be a child; the boy who had lost his parents far too soon and had struggled to protect those he cared about ever since. "Your sister is here, isn't she?" he said simply, and Jaymin's mouth shut abruptly. Harry looked over at Jessamin, a subdued, dark-haired jurywitch. "What would you do for your brother?" he asked her.

Corbin's eyes burned with cold fire as he glared down at Harry Potter and his friends. "Are you implying that we should now allow murderers to walk freely simply because they're related to someone?"

Harry ignored Corbin, turning back to face Severus. "I didn't get to know my parents. The first real family I had was everybody at Hogwarts. We didn't really get along, but you taught me what I needed to know. Both of you." He shared a faint smile with Lupin. "But now the war's over, and the -- baby -- is going to need a family. Not any family, but its own family. It's going to need you, both of you." He looked up at Scrimgeour. "Who will take care of the baby when it's a full moon? Who will make the Wolfsbane for Lupin so he doesn't bite his own child -- or someone else's? Will you condemn him as well after everything he sacrificed to help us fight Voldemort?"

Rufus Scrimgeour looked as if he had swallowed something very sour and revolting. "Has anyone else got anything to say?" he said, rudely.

Rosemary and Lisse looked at each other, then both rose. "Maybe the death sentence is a little harsh? Severus Snape sacrificed as much as anyone in the war against Voldemort," Rosemary suggested nervously.

"And we saw that Albus Dumbledore asked it of Severus --" added Lisse a little more boldly. "Maybe it was more of a -- a mercy killing than murder?"

"Well he certainly didn't want to kill Albus, wasn't that obvious from his memories?" snapped Tonks, and Minerva shot her a warning glance.

Kingsley cleared his throat. "It might be wise to consider a less permanent measure of justice," he said. Tonks sent him a grateful look.

"Like what? Picking daisies? Coddling babies? Escorting old ladies across streets?" snapped Jaymin, now seated but still irascible.

"Something on another continent. Somewhere far enough away to not trouble us. Break his wand, take away his Apparition license, make him work for a living," Nataniel suggested, watching the couple from beneath hooded lids.

Danael -- an older, affable wizard who had a permanently sleepy expression -- suggested, "Egypt? Curse-breaking? Heard they're having problems with cursed objects down there, they can always use more willing hands."

This seemed to amuse Corbin, though it was obvious his vote still favoured execution. He shrugged, "One manner of death is the same as another, I suppose."

Scrimgeour grimaced. "I suppose I should know better than to ask to put it to a vote at this point?"

Harry looked at Minerva, then at Lupin and Snape, and then at each of the jury members before answering. "Actually, I think now would be a good time."

"I'm glad you think so," Scrimgeour said sarcastically, "I was about to ask your opinion on it, even." Harry smiled thinly, acknowledging the sarcasm; Rufus scowled and scanned the room. "I'm sure you all know, but a vote must have a three-quarters majority to pass; with a jury of thirteen, that requires nine votes. In favour of the death penalty for Severus Snape, found guilty of murder and assorted war crimes; or in favour of community service --" his lips twisted in a grimace, "as a cursebreaker in Egypt for an unspecified time, terms of which to be drawn up at a later time." He flicked his wand and a polished ebony board resembling a tally board appeared behind the dais. It had two columns, one labeled "Execution" and the other "Community Service" in precise white letters. "You have ten minutes to place your vote. Once placed, it cannot be changed; please be certain," he said, and turned his back to them.

Severus shuddered; he was afraid to think, to consider, or to allow his mind to wander beyond the very uncertain present and his lover's hand clasped in his, surrounded by those he almost counted friends. Beside him, he heard Lupin inhale sharply, and he glanced at the board; four tallies had appeared already. Two white, clear marks evenly balanced both sides of the board. As he watched more marks appeared, three in rapid succession, a pause, and two more. Three more trickled in uncertainly as the minutes dragged by; Lupin could feel his heart pounding, the blood roaring in his ears, and he drew Severus close to him, wrapping his arms around the trembling man. Two more; he closed his eyes, held to Severus tighter, and prayed.

He flinched when he heard Minerva gasp and felt Severus go limp in his arms; desperately he spun, holding onto his lover but searching for the eyes of someone he knew would understand -- Harry Potter -- and found them.

Harry's eyes held no pity. They -- sparkled. Like Albus Dumbledore's had once done. Disbelieving, he looked at Ginny, and Hermione and Ron and Neville and Luna, and saw the tension beginning to fade from their faces; Hermione even managed an uncertain grin.

Minerva had tears on her cheeks; yet she, too, was smiling. "Look at the tally board, Remus," she encouraged. And he felt Harry and Ginny push at him, turning him back around to face the board.

Beneath the 'Execution' column, four white marks stood neatly in a row.

And underneath the 'Community Service' column was four white marks, a slash-through....and four more white marks.

Nine.

He felt his legs buckle under him; Arthur and Kingsley caught him and slid him to a sitting position on the floor. He felt like the room was spinning. No, the room was spinning, it had to be. Poppy was kneeling next to him with a concerned expression, and Shacklebolt was trying to slide Severus out of his arms. Frantically, he tried to hold on, but his body didn't seem to obey him.

Harry was talking to him, but his voice sounded odd, stretched out. "It's okay now, Lupin, you can let go," he was saying. But he didn't want to let go. He didn't want to ever let go.

"Shock," Poppy was explaining, and her voice sounded thin and high and far away. "That and ill health, plus a sudden pregnancy --" her tone was accusatory but her face seemed relieved, Lupin thought. And then the colours and noise of the room swirled away together into darkness, and he didn't hear anything more.