Chapter Text
Severus Snape was not supposed to go to Godric's Hollow.
He knew that.
But he had seen Dumbledore hurrying out of the castle to Hagrid's hut, late on Halloween night, and... something had seemed off. His instincts told him something was wrong—he had no other way to explain it.
After Dumbledore's visit, Hagrid wrapped himself in a great coat and started off down to the path to the front gates of the castle.
Severus dressed in his own cloak and followed. He had to run, but he caught up with Hagrid before he reached the gates.
"Hagrid," Severus panted. "What's going on? What did Dumbledore say to you?"
Hagrid stopped walking and turned to face Severus.
"Something's gone wrong in Godric's Hollow," Hagrid said.
Severus felt himself go cold. Godric's Hollow—that was where Lily lived.
"Wrong?" Severus echoed faintly.
"Dumbledore set up a spell on the house to monitor it, and he—he needs me to check it out. He—"
Hagrid broke off.
"I'm going with you," Severus said firmly.
"All right," Hagrid said, but a concerned look entered his eyes. "Dumbledore warned me—it might be—he thinks the worst might have happened."
Severus refused to allow himself to believe something like that until he saw it with his own eyes. "Let's go, then," he said impatiently. "It sounds like there's no time to waste."
Hagrid agreed, and his long strides quickly closed the distance to the front gates, while Severus half-jogged to keep up. Once outside the gates, Severus frowned at Hagrid. "How were you planning on getting there?"
Hagrid looked a combination of sheepish and proud. "Dumbledore said it would be all right to use a little magic," he said. "I thought I'd Apparate."
"Why don't you let me do it," Severus suggested. It wasn't that he didn't trust Hagrid, it was just—well, all right, he didn't trust Hagrid to be able to Apparate properly.
Hagrid acquiesced with good grace. Severus and Hagrid linked arms, then Severus turned on the spot, concentrating with much more attention than he usually gave Apparition. Hagrid was quite the body to side-along Apparate.
Severus performed the spell successfully. They arrived in the main square in Godric's Hollow, in a little pocket of space hidden from Muggle eyes. It was already dark out, and there were no Muggles around to notice as Severus and Hagrid stepped out from the square. Severus followed Hagrid as he turned the corner and walked down a little street.
In short order, Severus's worst fears were confirmed. A house on the end of the street was blown apart, with debris scattered in the garden.
Hagrid's stride quickened.
Severus viewed the scene with clinical detachment. His feelings were frozen, set aside, to be dealt with later. Distantly, his mind registered that they should not be able to see the house—if Dumbledore had been right about the Potters using the Fidelius Charm.
But here it was, in front of them. A cottage with a chunk missing from the upper story.
Hagrid was quiet as he swung open the gate and walked up the path. He opened the front door, with Severus on his heels. Hagrid froze at the sight of a dead body ahead of them, at the foot of the stairs.
Severus saw at a glance that the body was James Potter. Severus brushed past Hagrid, still feeling curiously detached from everything. He was not vindictively glad that Potter was dead. Nor was he sad at the loss of life. He was simply—driven forward. He mounted the stairs two at a time and came upon the scene of destruction. The hallway on the top floor had been destroyed along with the room next to it, and the interior was open to the night sky.
His heart pounding, Severus picked his way along the edge of the hallway and rounded the corner into the room at the center of the destruction. A body was lying on the floor in front of a crib. Crying was coming from the crib, but Severus had no attention to spare for it. He knelt by the body, and brushed red hair away from a deathly pale, frozen face.
Dimly, Severus registered that Hagrid had entered the destroyed room behind him, and was saying something. He had no notion of what the man might be saying. It was all—it was all over. Everything, all that he'd done and said and lost and gained this year—it was for nothing.
Someone was screaming, or weeping. There was a loud noise of an engine, and a third person in the room, and there was more shouting, but none of it reached Severus, kneeling over Lily's body, stiff in his frozen grief.
Sirius Black wasn't bothering with polite niceties when he steered his flying motorbike over the streets of Godric Hollow and landed directly into the Potters' house through the blown-out hole. The Statute of Secrecy was the least of his concerns right now.
There were people in the house—and it was not James and Lily. Sirius cut the engine and leaned the bike against the only wall that was still intact. He pulled off his helmet and stared at Hagrid. What on earth was Hagrid, of all people, doing here?
"What happened?" Sirius asked, foolishly.
"They're dead," said Hagrid, looking as pale and translucent as a ghost. "James and Lily. They're dead. You-Know-Who killed them."
"It's not possible," Sirius protested. "That's not possible, I just saw them yesterday, it's not—it can't be—"
Hagrid was lifting something out of a crib. An infant. It was—baby Harry?
Sirius stared at the baby, dumbfounded.
"He's alive?"
Hagrid didn't say anything, silently taking up a blanket from the crib and tucking it around the infant in his arms. Harry was squirming, and crying softly.
"Are you—sure—about James and Lily? How can they be dead and Harry alive?" Sirius asked, desperate to hear something else, some other version of the story.
Hagrid nodded towards the floor. Sirius tore his gaze away from baby Harry, and finally noticed that there was someone else in the room with them. A figure was kneeling over a body lying on the floor, head bent in a prayer position, fists clenched on his thighs.
The body was Lily Potter. Stubborn, willful, prideful Lily—with no life in her. It was wrong—she should be outraged, she should be jumping up and down in a fit of temper, her baby was crying and strangers were in her house and—
Bloody hell, the figure kneeling by her body was Severus fucking Snape.
"You piece of shit," Sirius snarled at Severus. "What are you doing here? You have some fucking nerve. Who killed them, huh, was it you?"
Severus didn't move, didn't answer, didn't make any indication he'd heard Sirius.
Sirius took a step towards him, wand raised, when Harry's cries suddenly turned into piercing howls.
Sirius immediately turned to Harry. "Shit, Hagrid, what are we going to do?"
Hagrid reached out and patted Sirius on the shoulder. "The only thing we can do, Black. Keep surviving and keep fighting."
Sirius stared at the bundle in Hagrid's arms. Harry was red faced and very unhappy. "Give him to me, I'm his godfather. I'll look after him."
"Dumbledore said he's going to his aunt and uncle's," Hagrid said, tightening his grip on Sirius's shoulder.
"What?" Sirius asked, shocked. "Who? Why?"
"Dumbledore knows best," Hagrid said, shaking his head sadly. "Poor little Harry is an orphan now. His family will look after him."
Sirius felt like he was still in shock. He couldn't process anything. He didn't understand what had happened, except—
Except this one truth. The Fidelius Charm had been broken. The Secret-Keeper had not kept his secret.
How had they got to him? Had they threatened Peter's family? His other friends? Had they tortured his mother in front of him until he broke? A thousand scenarios flickered in Sirius's mind and disappeared just as quickly.
They shouldn't have even known Peter was the Secret-Keeper. It should have been impossible. Sirius, James, and Lily were the only people on earth who knew. The Death Eaters could have no notion about Peter. Had... had Peter been the one who approached them?
It was unthinkable, and yet....
They'd known all year there was a traitor in the Order.
"Right," Sirius said numbly. "You can't Apparate with a baby. Take my bike and get him there safely, all right? I won't need it anymore."
"You're a good man, Black," Hagrid said. "Chin up, okay? Harry will need you to be around while he grows up. Don't go doing anything stupid."
Hagrid tucked Harry into one arm, and with his other one, he reached out and forcibly hauled Severus to his feet. "That goes double for you, Snape, you hear? Go back to the castle and talk to Dumbledore. Don't get yourself into trouble now."
Severus barely registered the words, but he looked up and saw Hagrid's face was tear-stained. To Severus's shock, Hagrid raised an arm, and without warning, Severus found himself enveloped in a hug.
Severus stiffened. He and Hagrid were on friendly terms—and had been ever since Hagrid had found an eleven-year-old Severus sneaking around his pumpkin patch looking for illicit ways to gather potions ingredients—but not hugging terms.
Severus wasn't on hugging terms with anyone.
"Be careful," Hagrid admonished him once more, and then he was mounting the motor bike, kicking it into life, and flying away with a roar.
It took a few seconds to register that Sirius Black was in the room.
"What are you doing here?" Severus scowled. "Following me around?"
"Why would I follow you?" Sirius asked, throwing his hands up in the air in exasperation. "No, I was investigating—Ugh. You know what, I don't have time for this. I need to go find a rat."
"Your friends are dead and you want to find a rat?" Severus asked in disbelief. "What rat?"
"It's none of your business," Sirius snapped. "If You-Know-Who got to the Potters, it's because someone led him to them."
"Someone—like who?" Severus asked, his repressed emotions starting to rear their ugly heads and flood his chest with dread and despair. Dumbledore had promised to keep them safe—he had promised—and the Dark Lord had promised to spare her—he had promised—and—
A rat?
"You don't know anything," Sirius sneered. "I'm going to take care of business by myself. Get lost, Snape. I don't even know what you're doing here."
Severus glared at him. "Lily has been my best friend since we were nine years old," he retorted, hot and angry. "Not that it's any of your business."
"Lily hasn't spoken to you in years," Sirius sneered again.
"Shows what you know," Severus muttered. "Arsehole," he added under his breath.
Sirius probably heard it, though, because he shot Severus an even filthier glare. "Get lost," he said again, then started to turn on the spot like he meant to Disapparate.
Severus lunged forward, stopping him mid-turn, and tackled him to the ground. With a loud shout, Severus dug his wand into Sirius's throat.
"If you fucking know what happened to them, Black, you will tell me right now!"
Sirius's reaction to being tackled and having a wand shoved into his throat by his enemy was the last one Severus expected.
He started laughing, wildly and loudly, and laughed until tears sprang into his eyes.
"It's all my fault," he said, when he had the breath to speak. "It's my fault they're dead. It was all my idea. Go ahead and kill me, Snape, I don't even—I fucking deserve it."
Severus swallowed. He backed off, easing up on Sirius and scooting a few inches away from him. "Explain," he said curtly.
"I don't fucking owe you shit," Sirius spat. "You have no idea what's going on."
Severus's throat tightened. "I know they were hiding under the Fidelius Charm. I know they knew the Dark Lord was after them. I know Dumbledore promised to give them all the protections he could."
Sirius seemed taken aback by just how much Severus did know. He started, then seemed to reconsider Severus.
"Yeah," Sirius said quietly, roughly. "They were under the Fidelius Charm. And there is only one way to circumvent it."
The room was silent for a few moments.
"Who was their Secret-Keeper?" Severus breathed out.
"Peter," Sirius said. "Peter Pettigrew."
"Pettigrew?"
Sirius nodded.
"Pettigrew—is he—no way. There is no way Peter Pettigrew is a Death Eater."
"I think he might be," Sirius said softly.
"Dear god, anyone can become a Death Eater these days," Severus replied, feeling affronted. The Dark Lord used to have standards! "Okay. Fine. Let's find him and see if you're right."
Sirius snorted, and sat up. He wiped his hands off on his robes, as though he had touched something dirty. "There is no 'us' here, Snape. Fuck off."
Severus stood at the same time Sirius did. "Fat chance of that," Severus said. "I want to know who's responsible for my best friend lying on this floor dead."
Severus glared at Sirius. Sirius glared back.
They kept it up quite some time.
"Ugh," Sirius finally said, with feeling. "Fine. I don't care. But if you get in my way, I won't hesitate to take you down."
"Likewise," Severus said with a haughty sniff. As though Sirius could beat him in a duel. "So. What exactly is your brilliant plan?"
Sirius took out his wand and balanced it on his palm. "Like I said," he repeated. "I'm going to find a rat."
Sirius uttered a basic tracking spell. To Severus's surprise, the wand reacted to it, spinning in Sirius's hand and resting with its point somewhere behind Sirius.
Basic tracking spells were both simple and very difficult. They were simple if the object you wanted to find was simple—the direction north, or your lost set of keys as long as they were the only keys you owned. Things got more complicated if you want to find the specific key that fit the front door, or the location of a town you'd never been to, or—most complicated of all—a person.
Sirius had to have had tons of practice finding his friends with this spell, because a weak or poorly-cast tracking spell on a person would just send the wand falling off the caster's hand.
Not that Severus was ever going to admit he was impressed with Sirius's spell casting.
"London," Sirius said in satisfaction. "Thought so. You coming or not?"
"Oh, I'm coming," Severus said coldly. "On the condition that you talk to him before killing him. I want to hear the full story from his own mouth."
Sirius grinned toothily. "Oh, he'll talk all right," Sirius promised, his eyes glinting with a mad fervor.
Sirius turned on the spot, and Severus grabbed his arm just in time to Apparate with him.
Even successful tracking spells were a tedious business. The wand pointed in a particular direction, with no indication of distance. They overshot their target frequently, and it soon became apparent that their target was moving around.
It was a long, exhausting night.
Severus and Sirius caught up to Peter Pettigrew in the late hours of the next morning. They caught a glimpse of him in a crowd, standing on a corner at a bus stop. Severus circled around behind Pettigrew while Sirius stepped forward and loudly confronted him.
If Severus had been expecting Pettigrew to run, he was wrong.
Pettigrew stood up very straight, and raised his own voice. Tears stained his face. "Lily and James, Sirius! How could you?"
Pettigrew was doing a very good impression of a grieving man. Severus had a momentary twinge of doubt about Sirius's story. What was Pettigrew accusing Sirius of?
Sirius looked dumbfounded. He'd stopped in his tracks, his wand held limp, uselessly, in a hand pointing towards the ground.
Severus's doubts were resolved when he realized Pettigrew was going for his own wand. He watched Pettigrew's lips start to form the Blasting Curse—and he knew it was too late. Even wordless magic, which Severus was very good at, would not stop Pettigrew before he harmed the Muggle bystanders milling around them in close quarters.
Severus clamped his right hand on the Dark Mark underneath his left sleeve. If Pettigrew was a Death Eater, Severus could cripple him by causing pain to Severus's own Mark. The Dark Marks were all linked, modified versions of Protean Charms, and Severus could make Pettigrew's burn with the same strength he could make his own burn.
It was agony—causing his own Mark to burn violently—and Severus fell to his knees, nearly blinded and unable to function. He didn't let up on the pain he was causing himself, because dimly, he could see that Pettigrew was collapsing too, interrupted mid-spell from whatever it was he had intended to cast.
So Pettigrew was a Death Eater. Satisfied, Severus promptly passed out from the pain.
Sirius unfroze as soon as Pettigrew collapsed in front of him. His wand shot up, but there was no need— Pettigrew was down, albeit through no action of Sirius's. The crowd around them erupted in screams, and people started scattering.
Very mysterious, but whatever the reason, Sirius was grateful for it. Pettigrew had gotten the better of him! Pettigrew had been faster than him, Sirius Black! Disgraceful. The lack of sleep and his grief for James must be affecting him more than he realized.
Sirius shot ropes at Pettigrew, binding him head to toe, and laid a curse on him that prevented him from changing into his Animagus form. Then he peered around for Severus.
In the oddest turn of events, Severus had also collapsed, and was passed out on the ground. Sirius thought about just leaving him there—he'd deserve it, the filthy rotten git—but....
He had made himself useful tonight, keeping Sirius sane and on task, and helping corner Pettigrew. Reluctantly, Sirius revived him.
Severus stirred, opened his eyes, then groaned and closed them again.
"The hell is wrong with you?" Sirius asked, irritated. So much for being useful.
Severus pointed his wand at his own arm and muttered something Sirius didn't catch. He instantly seemed to feel better, the lines on his face relaxing and the tense angles of his body softening.
Severus got to his feet. Sirius didn't offer a hand to help.
"Are we going to kill him, then?" Severus asked, bending over to examine Pettigrew's body.
With no warning, half a dozen witches and wizards popped out of thin air around them, wands pointed at Severus and Sirius.
"Hands in the air!" they ordered.
Sirius rolled his eyes, but put his hands in the air. Severus took another half a second to think about whether to comply, then decided in favor of it.
"We got a report of a duel in front of dozens of Muggles in public," one of the Ministry workers said to Sirius sternly. "Going to need a whole squad of Obliviators for this. What do you have to say for yourselves?"
"The only person who was fighting is on the ground, helpless," Sirius answered patiently. "No one else here is a threat. Can I put my hands down?"
The wizard narrowed his eyes at Sirius. "Who are you?"
"Sirius Black," he replied promptly, never one to pass up the opportunity to make something useful of his name when he could.
The wizard relaxed, and lowered his wand. "Fine," he said. "You can both put your hands down. Explain what happened."
Suddenly, Sirius felt overwhelmed. Explain what happened? Explain how his best friend was dead, leaving a child orphaned, and it was Sirius's fault? Explain how one of his other best friends was probably a Death Eater and had been spying on everyone for a year, culminating in the ultimate betrayal?
Sirius couldn't explain. He put his head in his hands and wept.
Sirius and Severus ended up being taken to the Ministry for questioning. Sirius finally pulled himself together to explain what had happened, the whole sordid story with the Fidelius Charm and the Secret-Keeper switch. He reported Pettigrew as an unregistered Animagus and deferred to Dumbledore on the exact details of why the Potters knew they had to hide from Voldemort or how the charm had been cast or how Dumbledore had known something was wrong in Godric's Hollow.
Severus refused to say anything to anyone. He'd picked up a couple wands from Pettigrew's body—one of which he recognized instantly as Voldemort's—but no one asked Severus to surrender any of the wands he was carrying, so he didn't.
He sat by himself in an Auror's cubicle, staring blankly into space. All around him, he heard talk of what had happened. The Dark Lord had shown up to Godric's Hollow to kill the Potters. He'd killed Lily and James, but not the baby. When he turned his wand on the baby, it backfired, and the Dark Lord was gone.
The wizarding world was safe. It had been saved by a baby. The Boy Who Lived.
Severus did not speak until Dumbledore appeared. Severus fixed Dumbledore with a stare, his grief and his horror speaking for themselves.
"You promised," Severus whispered. "You promised to keep her safe."
"She and James put their faith in the wrong person," said Dumbledore. "I have spoken to the Minister and you're not under arrest. You're free to go. Come home to Hogwarts."
Severus couldn't speak. He picked up his cloak, and turned his back on the man. Severus left the Ministry by himself. Dumbledore didn't follow.
Somehow, Severus and Sirius exited the Ministry at nearly the same time, to find themselves once again on a London street, face-to-face.
They stared at each other, both utterly spent, too tired for their mutual antagonism.
"I need a drink," Sirius finally said. He turned on his heel and marched to the nearest Muggle pub. He flung himself down dramatically into a chair, and leaned back in performative exhaustion.
Severus, having found himself following Sirius for no reason at all, took the chair opposite him. A waitress came by to take their order, and Sirius asked for two whiskeys, neat.
Severus raised an eyebrow.
"Tell me what happened to make you and Pettigrew collapse," Sirius ordered peremptorily.
"Maybe someday," Severus said vaguely. Their drinks came; Sirius downed his in one go and immediately ordered another. Severus sipped at his.
"Tell me how you were on speaking terms with Lily, then," Sirius said crossly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. It was a casual gesture that Sirius managed to make appear arrogant and handsome, and Severus resented it deeply.
"We were best friends since we were nine," Severus said. He was too weary for anger or indignation at the question. "She was mad at me for a while over that slur, but we started talking again after school. She was scared and lonely and missed me."
The warmth of the whiskey making its way through his blood was surely the only reason Severus was confiding such things in Sirius Black, of all people.
"Huh," Sirius said. "I don't think she ever told James."
"What's there to tell?" Severus asked. "We're just friends. She wasn't unfaithful to him."
Sirius knocked back his second drink, and ordered a third. Severus's glass was empty too, and he was promptly served another one.
"I don't know what to do," Sirius said. "Life is suddenly empty. James is gone. My other friend turned out to be a Death Eater. You-Know-Who is gone. The war seems to be over, just like that. And I'm... so fucking alone."
"You have no idea," Severus muttered.
"At least you have a bloody job," Sirius shot back at him. "Something to do. I've got nothing."
"You could get a job," Severus pointed out. "I wonder if I'll keep mine, after today. I should be teaching this very moment. I wonder what's happening with my classes."
"Who cares," Sirius said. "What does it matter? What does anything matter anymore? Why am I in a pub drinking with Severus Snape?"
"Who cares," Severus echoed Sirius's words. "Maybe we'll drink ourselves to death."
"Cheers to that," Sirius said, raising his glass. Severus clinked their glasses together, then downed his.
It was not long before they completely lost count of the whiskeys.
Severus opened his eyes to an unfamiliar ceiling. He blinked away sleep and looked around, confused. He was in a sitting room, lying on a sofa. Which made no sense. Hadn't he been in a pub?
He tried to think, to remember what had happened—he'd been drinking with... with Sirius fucking Black, that's right, because Severus was a moron and evidently no longer cared what happened to him. So he'd gone drinking with his old boyhood enemy instead of reporting to work like his boss had ordered him to.
Severus groaned, and sat up, then immediately regretted it. The room spun, and Severus wanted to throw up. He felt extremely ill.
"You don't hold your liquor well," came Sirius's unpardonably cheerful voice. He entered Severus's vision and held out a cup. "Here, this should help."
Severus took the cup gingerly and sniffed at it. He recognized a commercial hangover remedy, and decided to trust it.
He downed it, then closed his eyes and leaned against the sofa. He took a few deep breaths.
"Where am I?" he finally asked, opening his eyes. To his relief, the room wasn't spinning anymore.
"My flat," Sirius said. "Good thing I kept my head enough to get us here. You were completely out of it. Not used to drinking?"
Severus didn't answer. He felt the hangover remedy slowly working its magic in his system. "Oh, god," he groaned. "I'm really, really late for work."
A flash of resentment crossed Sirius's face.
"Er," Severus said, feeling wrongfooted. He wasn't sure what the resentment was about, in this particular case. "Thanks for not leaving me passed out in my own vomit in an alleyway."
Sirius snorted. "You're welcome," he said. "How the hell did you convince Dumbledore to hire you, anyway? You're way too young to be a professor."
"Tell you later," Severus muttered, by which he meant 'never.' "Uh, who got the bill at the pub?"
"I did," Sirius said. "You can make it up to me by answering some of my fucking questions, yeah?"
"Look, I—fuck, can't you give it a rest? Everything I cared about went up in flames yesterday and it is fucking. Not. Okay. I have to get to Hogwarts before I'm fired on top of everything else, okay? God. Leave me be, for once in your fucking life."
Sirius's face went cold. "Fine," he said. "Suit yourself. Show yourself out of my fucking life, then, please."
"Fine," Severus answered, pushing himself to his feet. Everything hurt. "You're fucking welcome for helping with Pettigrew and not letting him blast you and dozens of Muggles into tiny bits. Have a nice life."
Severus stormed to what he dearly hoped was the front door, wrenched it open, and stormed out into what was, fortunately for him, a hallway. He slammed the door shut behind him angrily.
Fucking Sirius Black. Trust him be a selfish arsehole about everything, including this.