Life is our Sentence

He murmured softly to himself over the low burble of his potion while his pale hand reached around the candle to grab what appeared to be several lizard, or, maybe, snake tails. Scrutinizing the handful, he shook off a few and brought them over the mouth of the cauldron. He stopped for a moment to admire the white-gold color of the potion. A smirk of pride pulled at his lips, but he thinned it away as he began to stir the potion in wide, languid circles. Dropping one of the tails into the concoction, he began to count silently to himself:

"One, two, three, four…" He dropped in another. "One, two, three, fo–"

Suddenly, the hidden tattoo on his arm flared in pain. He gasped at the unexpected sensation as his fingers spasmed and then fell limp, releasing the rest of the tails into the potion. Body trembling, he reached for his wand, ready to vanish the ruined potion, but–

"Shit!"

The gold-white bubbled a dangerous lime green and with no more warning, it exploded. Toppling back, the man could only scream at the scalding pain of the liquid in addition to his arm as he curled into himself, searching for a bezoar stone among the hidden pockets of his robe. However, it proved to be too late because a noxious fume rose up from the slime coating him and all he could do was turn on his side and spill the contents of his stomach before he passed out from the smell…

Watching with rapt attention with his students as they filtered into the room, he took a moment to scrutinize each of their faces as they passed the threshold of his classroom. He saw the confusion, shock, joy, and amusement play across their youthful countenances as they saw him sitting on his desk. Once they were all situated, he looked down – only to sigh at the sight of boys' loafers and rolled up slacks. He had wanted to wear a miniaturized version of his robe, but he'd felt ridiculous upon seeing himself in a mirror. He had looked like a child playing dress-up. As far as he was concerned, that was not the way to go into his first class of the day post-incident where all his students were sixth years.

Hopping down from his desk, he attempted to ignore the way his hair bounced around his chin as students waited by their desks with open mouths and shifty eyes.

"This," he started by gesturing to his twelve-year-old body, "is a temporary side-effect to an interrupted potion and I will be my usual self in a week." Narrowing his eyes into a glare he knew didn't look at all threatening, he hissed, "I am still your professor and if any disrespect is shown to me, there will be more than a detention and a few lost house points, understood?"

Several heads nodded, others stayed still and gaping, and one stupid, daring, dunderhead did not hide his snort. He then fell from his chair, hooting with laughter. Covering his face, the ex-potions professor gritted through a clenched jaw, "Fifty points from Gryffindor and I will be seeing you in detention for the rest of the month, Mister Weasley."

"You can't do that!" another Gryffindor cried along with the shriek of their chair against the stone floor.

Letting his hand fall away, he raised an eyebrow at Hermione Granger. "Did I not just warn you all against disrespect?" Her mouth was open, retort ready to flow, yet he did not let it be voiced. Instead, he spoke loudly as he declared, "Yes, Miss Granger, I did."

Unbidden, his eyes meander to the last of their trio, the dratted Potter spawn. There was an uncomfortably contemptuous glower on his face and despite the knowledge he held, the defense professor's stomach did a flip. It was a lot like the face James used to wear when he thought Severus needed to be taken down a peg for some slight or a seemingly presumptuous action.

Fighting back the nerves the look brought forth in him, he raised an eyebrow at the sixth year and demanded, "Do you want to say something as well, Mister Potter?"

"No, sir," the boy replied quickly, his glower disappearing just as suddenly as it appeared.

Turning around to cast his wand at the board to start the day's instructions, the defense professor called over his shoulder, "You can join Mister Weasley in his detentions for that look, Mister Potter."

"What look?" he demanded. "You're mental!"

Shoulders taut with tension, the small professor turned and met the awful green gaze of his enemy and once-love's son. "Leave," he ordered. "Now!"

Grabbing his bag, the boy huffed loudly and turned away, not looking back once as he left.

Satisfied with his absence, he began to tell his class the day's lesson:

"Now, today we are going to learn the…"

As he spoke, he began to miss the deep timber of his voice. The reedy sound that filled his ears just sounded so young and it made him feel all the more helpless every time he heard it leave his mouth.

Watching the duo clean the floor with toothbrushes, Severus had to stifle a yawn as he drummed his legs against his desk in an effort to stay awake. He knew he'd said they weren't leaving until the whole floor was clean, but when something or, rather, someone passed the threshold of his classroom he knew his plans were about to change. Looking up, Severus pushed himself off his desk to meet the Headmaster.

"Hello, sir," he greeted.

There was a twinkle in the bearded man's eye as he nodded. "Good evening, Severus."

"What brings you here?" the small professor inquired as he subconsciously began to fidget with his shirt's collar.

Clearing his throat, Albus turned to the two students watching with feigned disinterest. "You boys are dismissed," he said to them.

Unhappy at the usurping of his authority, Severus began to protest, "Sir! They are my–" But it was too late, the boys had gotten their things together and had already disappeared out the door. Scowling, Severus turned to look at the old man again. "I thought we agreed you'd let me handle my student my way."

"Usually, yes," the headmaster agreed with a chuckle. "However…" Albus trailed off suddenly, looking very grave. "I wanted to check in with you."

The Severus blinked. "Me? Oh, I'm fine sir, a few lost house points and a couple of detentions were given throughout the day and I'd say they'll be treating me with the usual disdain just in time for this to be fixed." He ran an anxious hand through his hair and chortled, "I only need to survive several more days, remember?"

"About that…"

Alarm bells went off in the ex-potions professor's mind. "What? Are they afraid it will take the weekend as well? That's so typical of the ministry!" he complained while fussily crossing his arms.

"No, Severus," Albus murmured as he reached out to put a hand on his shoulder. "They've been running the numbers and lining up ingredients for almost three days now and, well," he paused, searching Severus's blank child-face. "They don't see a cure in sight," Albus explained as gently as one in his position possibly could.

"You're joking."

Somberly, the old man shook his head, "I'm so sorry, my boy."

"No," the small professor warbled, "no, there has to be a cure! Let– Let me look at it, let me try! I can– I can– I can do it. I know I can! I can…"

Albus shook his head. "You know we can't let you experiment with the potion, it's far too dangerous," he reminded the man turned a child.

Shaking, Severus gave a mute jerk of his head before ripping himself away from the Headmaster. And then, Severus did something he hadn't done since he found out his mother died during his fifth year, he ran away.

"Severus!" Albus called after him, but the defense professor ignored him in favor of losing himself somewhere in the bowels of the Hogwarts. He just wanted to be somewhere completely, utterly alone where no one would hear him while he was lost in the throes of his misery.

He was the biggest dunderhead on the planet, Severus decided as he ignored the other professors calling his name. Stifling a cry behind his hand, the boy turned his back to the opening of his hiding place and curled in even further on himself. Right now, he wanted to just die and never face the world of the living again. Maybe the best way to accomplish that was by staying here…

-O-

Instinct kicked in the moment someone began to drag him out by the back of his shirt. Twisting, Severus started to claw at the hand that held him with the ferocity of a man about to meet death. But, before he could lunge in an attack at the poor sod, once he was dragged out of his chosen grave another set of arms wrapped around him. Breathing fast and mind quickly falling back in time to another moment where something similar once happened, all Severus could think to do was whisper the one thing that sometimes brought forth pity in his personal villains.

"I'm sorry."

The arms around him let go and he started to fall forward until someone caught him and hoisted Severus back onto his feet.

"Are you alright, Professor?" he looked up at the question. It was Luna Lovegood talking.

Brushing a hand down his rumpled shirt and then scrubbing at the grittiness in his eyes, he nodded. "I'm just peachy," he grumbled all the same.

"We should probably take you to the Headmaster, sir. Don't you agree, Luna?"

Spinning around, Severus saw it was Ginny Weasley who had spoken.

He frowned at the two girls. "Why the Headmaster?" he asked.

"He told us all this morning when we began searching for you to take you to a teacher if we found you," Ginny replied.

The boy gave them a quizzical look. "He's making students look for me?" he questioned with a fair amount of astonishment and no small amount of embarrassment. He wasn't truly twelve and he knew the castle far better than most. If anything, he would have thought Albus and the others would have let him be under the assumption when it suited him, Severus would turn up.

"Sort of," Ginny answered. Then, blushing, she muttered, "He said you'd disappeared after he told this wasn't– Well, you know, and some of us felt…" she trailed off as she waved a hand at his body.

"I see," he whispered, hot tears searing the back of his eyes.

Pointing down the hall, the redhead grinned far too brightly to be true and said, "Let's get going, then!"

And once the trio set off, it wasn't long before they stumbled across the deputy headmistress, who upon seeing him, instantly reached out for her child colleague.

"Severus!" she cried with relief. "Oh, what were you thinking?" she demanded as she ran her hands over him."You are well, aren't you? Nothing was broken or bruised?"

He frowned and batted away her hands. "I am well and I'd appreciate you not treating me like a student!"

The girls, having not left, watched with amused and fascinated eyes. It was unlike Minerva to react in such a way, and the newness of their ex-potions teacher's appearance had yet to lose its charm. The Scottish woman smiled weakly and came around to put a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Forgive me, Severus," Minerva murmured. She looked back to the girls. "Thank you, Miss Lovegood and Miss Weasley," she said.

The blonde and redhead grinned. "It was no trouble at all, Professor McGonagall," Luna deflected with an airy twirl of her feathery hair. And the two stayed where they were to watch the woman guide the boy away – likely to the Headmaster's location.

Seated across from the bearded man, Severus hunched his shoulders. "I'm sorry, sir," he whispered.

"I suppose I should have suspected that could be a reaction."Albus sighed. "You behaved in a similar manner when I announced your mother's death when you were a student…"

The defense professor winced. "Let's not talk about that."

"Of course," the old man agreed. "Lemon sherbert?"

Severus glared. "I hate them," he snapped. "Instead of beating around the bush, tell me what you are to do with me? Turn me out? Put me in an orphanage? Make me walk around here and pretend to be a student?"

"I wouldn't do that to you," the man frowned. "Yes, we'll need a different defense professor, but I think we could apprentice you to Horace. Or call you his assistant, perhaps," he mused. Albus reached across the divide then to take the child's hand. "You have served me well and I won't turn you away because this has happened," he told him with grave solemnity

"I would," the small professor said, "I'm useless."

Inspecting Severus's pale, boy-slim hand, the Headmaster shook his head. "I suppose we fortunate I am not you, aren't we?"

"If– If I stay… Am I expected to interact with the students?" Severus questioned.

Sitting back, the bearded man fiddled with his spectacles. "It would do you well to build up some sort of repertoire. They are aware of things going on in our world and who knows what you could garner from their conversations."

"Forgive me, Sir," Severus sneered. "But I think we both know I've gathered more than enough information on what will occur." He looked to his small hands then, feeling quite inadequate. "Narcissa is going to be terribly distraught when she hears of this development," he confided in the old wizard before him.

Albus rubbed at his eyes beneath his bifocals. "I truly am sorry, my boy." He sighed. "If only…"

"If only I hadn't been working on that potion, if only I hadn't been putting in that ingredient, if only he hadn't called for me at that second," Severus listed off with a dark and wistful undertone.

"Timing is everything," Albus concurred with a chuckle that sounded mirthless.

Clenching the arms of his chair, the now ex-defense professor mumbled, "Indeed. May I go now, sir?"

"Of course," the Headmaster agreed and, so, Severus went.

Pulling aside Draco, Severus studied his godson's countenance. It was pale. Worn. Sickly. Evidently, his failures were beginning to catch up with him. Severus felt guilty about this fact, if things had gone differently, he might have been there more for him. Then maybe his godson wouldn't be nearly so close to failure.

Despite all the obstacles and setbacks, though, Draco was standing up to all the stress admirably. Maybe the Lord had been smart to pick Draco over other, more experienced Death Eaters because even if he was scared, and messing up at every turn, Draco had not given up or gone around the bend.

Sometimes, Severus thought the Lord knew them a great deal better than they liked to give him credit for. The thought scared Severus enough for him to shake his head and meet his godson's gaze.

"I can help, you know," he told him.

Disgusted the blond crossed his arms. "Forgive me sir, but you are younger than I am now and I doubt you can do any better!" he snapped angrily.

Frowning, Severus narrowed his eyes. "You see, that's where you're wrong. Despite my appearance, I am still in possession of a capable mind and my ties are closer to Dumbledore than yours ever will be!" he countered in a low voice.

"This is my mission! Mine!" Draco roared, all pretenses of keeping things hushed and private lost in his rage.

Severus felt something. Maybe he'd caught something from the corner of his eye or maybe he'd just heard a misplaced creak, but something told him to wrap this up. Now.

"I understand." Severus then attempted to soothe his godson with a brief pat on his arm. "But it doesn't mean you can't use me as a resource. I am here, use me."

Draco appeared unsettled at this idea, but eventually, he nodded. "I'll think about it."

"That's all I ask," Severus replied, his eyes searching and failing to find anything suspicious in their surroundings.

Maybe it had only been in his mind? Brought on by his godson's shouting when he ought to have been whispering? Maybe, but Severus had a sinking feeling it just wasn't so.

Letting the man check his bag over, Severus sat on his bed and flipped idly through a student's paper. "Why, sir, are you so insistent that I go to the Weasleys of all people for Christmas Holidays? Surely I'd be of better use here?"

"No, I'd like you there," Albus replied.

Hopping off his bed, Severus took his satchel and packed the papers in his possession away. "But you agree, I should be back after Christmas? Horace will need my help and I'd like to…" he trailed off, not quite wanting to say.

"Check on Draco? And the Slytherins?" the old man replied with some amusement in his twinkling eyes. "Yes, Severus, you will be back soon enough," he replied with fond exasperation.

Hesitating, the boy looked up at the Headmaster. "What is it that you've heard, sir? What has made you decide I am needed at the Burrow?"

"Just a feeling, my boy," the old wizard chuckled as he attempted to pat his head.

Ducking away, Severus snapped, "I'm not a boy, Albus! Do not treat me as such."

The twinkling eyes dulled some and the wizard smiled wanly. "Of course, my boy," he relented.

"Shall we, sir?" Severus asked and when the Headmaster began to move, he did as well. A knot was in his stomach and nerves were already demanding that he fidget with his collar or sleeves. He didn't want to know what the little golden brats would say when they found he was going to stay with them through Christmas.

-O-

Walking in behind the lanky redhead that was the youngest Weasley boy and Potter, Severus's eyes dart around, looking for escape routes perchance they became necessary. But then the two teenagers moved aside and he was exposed to Molly Weasley's maternal gaze.

"Ah, Severus!" she exclaimed as she approached him with a smile. "Dumbledore said you would be staying with us until after Christmas."

Clutching his satchel, he stared up at her with sharp eyes. "I'm glad he notified you in advance at least."

"Oh," she mumbled, obviously unaware that he'd not known until this morning. Her smile wavered. "Well, we have a room set up for you. I hope you don't mind sharing with Ron, Harry!" she called after the two teenagers.

The messy-haired youth paused in where he was conversing with Arthur. "No, that's alright," he replied.

Motioning him forward with an open hand, the older woman said to Severus, "Come this way, dear."

The defense professor wanted to tell her he hated endearments, That he was no one's "dear". But it felt ungrateful. And so, he instead bit his lip and let her babble as she pleased, only objecting when a hand came too near to rest on his shoulder. He would let her call him what she wanted, tell him what she wanted and place him where she wanted, but even Molly Weasley, the matron of matrons, would not touch him as she wanted.

No matter how harmless, gentle, or kind her touch was.

He'd only allowed two women to touch him with kindness and he'd be damned if he let a new woman begin to caress him after he'd gone over sixteen years without.

Thoughts? How do you like this first half?

Thank you so much for reading.

Edited on 6/21/17