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Perhaps I Intend To


Severus Snape was sitting in the pub off Knockturn Alley alone, and as himself. It felt good to be out of James Potter’s uncomfortable body for longer than just the couple minutes he’d spent here and there between swigs of Polyjuice. Knockturn Alley was the only place he really felt safe letting down his guard like this, and this pub - Warlock’s Brewery - was where he’d told Regulus to meet him. Before him sat a glass of butterbeer in a foggy mug with a chipped handle and behind him, at another table, there sat a hiccuping hag. Regulus stepped through the door nervously, looking around, and the bartender, a man with long dirty blonde hair that hung in his eyes so thick you couldn’t even see his eyes glanced at Severus as his new guest arrived, and Severus motioned for two more butterbeers.

Regulus sat down.

Both of the dark haired boys stared at one another, neither speaking, and the blonde-haired bartender came over and dropped the two mugs before them on the table and shuffled away. Severus took his up, but Regulus left his where it was.

“It’s rude to let a drink stand, Regulus,” Severus Snape said low and cold. Then, reading Regulus’s mind, “No. I did not poison it.” He rolled his eyes.

Regulus said, “You can’t blame me for wondering.”

Severus rolled his eyes again in reply.

Regulus said, “Look, I came here because you said you were going to do some talking and so far all you’ve done is sat there and mocked me for not trusting you when, in fact, I found you yesterday, transfigured --”

“Polyjuiced,” Severus corrected lowly. “It’s a potion, not some pretty wand waving.”

“-- to look like my brother’s best friend,” Regulus continued without missing a beat, “Who you are not, by the way --”

“Ugh and thank Merlin for it,” Severus drawled. “Your brother is an absolutely idiotic bit of rubbish. If you could hear some of the filthy things that go through his mind…”

Regulus pursed his lips, more offended by this statement than he was willing to let on, and said, “So stop looking at his mind, then.”

Severus smirked. “It takes barely any effort. A feeble mind is an unguarded mind.”

Regulus had to use every ounce of control within him to keep his face straight, to keep his mind from lashing out. He said, “Look, Snape, I kept your secret alright? If you want me to go on keeping it I’m going to need to know the details. Otherwise… something might… slip.”

Their eyes met for several long moments.

Severus leaned forward, “Fine. I’m impersonating James Potter to give the Dark Lord time with the real one.” Severus’s voice was low.

“Why does he need time with James Potter?” Regulus asked, trying to sound as disgusted as he could by the thought of spending time around Potter.

Severus looked pleased by this reaction, and he continued, “He’s investigating what Potter knows about the Blind Seer, Mopsus, and his clocks.”

Regulus said, “I know he’s investigating the Blind Seer’s clocks, he told me that much himself.” Regulus wanted to make a point of showing Severus Snape that he knew just as much information as he did, and that he’d gotten it from exactly the same source as well. Severus frowned. “What I don’t understand, Snape, is why you are impersonating James, for one (you’re literally the last person that should be, seeing how much you hate him), and also what in Salazar’s bloody knickers does the Dark Lord think James Potter knows about Mopsus?”

Snape stared at him. “It’s disgusting how alike you sound, you and your brother.” He leaned back from the table a moment and glanced about - taking a few seconds to study the hiccuping hag behind him, and then he turned back to face Regulus again. “You didn’t have Mopsus as a teacher when he was at the school, did you, Regulus?”

“No,” Regulus replied. “Professor Clearwater was already teaching when I started Divination.”

Severus said, “Well. When Kostos Mopsus was teaching, he had a collection of clocks in the front of the room, all along the windowed wall behind the teacher’s desk. There was also a room to the left, filled to the brim with clocks of every kind. There had to have been a thousand clocks if there was one. And they all kept different time.”

Regulus waited as Severus Black paused a couple beats as though he were stopping talking there. “And so?” he prodded finally.

Severus said, “And so the clock he seeks was there. He has evidence to believe it was Potter that destroyed the clocks. Therefore, if one of the clocks survived, Potter would know of it.”

Regulus frowned. “So he thinks James has one of the clocks?”

“Or at least where to find it.”

“And what good are a dead man’s clocks?” Regulus asked, quoting Maryrose.

Severus stared at Regulus long and hard, then a chuckle trembled his lips and he whispered, “You really should have come to Durmstrang, Regulus… there’s so much that you don’t know or understand.” He smiled.

“What do you mean?” Regulus asked.

Severus cleared his throat, “Just because a man like Mopsus… has died in the physical realm… does not mean that he is dead, Regulus. It simply means that he is waiting… biding his time.” He paused. “A man doesn’t live to be over 3,000 years old without a back-up plan, Regulus.”

“3,000 years old? You’re mad.”

Severus shrugged and sat back.

Regulus hesitated. “So what’s the clock do then? Tick for 3,000 years?” They didn’t even have clocks like that 3,000 years ago, he thought skeptically.

Severus shook his head, “The clock Voldemort seeks stores a good deal more than time.”

Regulus made a face, “What?”

“Oh, has the Dark Lord not counted you worthy of that information? I suppose you’re not his favorite after all. Probably still hanging about in your father’s shadow.”

Regulus would rather prefer not to be noticed by the Dark Lord. If he wasn’t even noticed, then perhaps getting away with an escape would be more possible, maybe if the Dark Lord forgot he even existed, Regulus could have the future with Maryrose Jenkins he wanted in peace, without fear, without --

“You’d have to kill him,” whispered Severus, staring into Regulus’s eyes, a smirk growing on his face.

Regulus had let his guard down for but a second, and the thought had flit through his mind.

And Regulus breathed, “Perhaps I intend to.”

Severus Snape stared at Regulus for a very long moment… and stood up and walked out of the pub, leaving him behind.

Regulus swore and got up and he ran out of the pub, dropping a galleon to cover the bill and then some - and ran out into Knockturn Alley and looked about, trying to spot Severus, but he was gone, as though he’d vanished, and Regulus ran out through the hags and warlocks and other shady characters that sneered and leered and hovered in archways, ‘til he’d got out to the street and he looked about, but still no sign of Severus anywhere.

He stood there helplessly.

And then he spotted them - Sirius and Remus - down the street a way, standing together in queue at one of the butterbeer carts, Sirius standing before Remus, rubbing his arms, talking and laughing. He started toward them. This was perfect, it was his chance, and before he could lose his nerve, he’d just walk up there, tap Sirius on the shoulder, and he’d tell him he had to talk, somewhere alone, and he’d bring Sirius back to the Leaky Cauldron, to their room and he’d tell him what Snape had just told him about what he wanted James for, and maybe he’d even tell Sirius about the alarm clock…

But then there was James Potter, coming out of an alleyway that was between him and Sirius.

He ran harder, sprinting.

When he was close enough he aimed his wand. “Desatar,” he hissed and James’s shoelaces came untied and he tripped over them, falling onto the ground just a few steps from where Remus and Sirius stood.

Sirius turned around and laughed, “What’sa matter, Prongs, first day with your new feet?”

Remus turned to help James up and in the moments that took, Regulus darted out of the crowd, ran up to Sirius, touching his shoulder. When Sirius looked ‘round at him in surprise, Regulus said, “I need to talk to you. About James. Right now. Alone. Quick. Please,” and he hurried toward the Leaky Cauldron, just praying that Sirius was following because he didn’t dare to slow down.