Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

“Ah, Miss Black. Such a pleasure to see you, my dear.”

Headmaster Dumbledore sits behind his large mahogany desk, littered with muggle magazines, all flipped to the knitting section. A large bowl of lemon candies sits in front of him. To his left, Fawkes the phoenix ruffles his feathers. To his right, two sharp knitting needles work frantically midair, weaving a mid-sized panel of multicolored fabric into something not yet recognizable.

“Might I interest you in a lemon sherbert?” He asks, gesturing to the bowl in front of him. “They truly are divine.”

Danu politely declines Dumbledore’s offer, taking the empty seat across from him. To her left sits Professor Sprout, to her right is Professor Snape, looking exceptionally irritated. Sandwiched between the two very different people, Danu feels the intensity of them both radiating forward and causing a mild whiplash of emotion. Professor Sprout, always chipper and bright, seems to fade in the wake of Professor Snape’s hatred of…well…everything. In the six years she’s known the man, she’s not once seen him genuinely smile, unless of course, it’s directly after torturing a student. Danu gulps as she shoves her hands between her knees to keep them from shaking, an angles her body closer to that of her favorite professor, Sprout.

Her time around Professor Snape has always been less than pleasant, the man seems to honestly hate her, despite the fact that she’s always done exceptionally well in his class. So well, that she’s one of the only seven students in sixth year to receive and O on his potions O.W.L, and one of the only four to continue potions on to his N.E.W.T program. Her first two years in his class were genuinely hell. Her Ravenclaw classmates managed to attend the same class time as Slytherin, which made pinning them against one another Snape’s favorite hobby. It took nearly three years of her proving herself and losing so much sleep she was actually admitted to the hospital wing for four days to get him to stop accusing her of somehow cheating every single class. It took him catching her sobbing with Professor Sprout midway through her fourth year, after he’d set one of her essays on fire in front of the class and tossing mandrake root in to her cauldron of Calming Drought, causing it to quite literally explode in her face, to get him to ease up on her even slightly. Not that he’s gone soft on her, not in the slightest. He still very much detests her and told her only three days ago in front of the entire class that she wasn’t cut out for his N.E.W.T levels. That should have been enough to make her switch to Muggle Studies, or maybe even Advanced Transfiguration, but she will not let him stop her from reaching her dream of working at St. Mungos, and if she has any chance at all of achieving this dream, she needs this N.E.W.T class.

“I’m sure you’re all wondering why I’ve asked you here today” begins Dumbledore cheerfully. “It is my understanding, Miss Black, that you wish to work for St. Mungos. Is that correct?”

Danu looks up from her lap and catches his blue eyes. Just then, a tingling sensation creeps in to her head, and her brow begins to pound. She swears she catches him raise an eyebrow towards Snape and grin, just before the strange sensation leaves her head.

“Yes Sir, it is. I’ve held an apprenticeship with Professor Sprout since my second year. She’s taught me so much, and I’m incredibly grateful to her.”

The pain in her brow increases tenfold, almost knocking the breath from her lungs. Her face must be contorted in pain, because she can see Dumbledore leaning forward in his seat, as if expecting something. Just as quickly as it comes though, the pain creeps away, and she lets out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. Dumbledore glances over and Snape and smiles out of the corner of his mouth.

“Excellent, excellent. I hear you are an exceptional student Miss Black. Professor Snape here is rather hard on his potions students, and you’ve managed to enter in to his N.E.W.T class! That’s something truly incredible, my dear.”

Danu glaces over at Professor Sprout, and sees her gleaming with pride, almost as if she’s her own parent.

“I have taken the liberty to reach out to St. Mungos on your behalf,” he continues. “They seem quite impressed with you already. They do recommend that you apprentice with Professor Snape for the next two years. Which is precisely why I called you all here today. Severus, my lad, say hello to your new prodigy.”

“Headmaster, surely you do not expect me to babysit this child for the next two years?” Professor Snape audibly exhales and slowly rises from his seat.

“No, Severus,” Dumbledore chuckles. “I expect you to teach this girl what she may not learn in your class. She has proved herself worthy of your expertise, Severus. Let her have this. It isn’t often we have someone as bright as her, someone as eager to learn.”

Snape and Dumbledore begin to argue, with Professor Sprout popping in occasionally to provide input. Danu is too stunned to listen, too stunned to do anything except stare down at her hands in her lap. She doesn’t want to apprentice with Snape! Why couldn’t they have had her do something like grow a Chinese Chomping Cabbage and show them she can pick the cabbages without being injured, or care for a venomous tentacle. Hell, she’d even go down to the Forbidden Forrest and tackle and acromantula!

“Miss Black,” Dumbledore begins, “you may return to your common room. Make your way down to the potions room tomorrow evening at 6, Professor Snape will assist you from there.”

Snape attempts to protest, but Dumbledore only puts one hand up to silence him, and he obeys. Professor Sprout gives her a sympathetic look as she squeezes her shoulder on the way out of the office.

Chapter Text

Chapter Two

Slowly making her way from the seventh floor, down to the fifth, Danu tries to think of any way whatsoever to get out of this apprenticeship with Snape, while keeping the prospects of working at St. Mungos alive. Ever since she stepped foot in Hogwarts at the age of eleven, she knew she couldn’t go back to living a muggle life. She was so terrified that it would all be taken from her if she wasn’t the absolute best, if she didn’t make perfect grades and keep her head down, Dumbledore would come take her from her bed and admit that they’d made a mistake allowing her to come here.

The first class she had when arriving at Hogwarts was herbology, and she loved it from the very moment she stepped inside of that humid greenhouse and caught Professor Sprouts warm smile. After a few weeks, Sprout praised her, told her how natural she was. She made her feel welcome at Hogwarts. By the end of her first year, Sprout told her of the herbology department at St. Mungos, how she had worked there when she was very young, and if Danu was interested, she would teach her everything that she needed to know. She jumped at the idea, and from that day forward, everything that she did was to get the position at St. Mungos.

Danu has never had many friends, not even the time before coming to Hogwarts. Now, she understands that it was because she was different. She never fit in with those kids, at the time, she’d cry herself to sleep because one of them called her a freak. She tried to rationalize the magical “accidents” she would have when scared or upset, she tried her best to be normal, to not stand out.

Growing up being bounced back and forth between foster families, and after starting Hogwarts, being left in a half-way house during the summer months and winter holiday, she knew how to keep her head down. That didn’t keep her from longing to know who her parents were. When she was young, she would dream that they’d come waltzing into whatever home she was in, wrap their arms around her, and exclaim that they had been searching for her for so long. They would bring her home, somewhere that was hers, that she would never have to leave, somewhere where she would feel love and happiness, somewhere that she would be safe. They would tell her it was some strange accident; they had turned their heads for just a moment, and she had wandered off. Or maybe it was some stranger who was jealous of how much they loved her and had taken her from her bed in the dead of night and dumped her in that abandoned parking lot she had been found in at only two years old. Now that she’s gotten older, she’s lost all hope that they’re even still alive.

She remembers fondly the day that Dumbledore came and got her from Bernadette’s Home for Children just outside of Cokeworth. She was so eager for her life to be different; she didn’t even laugh or think him a fool for telling her that she was a witch. She simply took his hand, looking up in to his piercing blue eyes, and smiled. She had no belongings outside of what she wore and was so desperate to get out.

The very next day, Dumbledore sent someone to fetch her, just like he promised he would when she clung to his robes and tearfully asked him to take her with him. That someone happened to be Hagrid, grounds keeper at Hogwarts. He brought her to Gringott’s Bank, where he explained that the Ministry of Magic held funds for underprivileged children to aid them in collecting their school supplies. They collected her limited amount of gold, and he held her tiny, trembling hand as they made their way through Diagon Alley. He told her all about Hogwarts, the friends she would undoubtedly make, and the fun she could have. He described the beats he cared for, the classes she would take, and how kind Dumbledore is. Danu’s little heart leapt from her chest with each word Hagrid spoke.

Six years later, she still visits Hagrid any chance she can get. She sits in his hut with Fang drooling at her feet, while she works on her homework. Hagrid teaches her how to care for the many beasts he finds, and she brings him dittany from the greenhouse for the many wounds he receives from caring for them. She spent many weekends curled up in his massive armchair, a warm cup of tea in her hand, and her schoolbooks piled around her. Hagrid makes her feel safe.

Her feet almost carry her to Hagrid, to have him wrap her up in one of his bear hugs that smell of earth and smoke, to let Fang lean against her leg and lick her hand. But, standing on her toes to peer out of the window outside of the Ravenclaw common room, she gets a clear view of his hut below, he has company. More than likely Harry and his group of friends, plotting their next round of trouble. She tries to stay as far away from them as possible. Being in different houses, and far enough apart in years as to not have any classes together, it’s proved to be rather easy.

Danu is a ghost in the castle, overlooked by most students at this point, and picked last by most professors, it’s easy to creep through the common room to climb the stairs to her bed. After changing in to her night clothes and closing the curtains around her bed, she climbs in to bed knowing that tomorrow will begin a long two years of misery under Snape’s watchful eye.

Chapter Text

Chapter Three

He had seen it the moment he had laid eyes on her during the sorting ceremony, and his heart skipped a beat. He couldn’t take his eyes off of her. Every portion of his brain screamed that it wasn’t her, it couldn’t be her, he held her lifeless body in his arms. Felt how cold her skin was, the weight of her loss coursing through his entire being every single moment of his life for the last seven years. Yet, somehow, mere feet from him, sits a red-haired girl so strikingly like his Lily. His mind transports him back to eleven years old, looking up from the crowd to see Lily in that same seat, with that very hat on her head, and flinching when it yelled, “GRYFFINDOR” loud enough for the entire hall to hear. This girl, this deceiver, this abominable hoax, however, was placed in Ravenclaw.

Not his Lily. Of course, it isn’t Lily, he has to tell himself this every single time he sees the impostor.

Upon closer inspection her first day in his class, he can see the subtle differences. Instead of Lily’s beautiful green almond eyes, hers are blue and wide. The cupid’s bow of her upper lip more pronounced, the tips of her ears more pointed, her hair several shades lighter. This didn’t stop his heart from crushing every time he looked up to see her sitting in the back of his class.

He tried everything her could possibly think of to get her to fail, push her away from him so he didn’t have to see her face every week. The creature still continued to taunt him with her likeness.

When this plan failed, he scoured the forbidden section of the library, sent letters to the Ministry to obtain the documents listing the contents of the Potter home, even going as far as questioning Dumbledore for any morsel of information. Maybe Lily had a time-turner? No, the likeness is there, but not identical. Did Petunia have a child, a daughter perhaps? No, nothing that came out of that woman would ever be as beautiful as Lily, even if she were her sister.

Pacing Dumbledore’s office for the third time this month, he finally graces him with the knowledge he’s undoubtedly had for years. The fucking nerve of this man. Watching him suffer week after week for two goddamn years.

Sirius fucking Black.
She was the bastard offspring of SIRIUS FUCKING BLACK!

Of course, he knew her surname, but it’s common enough! It could have come from anywhere! And Albus choses now to lay it on him? Now, the very eve of coming face to face with James Potter’s insufferable offspring?

Oh, and the girl doesn’t know. Of course, she doesn’t know! Because telling anyone anything would destroy the wizarding world, apparently. Just another secret to keep for Albus! How many more does he have in him? When will he finally tell him that enough is enough?

Three years later, and he’s just as pissed at Albus for this as he was the day he told him the truth. Maybe even more so. On top of looking at Lily’s generic doppleganger every day of his life, he’s yet to find any answers as to how. Now he has to deal with another Potter, Longbottom’s sniveling offspring, know-it-all Granger, and two more fucking Weasley’s who have all managed to join forces to make his life utterly miserable.

Now the real kicker, the proverbial turd in the punchbowl so to speak, Lupin has his job as Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, is buddied up to Potter and his slew of misfits, he’s tasked to brew his god forsaken Wolfsbane, and Sirius has somehow managed to escape from Azkaban. Oh, and let’s not forget, he now has to mentor his child twice a week for the next two years.

Didn’t they make his life hard enough? Hadn’t they caused him enough suffering? Now he’s forced to babysit their kids! The only way he'll ever get answers as to how this child looks like his Lily, will be to somehow track down Black and ask him himself. He would rather die, but not knowing is eating him alive.

Severus finally stops pacing a groove in his own office floor and pops a cinnamon disk in his mouth in hopes of staving off the craving for a clove cigarette for another few hours and runs both hands through his hair. The girl will be here shortly. She’s probably already standing outside of his door, picking at the skin around her thumb nail and looking down at the floor, as if actually looking someone in the eyes when they spoke to her will cause her physical harm.

Coward.

Just like her insufferable father.

Chapter Text

Professor Snape isn’t nearly as terrifying when he’s ignoring you, and that’s precisely what he’s done for the last six weeks. Twice a week he opens the potions door for her, tells her to scrub first year cauldrons and chop various potions ingredients, then leaves. Apparently to terrorize the rest of the castle for a few hours before curfew. He must be absolutely fuming at the thought of having four whole hours a week that he can’t schedule someone detention with himself.

The first week, she wasn’t even sure if she should leave after the two hours were up, since he hadn’t given her explicit instructions to do so, and she’d managed so far to avoid any form of detention with him. Whether by sure dumb luck, or his unfounded hatred toward her. Whichever it may be, she was thankful. This, however, led her to stay in his potions room an additional two hours, ultimately breaking curfew. Once she was positive, he was not coming back that night, she slipped out of the room as quietly as possible, and quickly made her way back to her dormitory. She was almost there, could practically hear the portrait on the back side of the door asking her a riddle. And that’s when Filch grabbed her by the collar and spun her around.

Another stroke of good luck for her that night, Filch has never stopped her before. Not only has she never had a reason to be out after curfew, but Mrs. Norris seems to have taken a liking towards her, making it impossible for Filch to actually punish her for anything. He simply turns her around by the shoulders and pushes her in the direction of the common room entrance, whistling for Mrs. Norris to untangle herself from her ankles and lead him towards their next victim.

Tonight however, is different. Instead of Snape practically running from the room the instant he admits her, he’s cataloging the inventory of the potions room with his back towards her.

“Tell me, Miss Black,” he begins, startling her, “what good is it to have a vast knowledge of potions ingredients, if you do not plan on learning potions?”

Surely, this is a rhetorical question, right? She’s in his N.E.W.T level potions class for god's sake. The only reason either of them are even here to begin with is so that she can learn! He can’t possibly be planning on blaming her for any of this, can he? What is his plan, glide up to Dumbledore’s office and tell him that she is incapable of learning? Well, she’ll just have to follow him there and tell Dumbledore herself that Snape is just simply incapable of teaching her.

Before she can even formulate a response, he whirls around to face her, nothing more than a streak of black hair and robes, looking furious.

“What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?”

“Drought of the Living Dead, sir.” She answers quietly, looking down at the stone floor beneath her feet.

“What potion includes the addition of one pinch of powdered unicorn hair stirred clockwise twice, and two mistletoe berries stirred anticlockwise twice?”

“Antidote to Common Poisons, sir.” Her lips begin to tremble from fear.

She can feel him slinking around her, feel the anger radiating from his core. He smells of cinnamon and cloves, and something undetected. Perhaps an herbal soap of some kind.

“What would happen if my hand just…slipped an ounce of slivered mandrake into a cauldron of Calming Drought before you get the chance to chop more lavender?”

So, this is an attack. He wants her to be scared. She lifts her eyes to him, catching him glaring down at her only feet away.

“It would blow up in my face, sir.” She manages, between gritted teeth. Her hands begin to shake with adrenaline.

“You’ll do well to remember that, Miss Black. You, organize the jars of ingredients on the back wall, quietly. I have quizzes to grade. Afterwards, you will brew another Calming Drought. Successfully this time, might I add. I shall return to check your progress in precisely one hour and forty-five minutes.”

He slams the door to the potions room, leaving her too stunned to move from the very spot she stands.

—

Organizing the potions ingredients may have been boring, but it was easy. That must have been what he was doing when she walked in. Purposely rearranging the glass jars and vials, just to give her busy work to do. In six years of being in this very room, she’s not once seen a single jar out of place, even at the end of a class, as many of the students were too terrified of Snape’s wrath to mess anything up.

The hard part, however, was brewing the Calming Drought. She knew the recipe by heart, didn’t even need to consult her study guide or the potions book he’d left open on the shelf next to the cauldron he’d placed out for her. Her hands shake with each chop, she weighs every ingredient twice for good measure. She is so careful with the heat, ensuring it never reaches a single degree above the recommended temperature. Finally, just as the brew begins to turn its signature brown, Professor Snape walks in the room to assess her progress.

Danu steps away from the cauldron and places her knotted hands behind her back. Snape eyes cauldron with disgust, before whirling around to face her.

“Out.” He sneers, his eyes flaming with fury.

He doesn’t have to tell her twice, she grabs her bag with one hand, nearly spilling the contents within across the cold stone floor and runs back to Ravenclaw Tower.

Chapter Text

Danu sits in the window of Ravenclaw Tower, watching as the snow drifts from the sky, settling in soft mounds along the grounds below. A shutter runs through her, as she realizes that in just a few short moments, she will have to leave the safety and warmth of her perch at the back of the common room and make her way down to the dungeon. It is unnaturally cold down there, as if Snape purposely makes it as uninviting as possible.

It has now been three months since Dumbledore has taken her out from under the wing of Professor Sprout and stuck her with Snape. Instead of leaving the room the moment she enters, he now looms over her shoulder, black eyes watching every move she makes, ready to strike should she make any mistakes. The man still hates her, and she is no closer to figuring out why. Obviously, he hates everyone, he has made that abundantly clear, but he seems to despise her most of all. Unless, of course, you count Harry Potter. She has heard tale that he gets it worse than her. At least she doesn’t seem to find herself in constant trouble or need of saving.

Over the last two weeks, she’s taken to asking him simple questions, most of which remain unanswered. Occasionally, Snape will grunt in affirmation. Being in his presence still terrifies her, even more so when they are alone. She does not believe that he would cause her physical harm, especially knowing that Dumbledore himself tasked Snape with this job. Dumbledore must trust him, or else he would not have a job at Hogwarts at all.
Snape has begun to show her more advanced potions, instructing her on any specialty ingredients she should retrieve from Professor Sprout beforehand. Last week, he tasked her with retrieving more mandrake, and showed her how to stew it. The mandrake was then placed on a shelf high above her reach, to continue stewing for five days, and will be ready to use in tonight’s mystery potion. Based on Snape’s last lecture during Advanced Potions, she believed it to be a Blood-Replenishing Potion.

Danu shivers and wraps her cloak tighter around her body as she enters the potions room. Snape is in his usual spot, a small desk he brought in two weeks ago, angled towards her brewing station as to simultaneously grade essays and watch her like a hawk. Snape glances up at her as she enters and places his quill into his jar of jet-black ink.

“Tonight, you will brew a Blood-Replenishing Potion. Had you paid an ounce of attention during my class, you would have already known that, based solely on the fact that we stewed mandrake our last visit.”

“Yes sir, I figured as much. I took notes.”

Snape only scoffs, following her with his eyes as she makes her way across the room, her cloak still wrapped tightly around her body to offset the intense chill in the room. Her shoulders tremble involuntarily as she feels the goose flesh rise across her arms. Suddenly, Snape stands and stalks towards the door. Perhaps he has grown bored of watching her week after week and has decided to go back to trying to catch Potter and his friends in another scheme.

“Begin.” He commands, leaving the room and slamming the door with a thud.

Danu quickly gets to work lining up her ingredients to the left of her cauldron in the order in which she will need them. For such a complex and important potion, there are few ingredients. She lights the burner beneath her cauldron and pours in 250 ounces of standard potioning water to begin simmering. Just as her hand reaches for the unicorn horn to begin crushing it into a powder in the pestle and mortar to the right of her cauldron, Snape returns carrying two green China teacups on matching saucers. He places one on the counter next to her ingredients, and seats himself back behind his desk with the other.

“You are cold.” He states, busying himself with his quill again. “Drink. Outside of the burner beneath your cauldron, I cannot admit another heat source within this room. The ingredients, while more or less protected, are quite sensitive to temperature fluctuations. I cannot have you spilling unicorn horn throughout the place due to your constant shivering.”

Danu carefully wraps her cold hands around the warmth of the cup. He wouldn’t poison her, would he? The scent wafts throughout the room, enticing her as she brings the cup to her lips, steam billowing around her face. It’s warming effects almost instantly.

“Herbal. Chamomile with cinnamon and ginger. You do not need caffeine this time of night.”

“Thank you, Professor.”

“Get back to work. You have one hour and thirty minutes remaining. Do not waste any of that unicorn horn or I will personally see to it that you work off every remaining ounce of it in detention with Filch.”

Blood-Replenishing Potion, while simple in regard to ingredients, proved to be rather complex to brew. She found herself consulting Snape’s notes more than once to ensure that she had stirred the correct number of times, and more importantly, in the correct direction. The required temperature also became hard to maintain, as the temperature in the room repeatedly dropped the temperature of the liquid within the cauldron. Finally, after what seemed like a lifetime, the concoction within reached its signature blood red color. She could feel Snape’s eyes boring into her from behind, could smell the cinnamon and cloves permeating from his breath and clothing. She moves away from the cauldron, allowing him to step forward to access for work.

Snape begins pouring the potion into vials, stopping as he fills each one to hold it up to the light in order to further inspect it. The light illuminated the many scars on his hands, some of which appeared to be rather deep. She had never noticed them before. Then again, she had never had cause to look.

“You are not as hopeless as I once believed you to be, Miss Black.” The compliment, as well as her name, sounded almost painful on his tongue, as if they bit him on their way out.

“Thank you, Sir.” She responds, meekly, a rush of heat spreading up her neck and across her cheeks at his first ever admission of her talent.

“You are dismissed. Keep this on your person at all times. One can never know for certain when they may require it.” He passes her a small vial of the potion and waves her out of them room.

Chapter Text

Chapter Six

Winter holidays begin tomorrow, and most students will be boarding the Hogwarts Express bright and early tomorrow morning, which means Danu must return to Bernadette’s. If it were up to her, she would remain at Hogwarts for the next two weeks, taking full advantage of a quiet common room and an uninterrupted long, hot bubble bath. Unfortunately, with the castle riddled with Dementors, and Sirius Black still on the loose, all students remaining in the castle must have prior parental permission.

Most students are busy packing their trunks, the procrastinators and overachievers lounge in the common room, chatting about their plans for the holidays and family traditions that they are most excited about. This brings a pang to Danu’s heart. Holidays at Bernadetta’s are always the same; lukewarm hot cocoa in the morning with a breakfast of porridge and toast, cheesy Christmas movies on the tiny television in the recreation room, followed by a sparse Christmas dinner that is usually dry and bland. After dinner everyone gathers round the tiny Christmas tree with colorful lights strung with strands of popcorn, and gifts are passed out. It has been the same gifts the entire time she’s been there, a voucher worth several Muggle pounds donated from a local shop, and a package filled with various sweets, socks, undergarments, and personal hygiene supplies in each person’s size and preference. The smaller children usually receive a single small toy, the older ones will sometimes receive stationary, pens, pencils, and erasers. She has always been incredibly thankful for the gesture. Mostly though, winter holiday is just two weeks of her reading anything that she can get her hands on and hiding from other kids.

Danu grabs her much loved copy of The Hobbit. She found it years ago in a cupboard at Bernadette’s, and no one had missed it. The pages are dog-eared and yellowed, the cover peeling, the spine cracked beyond repair, and pages have become unglued, forcing her to wrap a rubber band around the width of the book when not in use to keep the pages intact. She knows that she should throw it out one day, but for now, she holds on to it as if it were a family Bible. Her first taste of magic, if even from a Muggles perspective. She wraps a blue throw around her shoulders and makes her way down to the dining hall. Even though it is after meal hours, the house elves keep the tables piled high with fresh fruit, muffins, scones, and piping hot tea and cocoa.

A small group of second year students pass her on her way into the great hall, undoubtably grabbing a hot cocoa to warm up after playing in the snow. The room is dimly lit with candles, the ceiling enchanted to match the weather outside, making one feel as if they could stick out their tongues and catch a snowflake between bites of food. This has always been her favorite aspect of Hogwarts. The dining hall has been decorated for the holidays for weeks. More than a dozen Christmas trees stand tall and proud throughout the room, garland and greenery on every surface of the room. Danu parks herself in her usual spot at Ravenclaw table, placing her well-loved book next to her, and pours herself a large steaming cup of Earle Grey tea before busying herself with plucking grapes from vine in the center of the table.

“I do believe, Miss Black, that it may be time to put this book, if you can call it that, out of its misery.” His voice caused her to jerk and drop the blanket from her shoulders onto the bench beneath her. She didn’t even hear him come in, much less sneak up on her enough to grab the book that was mere inches from her arm. She looks up at him, a black blob in the dim candlelight. He’s holding her book at arm’s length, turning it over in his large hands as if willing it to tell him how it has survived as long as it has.

“Follow me.” He demands. “Leave the tea. I do not want you spilling it throughout the castle. The elves have done enough today.” He turns and begins to leave, still holding her book, before she can answer. She wraps herself in her blanket and has to jog to catch up to him.

Snape makes his way to the dungeon, his long stride making it difficult for her to fully catch up to him. The lower they descend into the castle, the colder the air around them becomes. She pulls the blanket tighter around her shoulders, thankful to have it with her. Snape unlocks the door to his office with his wand, flicking his wrist to wordlessly light the candles in the room as he strides through. He slams her book down onto the table, dropping pages as it lands. He must have taken the rubber band off of it in the dining hall as he inspected it.

“Sit.” He commands, gesturing towards the chair across from his desk. She obeys, and he leaves the room through the door behind his desk that she has always assumed to be his private study. Danu sits patiently, picking the skin around her thumbnail as she waits.

Snape returns a few moments later, carrying the same China teacups he’s brought her before. She recognizes the smell immediately, chamomile with cinnamon and ginger, and a hint of honey for sweetness. He places one before her, then reaches beneath his arm, producing a blood red hardcover book. He hands her the book, then takes his seat behind his desk, eying her copy of The Hobbit before him.

The two sit in comfortable silence for several moments, sipping their tea. Danu runs her hands over the smooth cover of the book he handed to her.

Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier.

Danu finishes her tea while running her fingers along the soft pages of the book. Snape clears his throat, and she looks up to him. The candlelight flickered in his eyes, making them look as if they were engulfed in flame.

“I have many books in my personal collection which you may find interesting. Although Hogwarts possesses a rather impressive library, I find it rather…..lacking for leisure.”

“I have read almost every book in Ravenclaw library. I have yet to tackle the main library, outside of my schoolwork, of course. Thank you, Professor.”

“You are dismissed.” Danu stands to make her leave, afraid to ask for her book back. His hands rest possessively over top of it, as if shielding it from the flames of the candles.

“Miss Black,” he begins, “leave this with me.” He lifts his hands, gesturing towards the book beneath them. “I do hope I find my book in the same condition upon its return.”

“I can’t say the same for mine, Sir.” The corner of Snape’s lip lifts in a smirk, sending a flush of red to her cheeks.

Chapter Text

Chapter Seven

Danu sits cross-legged on the paper thin mattress of the borrowed bed she has been sleeping on for the last five nights. She has been up for hours, quietly reading the book Snape loaned her by the soft glow of sunrise shining through the window next to her bed. She has always found it difficult to sleep here, even before she was made aware of her magical abilities.

While used to sharing a sleeping quarter with others, she is unused to the sound around her and lack of privacy while she slept. At Hogwarts, she could pull the curtains around her bed, and the girls sharing the room with her had always been courteous enough to place the Quieting Charm around themselves in case of snoring, or in last night’s case, excessive nocturnal farting from the girl two beds over.

On her third day back at Bernadette’s, she was somehow volunteered to help the smaller children with crafts. They had laid out large buckets of colorful modeling clay, paints that had once been vibrant but were now browned and murky from repeated use, tubs filled with every type of bead one could imagine, and large spools of thin faux leather cords, clear elastic, and hemp twine. While she was forced to keep her wand and schoolbooks locked in the headmistress’s office per Dumbledore’s recommendation, she kept the vile of Blood-Replenishing Potion tucked safely in the pocket of her cardigan, remembering Snapes recommendation to keep it on her person at all times. She can feel the weight of the vial slap gently across her thigh with each step she takes. While helping a small girl make a beaded bracelet, she has an idea.

Danu slips a tube of glue and long strip of faux leather cord into her pocket while no one is looking and excuses herself to the restroom. Stopping momentarily on her way out to pluck a single ornament off of the Christmas tree just outside of the recreation room. Once safely inside of the restroom, she pries the silver cap from the top of the ornament and shoves the rest of it deep into the garbage can. Once she has bent the silver cap to fit around the bottom of the blood-red vial in her pocket, she removes it and adds a generous dollop of glue before fitting it back in to place around the vial. Next, she slips the leather cord through the ornament topper, and ties a knot around the end, making sure the cord is long enough to slip over her head, and hangs down low enough to be hidden beneath her clothes.

Today is Christmas. Soon, the dozen children remaining at Bernadette’s for the holiday will be awake, eager to see what magic Santa left for them this year. She often feels pity for the other children, and something like guilt, knowing that magic is real and having the ability to give them an actual Christmas “miracle” but being unable to. If only she could use her wand, levitate the ornaments on to the tree, turn a child’s hair red and green to match the decorations, inflate another's stuffed toy, then they would be able to experience real magic and have a Christmas that they will never forget.

The day is dreary, a cold rain falls, bringing a chill to her body despite the fact that the room is warm. Danu grips her mug of cocoa tighter, as if willing it to warm. She has yet to figure out just how they manage to always serve the cocoa lukewarm, perhaps it’s to save them all from burning their tongues. From the tiny televisions set, Tiny Tim delivers his final lines of, “God bless us, everyone.” Danu yawns and stretches in her seat, the small child asleep with his head on her lap stirs and follows suit. The lights come back on in the room and they all rub their eyes at the intrusion. Caregivers swarm the room, passing out small packages wrapped in brightly colored paper, envelopes of bright red and green, and candy canes of every color.

Danu smiles warmly at the woman with blond hair handing her a pile of gifts, almost wishing she had something to give her in return. She notices a package on the bottom of her meager pile wrapped unlike any of the others in the room and realizes that she has one gift too many. She turns the brown paper over in her hands, searching for the name of its sender on the paper. There is only her own name, written in tight, neat letters in jet-black ink. She carefully breaks the seal of the package to reveal a hardcover special edition copy of The Hobbit.

Upon opening the book to run her fingers over the title page, a tiny scrap of parchment falls out onto her lap.
“It was time to put it out of its misery” was all it read. She smiled to herself, knowing immediately who it was from.

Monday morning, all of the children link hands and make their way four blocks to a small shop that gifts them all vouchers each Christmas. This year, each child received 15 pounds to buy anything they wished from the store. The younger children, already having filled every page of their coloring books opted for new ones, some of them opting to purchase dolls that undoubtably would be missing shoes before the end of the day. Danu takes her time though, analyzing each useful thing inside. She decides on a new pencil sharpener for herself, the novelty of using nothing more than a quill day after day wore off long ago. Just when she thought her next purchase would be a copy of a heavily published romance book, her eyes landed on a silver tin of orange spice tea. Noticing that the main ingredients listed are cinnamon and clove, both of which Snape smells heavily of. She wonders whether or not he would like it. He did get her a gift; it would be rude not to return the favor.

After much thought and deliberation, Danu decides to purchase the silver tin of tea, along with two separate types of cinnamon candy, unsure which he would like best. She has seen him discreetly pop cinnamon disks into his mouth when he thought she wasn’t looking. After purchasing the items for Snape, she barely had enough money remaining to purchase her pencil sharpener.

She stays up late that night, carefully wrapping each of his gifts in leftover paper she smuggled out of a supply closed, and reading the last few pages of Rebecca, making note of topics to discuss with Snape upon her return. The weight of the Blood-Replenishing Potion warm against her bare skin, she fiddles with it through the thin fabric of her shirt. She no longer feels anxious in his presence, in fact, she realizes that she is almost excited to see him again.

Chapter Text

He has given up being outwardly cruel to the girl, but that does not mean he likes her. Of course, he has never disliked her. Only her appearances, and well, if he is being honest, the fact that she belongs to Black. The later, becoming increasingly harder to deny the longer he is in her presence.

It is the shape of her eyes. When she was younger, when he first discovered that Sirius Black was her father, he did not see the resemblance. Now that she has gotten older, her face has filled out and lost most of its childlike fullness, the similarities are more pronounced. The day he had her brew a Calming Drought, the way she looked at him, it took all he had to keep himself from striking her.

Severus still saw Lily. Oh, so much of her was Lily. Her smile, the cheekbones. Occasionally, even her voice. It drew him in like a magnet. The worst part, the knife to the heart, was when he saw her shortly after seeing Potter. Lily’s almond shaped green eyes that he saw on Potters face day after day would morph on to Blacks face in his mind, knocking the breath from his lungs. His mind tortured him relentlessly.

Lupin and Potter are up to something, he can feel it in his bones. He knows that mischievous look they both get all too well. Every time he gets close to figuring out just what it is that they are up to, the other pops up to deter him.

Lupin must know who the girl’s mother is, he has to. All the time he spent with Black, Potter, and even Lily. He can’t, for the life of him, bring himself to ask. He can’t give Lupin the satisfaction of seeing him desperate. He will simply have to figure this out on his own, since Albus insists on being no help to him. Speaking of which, he is no closer to finding out where Black is than he was months ago when he escaped.

The girl seems to be kind, much kinder than her conceited father. He has found himself watching her, sometimes without even realizing it. Just before winter holidays, he took a stroll down to the dining hall to make sure none of the students coming in from the snow were causing a ruckus. There she was, pouring herself a cup of tea. He watched her for a few moments before approaching. She was focused on a bunch of grapes in the center of the table, she didn’t even hear him approach. Next to her sat a ratty, deteriorating copy of The Hobbit. Of course, he read the book as a child, but he has yet to figure out just why Muggles are so obsessed with it. The summer he met Lily, the two of them spread out beneath a large tree in the park and read it together. Lily’s magic was still unstable back then, and she would rain leaves down on the two of them when she read the parts the scared her. The thought of that still brought a smile to his lips.

Against his better judgment, he invited the girl to his office. Next thing he knew, he was bringing her a copy of one of his own books, even questioning whether or not she would enjoy it as much as Lily had. Had Lily not been obsessed with it that summer before sixth year, he never would have read it.

Lily found the book in a secondhand shop in Cokeworth and carried it around everywhere. Every conversation they had that summer somehow circled back to it. At the time, he was so tired of hearing about the damn thing. It wasn’t until after that final fight between the two of them that he found the book himself and read it. Severus found himself being sucked into it, unable to put it down, just as she had been. He longed to send her an owl, or even show up on Evans’ lawn and throw pebbles at her window, just to discuss it with her. Why hadn’t he just read the damned thing when she asked him to? They always traded books before that, why did he have to be so damned stubborn?

Sitting up late into the night, head bent over her copy of the book with his wand in hand, trying desperately to save the damn thing, he finally admits defeat and places it in the top drawer of his desk. Reaching the top shelf of his personal bookcase, he grabs his copy of The Hobbit. It seems only fitting that the girl should have it, he knows he will never read it again. He has had this book longer than she has been alive. Tomorrow, he will wrap his own copy and send it to the home she stays at to open on Christmas morning.

—

“What do you believe the main plot of the book to be, if not dishonesty?” The girl shocked him when she disagreed with him. He was so unused to anyone, especially her, challenging him on anything.

“Well,” she begins, placing the silver dagger she had been using to slice slugs back on the table and turning to him. “Jealousy for one. Also, insecurity and obsession. Of course, there is plenty of dishonesty, but I don’t believe that to be the main plot of the story. I believe that would be jealousy.”

Severus simply grunts in response and motions for her to continue working. The two of them work together in silence for another hour, before she finally speaks.

“Sir, is there any way to find my parents, even if they were Muggles?” Her voice is so low he almost doesn’t hear her.

“Why?” His hands begin to clench beneath the desk. No way can she have any form of relationship with Black.

“I just want to know if they are alive. That’s all.”

“Why would it matter if they were alive? They left you to rot in an orphanage for fifteen years. Clearly, they do not care about you.”

Severus can hear the gasp that escaped her lips at this, and she drops the knife on the stone countertop. From behind, he can see her shoulders quiver from the sobs wracking her body. Maybe he had been too harsh with his statement, but it was true. Clearly, Black and whatever Lily look-a-like he impregnated did not care for her.

“I have had quite enough of sniveling children today. Get out.”
She was gone, and Severus was kicking himself for ruining what had been a pleasant evening. If only she had remained silent, he would have brought her another book.

Hours later, when Severus finally emerged from the dungeon to begin his midnight rounds, he nearly steps on a package outside of his door. Opening it with his wand, afraid it may contain another Weasley prank, he finds a silver tin of tea and two packages of cinnamon candies. A scrap of paper taped to the tin of tea with neat cursive reads,

Thank you for the book, sir.

Now he really feels guilty.

Chapter Text

Sirius Black had been spotted in the castle. The portrait of the Fat Lady was slashed, and rumors fly about the castle that a student’s bed was ripped to shreds by him inside of the Gryffindor common room. Security is tighter than ever, leaving the atmosphere around Hogwarts dark and uninviting. Students travel in packs more so than before, and Snape personally fetches Danu twice a week and walks her down to the dungeon for their private lessons.

Most students seem to believe that Black escaping is a sure sign that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named will return. Danu had never been particularly afraid of him before; she never had a reason to. She didn’t grow up in the wizarding world, she had no idea what the aftermath of his reign was like. She only heard the stories, saw the children in the castle who, like her, had no parents. To her, he was a scary story, a tall tale concocted to scare children into behaving. Of course, she knew he was real at one point, but there was no way he could return. Harry Potter, if only an infant at the time, defeated him when his curse backfired. Even Dumbledore believed this to be true.

Now, the possibility of his return seemed real. If Sirius Black were one of his supporters, if he could turn on his own best friend and have him murdered, what else would he be willing to do for him?

Danu heard the stories that Snape was a Death-Eater. She did not believe them to be true. If he were, wouldn’t he have been on trial like the rest of the supporters? Not to mention, Dumbledore would never let him in the castle if he were. Of course, Snape favored the Slytherin students, but Flitwick favored his Ravenclaws, and that didn’t make him a bad person. No, there was just simply no way that Snape was, or had ever been a Death-Eater. After a long night of crying, she had forgiven Snape for telling her that her parents did not care about her. She knew, of course, that he must be right in his accusation. If they were indeed alive, they had made no effort to locate her. This did not stop her from wondering about them, though.

Summer was fast approaching, and the thought of leaving Hogwarts for the last summer before her final year made Danu’s stomach turn. Every year she became depressed as the last few months of the school year flew by, but this year was even harder on her. She knew that as soon as the summer ended and she was back at Hogwarts in September, the school year would go by faster than ever. Then, she would need to quickly produce a plan on where to go and what to do afterwards. She had a very promising future at St. Mungo’s, but what would she do until then? She had no job, no money, and nowhere to go. She had seen what happened to the people who aged out of Bernadette’s, they left broken and terrified with no one and nothing. The thought of it terrified her.

On the edge of the park, just out of reach of the Womping Willows branches, grows wild bitter root. Professor Sprout showed her where to find it during her second year. Here Danu sits, spade in hand, digging the valuable roots out to deliver to Snape for tonight’s potion. They will be brewing Burning Bitter Root Balm to bring to Madam Pomfrey. Apparently one of the Weasley twins’ pranks backfired and she is in dire need of replenishment.

Making her way down to the dungeon after filling her foraging basket to the brim, Danu feels rather proud of herself. Not only has she managed to collect more bitter roots than she had anticipated, but she had also found vervain and wormwood close by. She had noticed that Snape was getting rather low on both of these plants in his stores. It was still too early for her lesson with Snape, but she planned to drop the basket of herbs off with him then make her way up to the dining hall to grab dinner before returning to the dungeon. Lost in thought, she doesn’t hear the group of students approaching from behind until she feels a sharp push on her left shoulder, and the basket falls from the crook of her elbow spilling its contents throughout the passageway.

“Might want to watch where you’re going, Mudblood.” The culprit spits the words at her as he goes out of his way to stomp on the plants that had fallen from her basket as he passes her.

His group of friends follow suit, laughing as if he had just told the joke of the century. She had never been called a Mudblood before, in fact, she had never actually heard the word at all. Being still ignorant of most wizarding slang, and spending most of her time alone, she could only imagine what it actually meant. Obviously, the word was vile, saved only for the persons you truly despise.

Danu quickly collects her fallen herbs, taking care to put the more damaged plants in the bottom of the basket. She knocks quickly at Snape’s door, and it opens for her.

“Yes?” He asks, not taking his eyes off of the stack of parchment on he’s busy grading.

“I collected some herbs for you, sir.”

Snape stands, and slowly stalks towards her. She can only imagine what she looks like right now. Sunburn blooms across the bridge of her nose, her hair sticking to her sweaty face, dirt beneath her fingernails and more than likely smeared across her cheek from brushing her hair off of her face. Maybe she should have showered before going to the dining hall, instead of dripping the herbs off here. Then she wouldn’t have encountered the Slytherin students who had knocked the basket from her arms, and most of her hard work wouldn’t be ruined.

“Did you collect these herbs Ms. Black, or did you simply torture them into your basket?” He raises one brow at her as he dumps the contents of the basket on to the table before him.

“I’m sorry, sir. I had a bit of an accident just down the hall. I believe I can salvage some of it. The rest, I can go back out tomorrow afternoon and collect more.”

Snape simply grumbles and begins busying himself with separating the different herbs into piles, Danu approaches the desk with the intention of helping him, when someone bursts through the door without knocking. That someone happened to be the boy who knocked into her, just outside of the door stands his posse.
“What do you need, Mr. Malfoy?” Snape doesn’t look up at him, he must have been expecting him.

Malfoy struts around the room picking things up at random, just to place them in a different spot once he’s finished. The very act annoying even her, Snape must be fuming inside.

“Well, I was only wondering if you could give us permission to use the Quidditch field for practice this Saturday. Gryffindor had it last weekend, it’s only fair we should have it this weekend. We are coming to the end of the season, and I will not lose to them again.”

“I shall put the request in at dinner. I will have an answer for you by tomorrow.”

“Excellent. I will write Father. He won’t want to miss the final game.” Malfoy turns towards the door and stops; he looks towards Danu and smirks.

“Ah. Such a shame your lovely flowers were squashed.” With that, he slams the door.

Danu scoffs in disgust at his exit and continues sorting through the herbs.

“Problem, Ms. Black?”

“Yes, actually. Mr. Malfoy is the accident I had down the hall.”

Snape doesn’t respond. His hands are busy snapping the ends off of the most damaged pieces of wormwood and inspecting the bitter root for bruising.
“Sir, what is a Mudblood?” Snape’s hands stop instantly, his eyes slowly lift up to her in surprise.

“Where did you hear that?”

“Malfoy. He called me a Mudblood. I have never heard that word before.”

“I shall speak with Mr. Malfoy about his choice of words.” Snape says, between grit teeth. He brings his eyes back down to his hands and continues working.

“No!” She blurts out too quickly, causing Snape to lift his head towards her. “I mean, no sir. You don’t have to do that. I was only curious; I know it isn’t a nice term. Well, I figured as much anyway, by the way he said it.”

Snape turns his attention once again towards the plants. Just when she thinks he has abandoned their conversation, he clears his throat.

“It is a term given to people who are not pure blood. And you are correct in your assumption that it is not a nice word.”

Chapter Text

Danu jerks from her sleep, drenched in sweat with her hair plastered on her face and neck. She does not remember her dream, only the screaming within it. Her heart races and her hands tremble and she tugs the blanket tighter around her body. Nightmares are nothing new to her, she has had them as long as she can remember. She never seems to remember what they are about, only her heart racing after she’s jolted awake.

In fact, even in her waking moments, she rarely remembers anything at all from her past. She taught herself many years ago, as a very small child, how to build a wall in her brain to block out and forget any unsavory feelings or memories. It is her own theory that this wall she has created is what helps her forget the dreams, even in her sleep. Of course, she has no way to fully evaluate this theory, as her brain is a mystery even to herself most days.

Today is Saturday, the first weekend in June, and the first day it has not rained in over two weeks. Danu is beginning to get cabin fever. She wanted to visit Professor Sprout, or perhaps Hagrid. But, Sprout is busy with fifth year O.W.Ls, and Hagrid is to go with McGonagall to take a group of students who failed their apparition exam down to Hogsmeade for a refresher course with the instructor before their make-up exam. Danu wished desperately to take the courses, but she did not have the required 12 Gallons and does not turn seventeen for another few weeks. With any luck, she can save a bit of her ministry gold and take the course next year.

Danu quickly dresses and places the newest book Snape loaned her into her foraging basket and makes her way down to the great hall. Once there, she loads her basket with a few bottles of pumpkin juice, muffins wrapped in waxed paper, and several pieces of fruit from the center of the table. She quickly drinks cup of tea, then slips out before anyone even notices that she was there.

The morning sun warms her to her core as she spreads out beneath a large elm tree on the edge of the Black Lake. She has spread her small feast before her and lays on her stomach in the shade of the tree practicing her non-verbal magic. While first through sixth years are required to use their wands, seventh years must practice non-verbal magic at all times, especially during Charms and Transfiguration. Other students, especially the ones from wizarding families, are at an advantage. They can practice all summer long, Danu on the other hand, cannot. She must perfect this before school lets out in just a few short weeks.

Her biggest issue, she just can’t seem to do it, no matter how hard she tries. The most she has been able to do is levitate a teacup a few inches off of a table and light a candle across the room. On the other hand, the other students her age are having full on duels non-verbally. All she wanted to do was turn the damned pumpkin juice bottle into a dragonfly, like she had seen sixth years do every single morning for half of the year. No matter how hard she concentrated and scrunched up her face, she simply could not do it. The most she had been able to achieve was to give the bottle tiny wings.

“What is your wand made of?”

She had been so concentrated on the bottle before her that she didn’t even notice anyone come up to her. The figure before her blocking the sun was none other than Professor Snape. He seemed to pop up wherever she was more these days.

“Holly, Sir. With unicorn hair core.” Danu pulls herself up off of her stomach and sits on her knees before him.

“Hmm. Holly is quite loyal and protective to its owner, pair that with unicorn, which is exceptionally faithful and attached to the owner, the problem does not lie with your wand as I previously believed.” Snape stands tall and straight before her with his hands behind his back.

She can’t see the expression on his face due to the sun behind him, but she can imagine it is an emotionless as ever. Without a word, or even producing his wand, Snape turns the bottle into the dragonfly that she had tried to produce for the better part of an hour. They watch as the dragonfly zooms between them and lands on a leaf floating on the water of the Black Lake.

“Everyone makes it look so easy. I’ve tried all year and can never do it.” Snape says nothing as he looks down at her. “How will I ever pass my N.E.W.T next year if I can’t even turn a stupid bottle in to a dragonfly?”

“Start smaller.” Snape turns to walk away, his black cloak swirling in the dirt around his feet as he does.

“Can you help me?” Snape stops in his tracks and turns his head towards her.

“I am not, the last I checked, a professor of Charms or Transfiguration.” Snape sends over his shoulder as he stalks away in a billow of black cloaks.

—

The next several days passed with a blur, and Danu resigned herself to the knowledge that she would simply never be able to do non-verbal magic. Even “starting smaller” as Snape had so helpfully suggested, did no good. All she had managed to do was given an apple a tail in an attempt to turn it into a mouse, and even that small feat took her hours to accomplish.

As she walks into Snape’s office that Tuesday night for their private meeting, she finds him standing in her usual workstation with an extra copper cauldron next to her pewter cauldron. Next to the extra cauldron lies two pairs of dragon-hide gloves and a large bundle of Aconite. Snape stands with his back towards her, grabbing ingredients from the shelves to the front of him. She notices the snake fangs that are already in his hand, and the billywig stings he grabs next.

“Will we be brewing Wideye Potion tonight, Sir?” she asks, as she places her bag on the stool closest to her and reaches for a pair of gloves.

“You will be brewing Wideye Potion. I have my own potion to brew tonight.”

Glancing around the room, she notices that Snape has already begun brewing his potion, the ingredients sit in varying degree of preparation. The black quicksilver already pulverized, pickled myrrh laid out and ready to be slivered, and the giant moonwort freshly sliced, the only ingredient remaining was the stewed aconite.

“Wolfsbane Potion?” She asks politely as she makes her way around the room to stand next to Snape.

“You are correct.” Snape slips the additional pair of gloves onto his large hands and grabs a small bundle of the aconite; he gestures to her to grab the remaining bundle for her own potion.

Knowing that she will not need to add the aconite to her potion for 23 hours, she places her small bundle on a silver try and pushes it to the back of their workstation to remain safely out of the way.

The two of them work in comfortable silence for majority of the evening. Danu’s potion bubbles lazily next to her, all she has to do now is clean up her ingredients and come back the following night to finish the potion. She stops to examine Snape for a moment; he is not as bad looking as everyone makes him out to be. She, of course, believed him to be completely vile both inside and out when he made her life hell. Now though, that he seems to be indifferent towards her, he is not the dungeon monster that he is often compared to behind his back. His hair, while seemingly greasy, actually is not. It is sleek and pitch black, giving it the impression of being greasy by candlelight. His skin, while very pale, was not sallow at all. In the correct light, it was actually under-toned in pink and had the tiniest of freckles across the bridge of his nose. The sallow appearance, again, being tricks of the candlelight. Admittedly, his nose remained large and aquiline in nature no matter the light. That is not to say that it was unfortunate, or even unattractive, it fit his face in a sort of way that no other shape would. Snape continues working in silence, his hands moving gracefully as they reach for each ingredient. He seemed to be comfortable, at peace with his work.

“The wolfsbane potion is for Professor Lupin, isn’t it?” She catches a small smirk from the corner of Snape’s mouth.

“Some people might take offense to that, Ms. Black.” Snape waves his wand over his cauldron and turns to her, a mischievous look in his eye.

“I meant no offense, Sir.”

“None taken.” He laughs. “How, may I ask, did you come to that conclusion?”

“It is pretty obvious, if one pays attention.” Snape raises his brows at her. “Well, for starters, you bring him potions regularly. You taught third years about werewolves when you stood in for him, during the week of a full moon. His Boggart took the form of a full moon when he taught Riddikulus. And last, but certainly not least, he cancels class the morning after every full moon.”

“I must admit, Ms. Black, you are far brighter than I gave you credit for.” Danu blushes at his compliment and looks down at the floor. “Are you not afraid?”

“Not necessarily. You brew his potion, obviously. Dumbledore would not allow him around hundreds of children if he believed there to be a threat, would he? Plus, I haven’t seen an influx of werewolf children each month.” She meant this last part to be a joke.

“Professor Dumbledore allows a lot, Ms. Black.” Snape says, with a sigh as he turns back to his cauldron.

Chapter Text

A little over a week remains of the school year. Danu leaves her last Transfiguration class of the year, where once again, she’s reminded of how utterly awful she is at non-verbal magic. Passing though the Transfiguration courtyard, she overhears a group of students talking about Hagrid and slows down.

“Buckbeak lost,” Said a boy with red hair, presumably another Weasley, “Hagrid’s just sent this.”

The girl standing next to him reads a scrap of parchment aloud.

Lost appeal. They’re going to execute at sunset. Nothing you can do. Don’t come down. I don’t want you to see it. Hagrid

The two of them take off running towards the entrance of the castle, and Danu stands glued to the spot, unable to move. Hagrid never told her that Buckbeak was in trouble. She was there the night he brought Buckbeak to the castle, saw the way Hagrid’s face lit up every time he saw Buckbeak. She knew, of course, what had happened between Buckbeak and the git Malfoy. Her heart sank, not just for Buckbeak, but for herself as well. Hagrid was so close to her, she always felt so safe and warm in his hut, now he felt like a stranger.

Suddenly, she realizes that she had been to Hagrid’s only twice this year, he quickly hurried her off as he was expecting company. She had been so busy since then, she hadn’t had a chance to see him at all. Her feet instinctively carry her to him, she must comfort him. Hagrid’s heart is so soft and full of love for everyone and everything he comes in to contact with, she can’t let him suffer alone.

Coming to the top of the hill, overlooking the patch of giant pumpkins Hagrid grows, she sees Buckbeak tethered to a post out front of the hut. The Weasley boy, the curly headed girl who read the note, and Harry Potter run past her towards Hagrid’s. Dumbledore suddenly appears in the doorway and makes to leave, Hagrid spots Harry and his friends and waves them in before quickly closing the door behind Dumbledore. Danu turns and makes her way back the way she came. Thankful that Hagrid is not alone when he’s undoubtedly heartbroken but saddened that he hadn’t even noticed her standing just feet behind the running children.

Before she knows it, her feet have carried her to the edge of the Black Lake. She sits beneath the same tree Snape had found her at when he turned her pumpkin juice bottle into a dragonfly. Danu leans her back against the tree and sighs, careful not to let any of the stray students scurrying about the lake catch her wipe the tears from her eyes with the sleeve of her cloak.

Danu sits beneath the tree for what feels like hours. It’s nearing sunset, and her stomach twists in knots for Hagrid and Buckbeak. She lifts her head to the sky and lets out a deep breath. Just then, through the branches of the trees, a sea of black streak across the sky from behind the clouds. All of the Dementors are retreating. Could that mean that they have found Sirius Black?

She stands and follows the streak of Dementors with her eyes as the sun sets lower in the sky. In the distance, atop a hill on the outskirts of Hogsmeade, she spots it.

The Shrieking Shack.
The answer to the question that’s been plaguing her for weeks.
She decided at once that she would not return to Bernadette’s this summer.

Danu sprints back to the castle to start preparing. This won’t be an easy feat, but she suspects, with how easily she can move without being detected, that she can pull it off.

—

It is a common misconception that the Shrieking Shack is haunted. Danu happened to know that it wasn’t. Professor Sprout, and Hagrid after she pressed for further information during her second year, told her all about it. Professor Sprout showed her how to still the Womping Willow by remaining low and pressing a knot on the trunk of the tree. Once paralyzed, a small opening would appear low on the trunk. Professor Sprout would tell her no more, but she happened to catch Hagrid after a few bottles of Daisy Root Draught, and he told her all about the Shrieking Shack and how it’s only bewitched to appear haunted. Lucky for her, he also told her how all of the doors and windows are false, and the only way to enter the shack is from beneath the Womping Willow. She could kiss Hagrid for that right now!

First, she leaves a note on her bed one morning asking the elves that clean the rooms if they could leave her a spare blanket. She claims she’s been getting cold at night. Next, discreetly collects the empty pumpkin juice bottles from the Ravenclaw table and slips them into her bag when no one is looking. She will fill these with water. On top of the empty bottles, she gathers several full ones as well, knowing that she will want the occasional pumpkin juice. Several bags of tea fill her pockets every time she leaves the table.

Collecting food proves to be rather difficult, she must collect food that will last awhile without spoiling. She collects as many apples and bananas as she can, the apples should last her a few weeks as long as she keeps them in a dark place, she will eat the bananas first. Pastries and bread are also a staple, as long as she can keep them from molding or becoming stale. Protein is out of the question, as it will spoil and rot quickly. After a week or so, she will be able to leave the shack to collect berries that grow around the Womping Willow.

Finally, after securing what she believes to be enough food, she places an extending charm on her backpack a cross-body bag and packs all of her belongings into both. The trunk at the foot of her bed receives a weigh charm, as she will ditch this on the train.

—

After what feels like an eternity, the day finally arrives. Gossip from other students confirm what she believed to be true a week ago, Sirius Black was spotted elsewhere, far from Hogwarts, and the Ministry would no longer be patrolling the area. Danu’s hands shake as she slips from her bed early that morning and heads to the great hall before anyone else to grab some last minute food. She grabs several more Danishes, pumpkin pasties, muffins, scones, and sweet bread. She carefully wraps them all in napkins and puts them in her bag, along with six more apples and four bananas.

Danu’s stomach knots with nerves as she makes her way out of the castle and towards the Womping Willow. After a quick look around, she crouches down and rushes towards the tree to press the knob on the trunk. The tree freezes immediately, and she lunges into the hole, headfirst.

After a short slide downwards, Danu comes to an abrupt halt at the bottom of an incline. She glances back just as the entrance she had just came through closes and she loses all light within the tight tunnel. She pulls her wand from the side pocket of her backpack and whispers Lumos; the end of her wand produces a bright, white light. She had just enough room to crouch, but slowly made her way forward. She had never been in the tunnel before and had no idea how long it was. After what felt like an eternity, she finally reached a bend at the end of the tunnel and could see the soft glow of sunlight from the other side. Danu extinguishes her wand and follows the bend around; she crouches once more and finds herself in what appeared to be a bedroom. She sneezes as she enters, and dust whirls around her head. Someone has been here recently. Footsteps in the dust a debris circle the room, as if someone were pacing. The graying wallpaper falls in strips towards the floor, the windows are poorly boarded up and emitting soft streams of sunlight from the cracks, and the furniture is all smashed up. The old mattress on the floor is shredded, feathers fill the room in large heaps.

Carefully, she steps in the footsteps on the floor to not give herself away should whomever was here come back. Carefully, she opens the bedroom door and makes her way down the hall. Danu has no way of knowing just how many bedrooms the shack has, but she knows that she cannot use the one with the entrance, in case someone comes in. Making her way down the hall, she takes a peek into each room and makes an inventory. Once on the ground floor, she decides this will be the safest place for her. Far enough away from the entrance, but able to hear and hide from anyone who should come.

After several hours, and several passes of Tergeo around the room she had chosen as hers for the next two months, Danu is rather satisfied. She chose what was intended to be a study as her own. Not only was it the cleanest room, but there was also a library full of books, a fireplace, several leather chairs, and a window to look out of. She pulled the only intact mattress from a closet on the second floor, blasted it with Scourgify, and placed it beneath the window in the study.

—

One month in, and Danu has finished all of her summer work. This feat would have been done in haste on the way to and from London on the train had she gone to Bernadette’s. She spends her days practicing non-verbal magic without fear of being caught, as her seventeenth birthday came after just a week in to being in the shack. Her non-verbal magic has gotten much better, but still not anywhere near as good as it needs to be. There have been a few scares, times when he was woken up from a dead sleep convinced that someone was moving around the shack. One night in particular, she hid in the closet attached to the study all night. The next morning, she went up to the bedroom with the entrance and saw no fresh footprints in the dust. Satisfied that no one had been there, she went back to her room for an apple and another round of trying to turn a bottle into a dragonfly.

—

One month and one week in, Danu lays on her stomach reading a weathered potions book she found on the bookshelf. The book is outdated for the most part, but there are a few potions she would be interested in discussing with Professor Snape. Just then, she hears a creak outside the closed study door and lifts her head towards it with her wand in hand, ready to flee if necessary. Suddenly, the study door flies open.

There, in the doorway, stands Professor Snape. Dust floats around his form, furry fills his eyes and she’s too stunned to speak, much less move.

“You.” He sneers at her. “I knew you were up to something.”

Danu opens her mouth to respond, but no sound comes out. Snape quickly closes the gap between the two of them and points his wand at her. It feels as if a thousand knives are in her skull. She knows what he’s doing. She knows he’s attempting to occlude her. She read about it in her Defense Against the Dark Arts book while drafting an essay shortly after her meeting with Dumbledore at the beginning of the year. It is why her head hurt so badly in Dumbledore’s office that day. Dumbledore tried to do the same thing to her, but why?

She expected images to flash through her mind, instead, it felt as if she had ran full speed into a tree on a broom. She looks up at Snape, his features as shocked as hers undoubtedly were. Snape grabs her by the wrist and drags her through the room without a word.

Chapter Text

Severus knew that Potter Junior and Lupin were up to something all year, he just couldn’t pin anything on them definitively. That is, until, he showed up at Lupin’s door with his damn Wolfsbane Potion and the dunderhead wasn’t even there. He knew what missing even a single potion meant!

Lucky for him though, Lupin just so happened to leave his precious map open on his desk. Severus followed the footprints of Potter, Granger, Weasley, Lupin, and surprisingly, Pettigrew and Black. The footprints led him to the Shrieking Shack. At the base of the Womping Willow lies Potters infamous cloak, he throws the cloak over himself, presses the knot on the tree’s trunk, and crawls through the entrance that emerges at the base.

Severus’ mind flashes to the last time he was in the Shack and his hands begin to tremble. Eighteen years ago, Sirius tricked him in to going down this very tunnel to follow Lupin. If it hadn’t been for the first Potter, Severus would have encountered Lupin in his werewolf form, and that would have been the end of him. After bringing this to Dumbledore’s attention, the events of the night were somehow flipped around on him, and Dumbledore actually had the gall to say that he was indebted to Potter! Even Lily sided with the prick. After everything that Potter had done to him, everything that Lily had witnessed, she still chose Potter. Severus has never stopped himself from believing that she would still be alive today had she just chose him instead.

Severus takes one final gulp to settle the adrenaline building in the pit of his stomach and pushes through. Coming to the bend in the tunnel, he hears the commotion above. He’s finally got them!

Stepping into the entrance room, the scene fills him with dread. Footprints circle the dust in the floor, furniture smashed in pieces, what once was a mattress lies in heaps of feathers throughout the room. For a moment, he fears he may be too late, Lupin has already turned and devoured them all. Just then, movement upstairs causes dust to spurt through the floorboards. He sneezes. Someone hears him, they’re screaming. He can’t make out the words, they’re too jumbled. He moves quickly, careful not to lose his footing on the debris scattering the room.

Finally, he reaches the room above and surveys the scene before him beneath the safety of the invisibility cloak. Lupin, Potter, and Black have their wands pointed at one another, each screaming to be heard above the other. Weasley lies on an old mattress clutching that disgusting rat, Granger stands before him ready to strike should anyone come any closer. For some reason, there is also a cat. A very ugly cat.

Severus flings the cloak off and throws it in the corner of the room, all eyes are on him now. He doesn’t quite recall the next few moments, only shouting. He feels giddy, slightly annoyed, and triumphant.

“YOU’RE PATHETIC!” Shouts Potter. “JUST BECAUSE THEY MADE A FOOL OF YOU AT SCHOOL YOU WON’T EVEN LISTEN-“

“SILENCE! I WILL NOT BE SPOKEN TO LIKE THAT!” Severus feels his face redden at the effort to yell louder than Potter. “Like father, like son, Potter! I have just saved your neck; you should be thanking me on bended knee! You would have been well served if he’d killed you! You’d have died like your father, too arrogant to believe you might be mistaken in Black-“ he turns towards Black now, directing the next part of his rant to him. “At least one of your children has an ounce of sense to them!” Black looks at him dumbfounded.

“Now, get out of the way, or I will make you.” Potter makes no movement, only stares at him defiantly. “GET OUT OF THE WAY, POTTER!”

Severus doesn’t see it coming, he was too focused on Potter and Black. Granger and Weasley simultaneously cast Expelliarmus. His body lifted from the ground, his head cracks against the door frame. He feels his head throb, the room begins to spin. His vision and hearing go blurry. Blood begins to trickle down his face from the impact, then nothing.

—

One by one, his senses return to him. First comes his hearing, fuzzy and far away sounding at first, then entirely too loud. He lifts his hands to covers his ears and feels the bandage wrapped around the entirety of his head. Next comes his vision, it’s too blurry to make anything out. After blinking a few times, it has returned to him in full force. Much like the hearing, the sight is too much. He attempts to sit up, to extinguish the candle flame next to him, but everything aches. He lies back down with a sigh.

How long was he unconscious? Where was he? Certainly not the Shrieking Shack still. He can smell the medicinal stench of a hospital setting. How did he get here?

Severus opens his eyes again and studies his surroundings. Of course, the Hospital Wing. Just as he tries to sit up again, Albus comes sauntering behind his curtain.

“Severus. You’re awake. How delightful.” Albus sticks his head behind the curtain and shouts, too loudly, for Madam Pomphrey, then makes himself comfortable in the chair next to his bed. Pomphrey arrives only seconds after Albus shouted for her. The woman truly is a saint.

Madam Pomphrey passes him two stout bottles of potions, he can’t place them in his groggy condition, but he trusts her with his life, and besides, he brewed these potions himself. He tosses each back without complaint but has to pause midway through the second bottle to force himself not to gag at the thickness and taste of it. Pomphrey takes the bottles back from him and makes to leave.

“Why can’t they all be as obedient as you, Severus?”

Obedient. Ha. If only she knew.

“Sirius Black is on the grounds, he-“

“I know, I know.” Albus leans back in the chair and watches him with interest.

“You know, yet, here you are.”

“Don’t tell me you still hold a schoolboy grudge, Severus.”

“It is not a grudge!” Severus shouts too loudly, immediately regretting it as his head begins to throb.

“I have taken care of it. You mustn’t worry.”

“You let them go, didn’t you?” He could feel it in his gut. Albus would risk a thousand lives for Potter.

“You don’t know the full story Severus.”

“Then enlighten me, Albus.”

Albus went on to explain to him what they both already knew. Pettigrew is the one who gave the Potters to Voldemort only hours after becoming their Secret Keeper. He was there the night Pettigrew burst into Malfoy Manner and claimed to know where the Potters were at, knew how to get past the charms and blocks. Severus went immediately to Dumbledore, told him everything that Pettigrew had said. It did no good. Voldemort was at the Potters the same time he was at Hogwarts begging Dumbledore to just fucking help him. He just wanted Black to pay, just as he had. Thirteen years in Azkaban for allowing that fucking rat be the reason Lily was murdered. A kiss from a Dementor would just be icing on the cake.

Albus let Black free. Gave him a fucking hippogriff to ride off into the sunset. Here he was, stuck in a hospital bed dry heaving from the pain radiating throughout his body. He has got to find a way for these potions to take effect sooner.

—

Weeks pass and he can’t shake the feeling that Black is still near. Black has no money, no home, and is a wanted criminal with a price on his head. Where would he go?

The Shrieking Shack. That’s exactly where he would go. Close enough to Albus to remain safe, far enough from wandering eyes to be caught. Severus goes every night at midnight and waits just inside the entrance on the second floor bedroom, that way he’s the first thing Black sees when he shows up.

Two weeks pass, just sitting in the room night after night, willing Black to show. Then, it hits him. Black could already be in the house. It’s possible he never actually left, and that’s why the prints in the dust have not been disturbed, he’s avoiding the main entrance.

Severus waits until daylight to return to the Shack as to not have to use his wand for light. Slowly, he makes his way out of the room, careful not to let the boards beneath his feet creak. Casting Muffliato once at the top of the stairs to ensure his silence, he finally sees the disturbances in the dust on the floor. Someone has dragged something through here. Following the drag marks on the floor, they lead him to a door on the main floor. Carefully, he turns the knob and flings the door open.

There lies Black. Only, not the one he was hoping to find. She stares up at him with those eyes that are so strikingly like her fathers that he must resist cursing her.

“You. I knew you were up to something.” He actually didn’t, but he should have.

Like father, like daughter.

Severus closes the gap between the two and forces all of his strength in to Legilimency. Nothing. Not a single thing. His brain rattles within his skull as he hits a wall inside her mind. He grabs the girl’s wrist, noticing just how small it is, and drags her to the castle. Once inside, he leads her to his office. Black stammers apologize the entire way, at least she has manners. He practically tosses her into a seat in his office, and the girl quiets immediately. At his desk he drafts a letter to Albus, snaps his fingers for an elf who takes it to the Owlery without question, and waits.

“Why?” he asks her, she looks up at him with a puzzled expression but does not answer. “Must I dumb it down for you? Why do you believe that the rules do not apply to you?”

“I-I…I just-“

“Today, Miss Black!” The girl flinches at his outburst, he runs his hands over his face in an attempt to calm himself.

“I just couldn’t go back there, Sir.” Her words come out in almost a whisper.

Outside, the sun has long since set. Severus paces a groove in his office floor waiting for Dumbledore. He has not spoken a word to the girl in hours, he could bring her a book or a cup of tea, but why should be reward her misbehaving?

Finally, around two in the morning, the girl falls asleep with her head resting on her arms that are crossed on his desk. She looks uncomfortable, but there is no alternative. Remembering how cold she gets, he removes his outer cloak and places it around her shoulders, he watches as she burrows against the warmth. A strand of her hair falls across her forehead a gently moves up and down against her mouth as she breathes. He must resist the urge to reach out and tuck it behind her ear as he would with Lily when she fell asleep in the library after a long day of studying.

Severus watches as the sun begins to rise when Albus finally waltzes into his office, a smile on his face.

“Oh! There she is!” he says, clasping his hands in front of him.

“What do you mean, ‘there she is’?” Severus asks impatiently as he casts Muffliato.

“Well, Miss Black here never got on the train this summer. I had wondered where she got off to. You say you found her in the Shrieking Shack?”

“She has been missing all summer and you never thought to tell me?” It takes all he has to keep himself from grabbing Dumbledore by his cloak and shake some sense in to him.

“Don’t tell me you’ve grown to care for the girl, Severus.”

Severus scoffs at this and brings a black pack of clove cigarettes from his robe pocket. He shakes the pack and brings it to his lips, pulling out a single one and putting the pack back in his pocket. Albus leans forward and lights it for him. He slowly exhales and closes his eyes before rubbing them with the hand that holds the cigarette.

“There may come a time, Severus, where you must protect her.”

“Has it ever crossed your mind that I am tired, Albus?”

“He will return. Soon.” Severus scoffs at this, but he knows it to be true. He can feel the throb in his forearm, see the way the mark has darkens when he places his wand to it. He is already returning.

“She’s just like her father.” Severus mutters, glancing over at the still sleeping girl on his desk.

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“Her mother, then?” This makes Albus chuckle. It wasn’t a joke. “Who is her mother?”

“I do not know, Severus.”

“Do not give me that, Albus.”

“I spoke with Sirius regarding her.”

“And?”

“When she is ready, we will tell her.”

“She has already asked me who her parents are. Am I to continue lying to her then?”

“When the time is right, she will know.”

“I can’t use Legilimency on her. I tried, in the Shack. Nothing.” Severus shakes his head at this, still confused.

“I know. I had my suspicions, so I tried myself. I suspect it is why she has had such trouble with non-verbal magic this last year.”

“And you said nothing?”

“As I said, Severus, there may be a time when you must protect this girl. He will be interested in her when he finds out.”

“When he finds out.”

“Precisely. When. Now, take the girl to Hogsmeade. I’ll send an owl to the Three Broomsticks. She’ll have a room there for the remainder of the summer. I will arrange for her belongings to be sent there by the time you arrive. I think we can have the Knight Bus collect her in a few weeks for her trip to Diagon Alley. Don’t you?”

Severus does not answer, instead, he watches as Albus strides next to Black and pears down at her sleeping peacefully on his desk.

“As I have stated before, do not think that I do not see the resemblance. Do not let it be the reason why you help this girl. She is not Lily, Severus.” He knows that she isn’t Lily, Albus didn’t have to say it. He’s reminded of it each and every day.

Severus extinguishes his cigarette in the ashtray he keeps just behind his desk, Albus releases the Muffliato charm and places his hand on the girls shoulder. She stirs calmly, then jolts to her feet when she sees Dumbledore standing beside her. She immediately begins stammers; Dumbledore simply raises his hands to stop her.

“Follow Professor Snape to Hogsmeade, my dear. Your belongings will be there when you arrive.” Just like that, Albus is gone.

Danu looks back at Severus sheepishly, he simply walks right past her and out of the door. He can hear her struggle to keep up with his stride as they make their way out of the castle and across the grounds. It’s a silent walk to Hogsmeade, but a beautiful morning. Just as Albus said, there is a room above the Three Broomsticks for the girl. Her belongings arrived five minutes before they did.

“I will be checking every evening that you are here. Do not wander off.”

“Yes sir.”

“In two weeks, you will catch the Knight Bus and collect your supplies from Diagon Alley. I will ensure you are in this room by nightfall. Is that understood?”

“Yes Sir.”

Severus turns to leave; the girl grabs his sleeve to stop him.

“I’m sorry I disappointed you, Professor.”

“You are only sorry that you were caught.”

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Danu stands on the cobblestone walkway just outside of The Three Broomsticks waiting for Snape to arrive, he told her the night before to be ready by four in the evening, so she came out fifteen minutes early. The day is intensely hot and humid, and she regrets choosing the heat of the day to embark on this mission. When the two of them set the time, her reasoning was that everyone would have already done their shopping and left for the day. The sun beams down and warms the exposed skin on her shoulders, she looks down at her shoes and kicks a small pebble with her toe. She giggles to herself when she realizes the skin on her legs is almost as pale as the white sun dress she decided to wear today. Lifting her head towards the sky to feel the suns beam on her face, she hears footsteps on the cobblestone to her left. Turning her head towards the steps, she catches sight of Professor Snape. As he gets closer, she can feel the heat radiating off of his long black robes. How has he not died of heat stroke out here? Instead, he looks as put together as always, the only indication of his discomfort is a small bead of sweat emerging from his temple, which he blots away quickly with an emerald green handkerchief he pulls from the pocket of his robe.

“Your punctuality is appreciated, Miss Black.” Snape states, flatly as he glances down at her through his curtains of dark hair.

“It is very hot today. At least you don’t have to spend your evening walking around Diagon Alley.”

“You insisted on the time, Miss Black, you have only yourself to blame.” True, but he did not need to rub it in. The idea seemed reasonable, at the time.

She watches as Snape pulls his wand from his left sleeve and stares down at her expectedly, she reaches into the canvas bag on her shoulder and produces her own.

“Have you ever ridden the Knight Bus, Miss Black?”

“I have not.” She hoped the bus at least had air conditioning, as she was sweating profusely from simply standing.

“I must warn you; it is rather….nauseating.”

“Does it stink?” Danu asks, trying to come up with any other reason as to why a bus could be nauseating, Snape looks down at her with his eyebrows raised, the corner of his mouth lifting into a tight smirk.

“Raise your wand hand straight above your head. The bus will arrive within moments.” He ignores her question, still smirking down at her.

“That’s all?” Part of her expects the bus to materialize instantly in the street as she raises her right arm high above her head. When it does not, she glances nervously up and down the street, convinced she must have done something wrong, or Snape was teasing her.

“That is all, it takes a few moments to arrive. When you have completed your shopping, do the same. The bus will collect you and bring you back here. Your fair has already been paid. You will be back here by nightfall, no exceptions.” Snape reaches into the pocket of his robe opposite the one that held the handkerchief and produces a brown envelope.

He passes her the envelope, and she recognizes it immediately, her Hogwarts supply list. Snape turns from her and makes his way down the cobblestone path from which he came. Danu opens the envelope and reads through her required supplies.

-The Standard Book of Spells, grade 7 by Miranda Goshawk (Required for all)
-Advanced Potion-Making, grade 7 by Libatius Borage (If taking N.E.W.T level Potions)
-Advanced Transfiguration, grade 7 by Emeric Switch (If taking N.E.W.T level Transfiguration)
-Advanced Rune Translation, grade 7 by Yuri Blishen (If taking N.E.W.T level Study of Ancient Runes)
-Deadly Curses and Counter-Curses (If taking N.E.W.T level Defense Against the Dark Arts
-Identifying False Medicinal Herbs (If taking N.E.W.T level Herbology)
-Dress robes (For wizards)
-Formal gown (For witches)
-12 Galleons (If interested in Apparition sign-up)

Danu runs the numbers through her head for a moment, she usually gets 300 Galleons from the Ministry of Magic to purchase her school supplies. Having done the math before, she knows this comes out to approximately seventy-five Muggle Pounds. Outside of the single required book, she will only need to purchase Potions and Herbology books. Second-Hand Bookshop next to Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlour should have them for only a few Galleons each, if one didn’t mind a few torn pages and crudely drawn images in the margins. As she begins to wonder why she is required to purchase a formal gown this year when she has never had to before, the Knight Bus finally comes barreling down the cobblestone street. Danu jumps back and flattens herself against the cools stone of The Three Broomsticks, she closes her eyes tightly and covers her head with her arms, terrified that the driver of the bus will mow her down. She braces herself for impact, wishing desperately that she could apparate.

"Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard just stick out your wand hand, step on board, and we can take you anywhere you want to go. My name is Stan Shunpike, and I will be your conductor this eve— What you doin’ pressed against the wall like that?”

A man with a thick Cockney accent barks down at her. Danu removes her arms from her head and looks up, a wiry figure with large ears and greasy mop water hair hangs from the opened door of the deep purple bus. He’s wearing an ill-fitting two piece uniform precisely the same color as the bus, albeit more stained.

Stan does not wait for an answer as he sticks his hand out for her to climb aboard. She takes his sweaty hand and heaves herself up. She has an odd, nervous feeling in his presence and is thankful to see other passengers on the bus as she follows Stan down the aisle to her seat. The bus is stifling hot and reeks of vomit and stale body odor. Danu is seated towards the middle of the bus, across from a wizard with an absurdly runny nose, and behind a witch with two screaming children. The seat shifts sharply as she takes her seat. Before she even has a chance to compose herself, the bus lurches forward at such a high rate of speed that the seat in front of her slams against her shins and pins her to her seat. She cries out for a moment but is unheard over the sound of the crying children in front of her. Using the entirety of her strength, she’s able to push the set forward and off of herself, her legs immediately begin to throb from the impact. The relief is short lived, as a sharp jolt causes her own seat to lurch forward. Thankfully, she is able to see this coming and quickly pulls her feet into the seat and hugs her knees to her chest.

Despite wearing a knee length dress, she has no care in the world if anyone sees her undergarments as she hugs her knees tightly. The only care she has is not having her legs broken by the drivers insane driving. Danu pushes her body weight back against her own seat and closes her eyes tightly in a desperate effort to stave off the intense nausea from the ride. That’s why Snape had said what he did about it being nauseating; at least he warned her. If she survives this, she will kill him for putting her on this deathtrap.

An hour later, the bus finally comes to a screeching halt.

“DIAGON ALLEY!” Stan screams their destination; several people stand and try to locate their belongings in the confusion of the bus floor. Danu stands and sprints towards the exit, she may have knocked over an old lady but can’t be certain. Leaping off of the platform she takes a deep breath and vomits into a shrub.

Danu takes a moment to compose herself and makes her way down the packed streets towards Gringott’s. Her idea of coming later in the day in hopes of it being less crowded proved to be a horrible idea. The streets are packed with irritated parents and whining children, most shops have lines out the door and wrapped around the building. Including Gringott’s. Danu finally makes her way there, hoping this to be the quickest part of her journey, and is immediately let down. No less than a hundred people stand single file out of the main doors of the bank. Danu sighs and files in behind the waiting line, resigning herself to her fate. The sun beats down on them, sweat trickles down her neck and back, the leather cord holding the Blood-Replenishing Potion bottle that she wears daily feels slick and slimy against her bare skin.

Two hours pass by the time she finally finds herself standing on tiptoes in front of a goblin teller. The inside of the bank is at least cool and refreshing, hours in the sun have left her weak and tired, she can already feel the sunburn blooming across her shoulders.

“Name.” A goblin peers down at her accusingly from his perch high above the counter.

“Danu Black.” Her mouth feels as if it’s filled with cotton and her tongue sticks to the roof of her mouth.

“Wand.”

Danu reaches into her bag ad produces her wand, the goblin levitates it from her hand and into his own, he examines it a moment, then checks a floating roll of parchment to the left of his chair. Signing deeply, he slides from the chair high above her and lands with a soft pat on the marble floor before rummaging through a drawer behind the counter. After a few seconds, the top of the goblins head appears just above the edge of the counter, he slides a leather drawstring bag and her wand across to her, then climbs back on to his perch.

Leaving the cool interior of Gringott’s and stepping out into the excruciating heat almost knocks Danu to her knees. Down the street, she spots a vendor advertising every flavor frozen drinks, and her feet carry her there without a second though. Danu purchases a cherry frozen drink and a glass bottle of the coldest water she has ever tasted. She chugs both drinks under the awning of Scribbulus Writing Instruments before walking six shops down to Second-Hand Bookshop.

Four and a half hours have passed since Snape put her on the bus, and she still has yet to get the final item on her list, a formal dress. She waited over an hour inside Second-Hand Bookshop while the shopkeeper tried to locate a copy of The Standard Book of Spells for year seven. No matter how many times they shouted Accio, the book refused to come to them. The shopkeeper, who never introduced himself, couldn’t have been much older than her, insisted that they had at least a dozen copies of it available. This left her manually checking each and every stack of books towards the front of the store while maneuvering crowds of impatient parents. Finally, she spots a copy under the leg of a round table next to the entrance to the shop. She makes no move to help when the table topples at the removal of the book.

Second-Hand Robes is located diagonally from Second-Hand Books, this is where Danu has purchased her robes each year. Within moments of being inside, she has found three outer robes and four skirts in her size. There were several formal dresses along the racks, but all a bit too outdated for her taste. Just when she is about to admit defeat, a bit of lace catches her eye. Pulling it out from behind a dusty velvet something-or-other, she prays the garment fits her so that she can get out of here already.

Danu takes the dress across the room and holds it up to her body in front of a full length mirror. The dress in question is deep royal blue, with a lace bodice that drops into a low V on the front and back, the lace extends into delicate long sleeves, the skirt portion is a creamy silk that feels cool to the touch. She can’t help but to twirl with the dress pressed against the front of her body, feeling the long skirt swirl around her ankles, imagining what it will feel like against her bare skin. Just then, a small frail witch with cotton like hair pokes her head around a rack of used shoes.

“Alterations for only 3 Galleon more.” The witch had deep Irish accent that Danu wasn’t expecting from someone so small.

Danu accepts the alteration and slips the dress on to her body in a back room, then stands on a small tufted stool in front of a row of floor length mirrors as the witch worked around her. Measuring tapes and silver pins wiz around her as the witch pulls and clinches the cool creamy silk around her hips and legs. The dress, while more or less fitting, needed several inches from the bottom, and a few inches taken in from the breasts to keep her from flashing everyone any time she moved.

“Beautiful, simply stunning!” The witch steps back from her and takes her elbow to help her down from the stool.

Danu turns and finally gets a full view of herself in the mirror, the dress truly was gorgeous. Whomever owned it before donating it took excellent care of it, there were no holes, rips, or stains that usually accompany second-hand clothing. Even the smell of the dress seemed elegant. It did not fit in a place like this.

After thanking the old witch profusely and paying for her robes, skirts, and formal dress, Danu makes her way to the top of Diagon Alley from which she was dropped off hours ago. The sun hangs low in the sky, threatening nightfall. Danu stands next to the shrub she vomited into hours ago and lifts her wand arm high into the air and waits.

And waits.
And waits.

Twenty minutes pass, then thirty. Moths and mosquitos buzz around the streetlamps, people file out of shops as the owners lock the doors and turn the signs to closed. It is officially nightfall, and she should already be back at The Three Broomsticks. She looks around, hoping to find any place that is open at this hour. Her heart beats fast, afraid of the wrath Snape will inflict upon her late arrival.

The Leaky Cauldron is the only place on the entire street that remains open. She can hear the commotion from the street and briefly wonders whether or not she should actually go in. Logic finally wins, and she pushes her way through the doors. Inside, there is hardly any standing room, Danu pushes her way towards the bar and catches the eye of the barkeep who asks for her wand to prove her age.

“May I use your Floo?” Danu screams above the noise

“Where to?”

“The Three Broomsticks; Hogsmeade.”

“No can do, they close the Floo to Hogsmeade down this time a year before the school year starts. Can’t have students wandering off whenever they go to Hogsmeade.”
Several patrons seated nearby get a laugh at this, then break off into stories of their Hogwarts days mischief. The barkeep reaches below the bar and pulls out a scrap of parchment and pre-inked quill and motions for her to come behind the bar.

“Eight Sickles and you can use the owl.” He motions with his thumb towards a small brown barn owl sitting on a perch between bottles of alcohol.

Knight Bus never showed.
Hogsmeade Floo closed.
Can’t get back.
Waiting outside of The Leaky Cauldron.
-Danu Black

Danu lays eight Sickles on the bar, holds out her arm for the owl, and shoves her way back out into the night. Placing the parchment in the owls waiting beak, she tells it to go find Professor Snape.

The night is cool, Danu sits on the ground and leans against The Leaky Cauldron waiting on Snape to come save her. Her hands shake as she tries to imagine how furious he will be at her. A dark figure swoops in front of her and clutches on to her wrist, dragging her to her feet. She struggles against the hand clasped tightly on to her, and attempts to scream, but no sound comes out. The figured whirls around to face her.

Snape.

“You can’t just grab people like that in the dark!” She tries to shout, but finds herself panting as her heart tries to slow in her chest,

“You silly girl!” His face is inches from her own, she can feel his breath on her face with each word. “Sitting outside a pub, alone, in the dark! Any number of things could have happened to you! Do use the brain that I know you possess!”

He jabs a thick finger into her temple and pulls her back against his chest, gripping both of her wrists tightly in one hand, his wand in the other.

Should she feel awkward at the closeness? She never has the chance to determine that, because the world turns black and begins to spin and whirl around her. The breath is sucked from her lungs, every part of her body felt as if it was being tugged and tightened in rope, her eyes push deep into her skull, and her eardrums feel as if they may explode.

As quickly as it started, it is over. Her feet feel firm on the ground, she leans her head against something firm, it stings her sun-burnt shoulders, she can feel a little bumpbump bumpbump against her skull. Her wrists are released, and she’s pushed forward gently. Her legs turn to jelly and threaten to buckle beneath her, something strong grabs her beneath the armpits. She staggers forward and vomits violently without warning. Vision returns to her, and she whirls around to find Snape behind her, pinching the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger.

“You truly are quite dramatic, Miss Black.” He sounds exhausted.

They are back in Hogsmeade, standing out front of a packed Three Broomsticks. She just apparated for the first time. People chant a song inside; she can’t make out the words. Her head pounds, a combination of heat, dehydration, apparition, and now chanting. Snape grabs her shoulder, she jerks slightly and makes a hissing sound due to the pain, he lifts his hand, examines the burn, and motions for her to follow him into the building.

Once safely back in her room, she falls back on to the bed and drops her canvass bag containing her shopping on to the floor, not caring that Snape was there, glaring down at her. He isn’t as angry as she had been anticipating him being. Just then, her stomach growls loudly and she realizes she has not eaten since the morning. Snape sighs and leaves the room; she listens as he makes his way down the stairs and hears the door slam above the sounds coming from the pub below.

Danu stays lying on her back like a starfish for several moments, willing herself to move. Her legs ache from the bus seat crashing into them, her skin burns from the sun, and her head pounds from the heat. The door opens softly, and she pushes herself up onto her elbows.

Snape.

One hand holds a jar of cream, presumably Burn Balm, the other, a plate piled high with roast chicken, potatoes, and green beans. Under his arm is a bottle of pumpkin juice that she prays is ice cold. He passes each item to her, as she whispers her thanks. Snape lingers in the open doorway and leans against the door frame with his arms crossed against his chest, watching as she applies the cream to her sun blistered shoulders.

“What happened to your legs?” He nods down at her angrily bruised shins.

“Found out why you told me the Knight Bus was nauseating.” This causes the corner of his mouth to lift as if he’s trying not to laugh, she hears something clink against his teeth. Probably a cinnamon disk.

“Why are formal robes on the list this year?” She asks, suddenly remembering the dress she bought.

“I do not know, Miss Black.” His hand is on the doorknob, and he slowly begins backing out of the doorway. “Eat, drink some water, and go to sleep.”

Snape closes the door gently; she hears as he lock it behind him with his own key before treading down the stairs.

Chapter Text

As the final day of summer break fades to an end, Danu sits on the edge of her borrowed bed and looks around the small room she has called home for the last month. This has been the first time in her short life that she has had a room of her own, she will miss it. There is still a quarter of an hour before it is official nightfall, a little over an hour before Snape arrives to ensure she is in her chambers. Danu decides to go for a final walk around Hogsmeade.

On the first day of her Hogsmeade stay, Snape had warned her not to wander off, and she took it quite literally. It was nearly two weeks before she could muster up the courage to ask him if she could go for walks; he stared at her like she had two heads, then laughed as he told her that he did not care what she did, as long as she was in that room by the time he arrived.

Danu’s feet carry her to her usual evening spot; a small garden behind The Three Broomsticks. Large pots of culinary herbs litter the area, desperate for upkeep. Lilac shrubs grow large and out of control, having been weeks since their final bloom of the year, their secret beauty is now a mystery to the untrained eye. English lavender pops up sporadically, their deep purple heads reaching her hip. Danu closes her eyes and lifts her head to the setting sun and places her hands just above the heads of the lavender, letting the strong evening breeze flutter the plants oils against her palms. A rustling pulls her from her tranquility, a tiny scream causes her to drop to her hands and knees and begin carefully separating the low hanging branches of the lilac shrub. She spots the intruder cowering close to the trunk of the shrub and reaches for it; it hisses and swats at her hand but is too slow. She wraps her fingers around the tiny kittens midsection and gently lifts it from the ground, she hugs it to her chest and sits down in the dirt as the little creature trembles and screams.

Danu looks around, hoping the mother is close by, but sees nothing. She clutches the screeching fuzz ball closer to her chest and looks down at it. The kitten is black with huge paws and long downy fur that sticks up in every direction, giving it the appearance of a cartoon cat that was struck by lightning. It’s little tail a quivering numb on its otherwise chubby body, she flips him over quickly to catch a glimpse, a boy. As she shushes him and rubs the pad of her thumb between the kittens eyes, he begins to quiet down.

“Where is your mommy, little guy?” No answer.

“Did you get lost? I’ll take care of you, don’t worry.” She loses track of how long she sits in the dirt, stroking the kittens soft head. A strong breeze blows through the garden, wafting the scent of lavender with it, the faint scent of cloves follows.

“Put the cat down, Miss Black.” Danu jumps slightly at the intrusion but has grown used to Snape sneaking up on her. Snape stares down at her in the dirt, he offers her his hand, and she takes it, pulling herself up to her feet, the kitten still clutched to her chest.

“But, he’s all alone.”

“I am sure it is quite capable of being on its own. Put it down.”

“Can’t I keep it?” She asks, looking down at the little kitten cupped in her hands.

“No, Miss Black, you cannot keep it.” Snape pinches the bridge of his nose and shakes his head as if she has just said the most ridiculous thing he has ever heard.

“Why? You are allowed cats at Hogwarts.”

“You are hardly in any position to care for a cat, the thing is probably lousy with fleas, and who knows what else. Besides, its mother is likely searching for it.”

Snape stands straight and proud, towering over her, as if using every bit of his intimidation power to force her to put the cat down, but she stays strong.

“I can get rid of fleas, plus, his mother isn’t around.”

“It is likely someone’s pet then. Put. It. Down.”

“If it were someone’s pet, they would be out here searching for it. I haven’t seen or heard anyone.”

“Why must you insist on being difficult?” She is beginning to wear him down; she can feel it.

Before Snape can stop her, she turns from him and practically sprints around the building and to the front of The Three Broomsticks, she rushes through the door with Snape hot on her heels. A few patrons linger at tables near the back of the pub, the place has been quieter with school starting back soon. She spots Madam Rosmerta behind the bar, and rushes towards her before Snape gets to her first.

“Madam Rosmerta!” She says, a little too loudly, all heads turn towards her. “Is this your kitten?” She thrusts the tiny body towards the landlady, who takes it from her hands with a smile.

“No, Mis Black, it is not.”

“Can I keep it in my room, just for the night? Please?” Madam Rosmerta ponders for a moment, glancing between her and an amused looking Snape, and finally relents, passing the tiny, hissing kitten back to her waiting hands.

Danu thanks her and rushes up the stairs, the thud of Snape’s boots right behind her. In her room, she places the kitten on the bed and drops to her knees in the floor, resting her chin on the bed, she wiggles her fingers on the mattress for the kitten to pounce on and bat with his tiny paws.

“Proud of yourself, Miss Black?” Snape asks, looming over her, scowling.

Danu grins up at him and nods her head. Snape whirls around and slams the door hard enough to rattle the empty Firewhisky bottle on the bedside table.

Danu gives the kitten a bath with her shampoo in the bathroom sink, all while the little creature scratches her with the force of a lion. Snape was right, there were fleas, they sink to the bottom of the dingy water as she pulls the kittens dripping body from it. She dries the cat quickly with her wand and places him on the floor to explore, while trying out a number of names for the little beast, none of them fitting. He makes a beeline for her formal dress hanging on the back of the bathroom door, it’s long skirt barely skimming the ground obviously the perfect toy in the cats mind. Danu tucks the bottom of the dress into the hanger to keep away from the cat and lays on her stomach on the bed with her latest borrowed book in front of her, Bram Stoker’s Dracula. Before long, the kitten begins to whine, she brings it up on the bed with her, he quickly snuggles in under her neck and falls asleep.

The door to her room opens, and Snape stands in the doorway with a box under his arm. She pushes herself up on to her elbows while still lying on her stomach as he places the box on to the foot on the bed. The kitten stretches, then curls back up into a ball against her chest. Snape stares down at the sleeping cat suspiciously as she tips the box towards her to look inside without waking the kitten. Inside is several cans of wet kitten food, a small silver bowl, a vial which she knew to be flea repellent, and a toy mouse.

“Have you named the filthy thing?” Snape asks, leaning against the door frame.
Danu thinks for a moment, glancing down at the cat, and it hits her.

“Bram.”

“Bram? As in, Bram Stoker?” Snape stalks forward and plucks the opened book from the bed, reading aloud where she had left off.

“That I may die now, either by my own hand or that of another, before the greater evil is entirely wrought. I know, and you know, that were I once dead you could and would set free my mortal spirit, even as you did my poor Lucy’s. Were death, or the fear of death, the only thing that stood in the way I would not shrink to die here, now, amidst the friends that love me. But death is not all. I cannot believe that to die in such a case, when there is hope before us and a bitter task to be done, is Gods will. Therefore, I, on my part, give up the certainty of eternal rest, and go out in to the dark where may the blackest things that the world and netherworld holds!” Snape slams the book shut and tosses it on to the bed before returning to his post in the doorway.

“Touching.” He mutters, dryly.

“Well, you’re the one who brought it to me.” She finds herself matching his dry humor and sarcasm more often these days, whether it be boredom or a desire to see just how far she can push him. It has not escaped her notice that he treats her differently than he is known to treat others.

“How much do I owe you for this?” She gestures towards the box of cat supplies, Snape simply shakes his head, still glaring at the sleeping cat as if it personally ruined his life.

—

Shortly before sunset on September first, Danu finds herself standing next to a carriage to be brought back to Hogwarts as hundreds of students move around her. Snape instructed her to be on the trains platform and out of sight as the Hogwarts Express rolled into the station. She was to stay as inconspicuous as possible and try her best to file in with the other students so as to not draw attention to herself, the goal here was to not give any of the other students any indication that she had been in Hogsmeade all summer long.

Danu takes her usual seat at the Ravenclaw table, Bram stretches out on his back on her lap and falls asleep, the girl next to her with blonde hair a dazed look on her face reaches out and strokes his stomach before smiling up at Danu warmly. Danu returns the smile and listens intently as the girl warns her of the dangers of Wrackspurts, which, apparently, are known to make kittens go mad.

The Sorting Ceremony ends with a roar of applause as the students begin to pile their plates high with food. Danu and the girl next to her, whom she learns is named Luna, continue their conversation while grazing at their plates. The two of them seem to have the same appetite, fruit, pastry, pudding. Suddenly, the room quiets. Danu and Luna stop talking abruptly and look towards the front of the Great Hall where Dumbledore has taken his place behind his podium.

"So! Now that we are all fed and watered, I must once more ask for your attention, while I give out a few notices. Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me to tell you that the list of objects forbidden inside the castle has this year been extended to include Screaming Yo-yos, Fanged Frisbees, and Ever-Bashing Boomerangs. The full list comprises some four hundred and thirty seven items, I believe, and can be viewed in Mr. Filch's office, if anybody would like to check it.” Dumbledore begins his speech, his blue eyes twinkling with mischief as they are so known to do.

Dumbledore introduces a new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Professor Moody. The man stands and bows, then takes a long swig from a flash he pulls from his cloak pocket before sitting back down. Danu glances a few seats down from Professor Moody and spots Snape, his eyes fixed on the new professor. Students around her begin to giggle, they gossip about Snape’s undoubted jealousy towards Moody for “stealing” his position. Just then, Moody shifts his gaze towards the Ravenclaw table. The candle illuminated the dozens of scars across his face, a large chunk missing from his nose, and a fake eye that whirls and spins in the socket. Danu gasps involuntarily before immediately feeling guilty.

Danu’s attention is drawn back to Dumbledore, who is in the middle of telling them about a tournament. She had missed the first portion of his explanation, and looks towards Luna to help her out, but it is of no use. Luna is fidgeting in her seat, humming a tune while looking up at the ceiling. She had heard none of the speech. Dumbledore goes on to explain that students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving in October and remaining in the castle until the end of term. They must welcome the guests with open arms, and support the winner of the tournament, even if they are not a Hogwarts student.

Students begin to clap and cheer, ones around her whisper excitedly about entering. Others scoff and say that it is unfair that you must be seventeen to enter. Dumbledore cuts them all off with a clap of his hands and sends them up to their dorms.

Danu stands to leave, clutching Bram to her chest, when she feels a hand slip in to her own; it is Luna. She smiles at Danu, and the two of them make their way up to Ravenclaw Tower while Luna speaks excitedly about Nargles.

“They think I’m a bit odd, you know.” Says Luna, gesturing towards the other students lounging in the common room as the two of them part ways outside of the seventh year dormitories, “Some people call me, ‘Loony’ Lovegood, actually.”

“Oh, Luna. I don’t think you’re odd. I think you’re brilliant.”

“That’s nice.” Luna says with a smile, spinning towards her own dorm.

—

Luna and Danu had become fast friends over the course of several weeks since term began. The morning following their meeting, she presented Danu with a strip of blue beads with a Butterbeer cork attached to it for Bram. Luna went on to explain that it kept the Nargles from infesting his thick black fur and hung it proudly from Bram’s neck. Bram, however, was not a fan of the necklace and spent most of his time gnawing at the cork. Luna often volunteered to keep an eye on Bram while she had her study time with Snape. Danu would often wake in the mornings to find Bram missing, only to spot him leaving Luna’s dorm when she emerged from her own. Danu didn’t mind, though, he was happy to share Bram with Luna, as he seemed to make her incredibly happy. Secretly, Danu was mostly happy to have a friend outside of Professor Snape, even if it took adopting a kitten to achieve that.

Danu stands in her usual spot in Snape’s potions room chopping lavender for Calming Drought as Snape weighs out crocodile hearts on a brass scale.

“Where is your cat, Miss Black?” Snape asks, not taking his eyes off his work.

“Bram is with Luna while I’m here. She’s actually an excellent baby-sitter.”

“Loony Lov-“

“Don’t call her that!” Danu snaps, a bit harshly. Snape cuts his eyes at her and scoffs.

“Luna is lovely. I enjoy her company.”

The two of them continue working in comfortable silence, it is only when the Calming Drought turns a light blue that Snape clears his throat and turns to her.

“I’m sure you are aware that St. Mungo’s has an internship for seventh year students.”

“Yes, but I was under the impression that it was strictly for Healers.”

“Ordinarily, yes. The headmaster has taken the liberty to write to St Mungo’s on your behalf, requesting an internship.”

Danu’s heart leaps with joy and a smile spreads across her face. Dumbledore would do this for her. After what she had done over the summer, she feared he had decided that she was too flighty.

“Do not get too excited, Miss Black. He has not received a response as of yet. I will inform you when he does.”

“Thank you professor.”

The two of them return to the cauldron and begin bottling the potion to bring up to the hospital wing. She realizes, suddenly, that she would be sad to not see Snape every day. Since term began, he has produced an excuse nearly every day to have her down in the dungeon brewing. She even mentioned the outdated potions book she had read in the Shrieking Shack, and he showed her the updated version of it, going as far as special ordering ingredients from Diagon Alley for some of the potions. Danu feels at peace with Snape, almost as she had with Hagrid, minus the hugs and laughter. The closeness has not stopped him from calling her out in his class, nor acting as if he despises her in front of other students, but she is no longer terrified of him. She must admit, the two of them do work well together. She will miss these moments most of all when she finishes term in a few short months.

Chapter Text

Weeks pass and Bram is no longer the tiny ball of fur he once was. While still very much a kitten, he now has long legs and no longer fits in the palm of her hand. His tail, which was once a wiry nub, is now long and luxurious, he frequently uses it to wrap around his body for warmth when he sleeps on one of the chairs in the common room. All of the Ravenclaw students now know him by name, and make sure to give him a scratch between the ears whenever they see him. While he still spends a majority of his free time with Luna, he has since decided that he is much too old for a baby-sitter and insists on following Danu to the dungeon twice a week for her lessons with Snape. Except, Snape has not been there in weeks.

Ever since the students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang arrived, and the Goblet spit out Harry Potter’s name, Snape has been busy with who knows what. This has not stopped him from leaving her a book and cup of tea next to her cauldron, along with instructions for whatever potion she would be brewing that night. The dungeon is dark and depressing without Snape, and this makes her giggle, being as Snape himself is dark and depressing.

Tonight, however, Snape is present and Danu can’t help but feel giddy at his return. Bram lies curled up on Snape’s stool, much to his displeasure, since Snape is between his class and the brewing room. Potter and Weasley serve an especially depressing detention in the next room, pickling rats brains. Snape stands in front of the door, left hand clasped to his right forearm, a pained expression on his face, watching as she uses his personal pestle and mortar to powder unicorn horn.

“Must you bring that filthy animal every evening? There is much more cat hair in this room than I wish there to be.” Snape remarks dryly, plucking a single black hair from the table and holding it up to the light to prove his point.

Bram stretches, yawns, and turns his body away from Snape, unfazed by his usual indignant personality. Danu finishes grinding the unicorn horn and places the pestle and mortar on the edge of the counter space, she then turns her attention to the cauldron bubbling lazily before her.

“Ms. Black, would you ple-“ Danu turns, perhaps a bit too abruptly towards Snape, her arm bumps the pestle and mortar, sending it crashing to the ground.

Ground unicorn horn dust fills the air, the granite mortar shatters against the stone floor while the pestle rolls away, gently bumping Snape’s foot. Danu’s mouth gapes open, everything begins to move in slow motions. Snape strides towards her, his face scrunched with anger. She instinctively raises her arms to her head in an attempt to shield herself from him. He grabs her by the back of the neck with one hand, Bram with the other, and tosses them both out of the private potions room and it to his classroom.

Still holding a tight grip on the back of her neck, he whirls her around to face him, Bram screams and thrashes in Snape’s strong fist. Snape tosses Bram to the ground as if he were nothing more than a terrible essay on a balled up length of parchment. Danu gasps and struggles against Snape’s grip, desperate to get to Bram, but Snape is strong, and Bram runs off screaming.

“YOU STUPID GIRL! WHAT HAVE I TOLD YOU ABOUT THE UNICORN HORN?” Snape screams in her face, her eyes sting with threatened tears as she looks up in to his angry coal colored eyes.

Something changes in his face, she can’t quite put her finger on what it is. His grip loosens, but his hand remains. He leads her to the door by the back of her neck, past a gawking Potter and Weasley, pushes her in to the hall, and slams the door in her face.

—

Danu and Luna sit huddled together for warmth in the stands, not paying an ounce of attention to the goings on below. While initially enthralled with the dragons, Luna quickly lost interest and began telling Danu all about her and her fathers search for the illusive crumple-horned snarkak, even inviting Danu to join them on their next hunt for one. It wasn’t until the stands erupted with both applause and boos that they even became aware that the task was over; Harry had successfully captured his golden egg, tying him and Viktor Krum for first place.

—

Snow falls in thick wet globs from the sky, not sticking to the ground, but making everything slick and miserable. Danu has a thick blanket wrapped tightly around herself while her and Luna search the darkened halls of the first floor for Luna’s missing shoes shortly before curfew. Danu left her own shoes behind in the common room as a sign of camaraderie while the two scoured the castle for any hint of the missing shoes. The two girls are clad in thick woolen socks as they pad their way from the grand staircase and through the Great Hall.

“It must be the nargles.” Luna states master-of-factly as they make their way from the Great Hall, each with a mug of tea gripped tightly in their freezing hands.

As they begin to make their way towards the grand staircase, two figures burst through the main entrance, seemingly arguing in hushed voices. Danu recognizes one of the voices immediately; Snape.

Snape had been avoiding her for the better part of a month, ever since she had spilled the unicorn horn and broken his favorite mortar. Despite being busy throughout the current term, Snape always left her tea, a book, and instructions for a potion twice a week when he could not join her in brewing; this small token of friendship stopped the same day. Outside of class with him once a week she does not see him, as he often skips breakfasts and dinners in the Great Hall. The only indication that she was to continue her private brewing schedule is the potions book left open in front of her cauldron with instructions to specific potion she is to brew. Danu found herself missing him, and wishing the two of them could brew together again. If she had only paid attention, not placed the mortar so close to the edge of the desk, things would be normal.

Danu watches as the second figure grabs Snape’s wrist and attempts to pull his right sleeve up his arm. Snape jerks his arm from the figures grip and slams their body against the wall, snarling something in their face in the process.

“I am not wrong!” The figure pulls their own sleeve up, and shoves it under Snape’s nose.

Danu and Luna stay glued to the spot; too caught up in the struggle to leave, too afraid of Snape’s wrath to stay. The two girls share a look, silently deciding what to do, when the second figure notices them and slinks from Snape’s grip before bolting out of the door from which they came. Snape stalks towards the two girls, even in the dark, Danu can feel the anger radiating from his core, he stops just shy of stepping on her bare feet and stares down his nose at them.

“What. Are you. Doing?” Snape’s voice is deep and low, vibrating her chest with each syllable.

“Nargles.” Luna answers before Danu has a chance to, she looks over to see Luna staring up at a strand of mistletoe hung from the doorway above the Great Hall.

“Mistletoe is full of Nargles. That’s where my shoes have gone.” Snape glances down at both girls sock clad feet and audibly scoffs in displeasure.

“Not only are these fabled ‘Nargles’ responsible for your missing essay, Miss Lovegood, but now you expect me to believe they are responsible for your being out of bed so close to curfew? If I didn’t know any better, I would think the two of you were…….up to something.”

Luna opens her mouth to respond, Danu reaches out and clasps her hand, Snape cuts her off just as noise begins to escape her lips.

“Go to bed, Miss Lovegood. Miss Black, follow me.” Danu lets go of Luna’s hand and gives her and apologetic look, Snape is already halfway down the hall, she can no longer see his outline in the darkened hall, but can feel his presence.

“NOW.” Snape’s voice booms throughout the hall, causing her to jump out of her skin and spill tea all down her front.

Luna sprints up the stairs, Danu gulps hard and attempts to calm herself before following Snape in to the darkness.

Danu carefully pushes Snape’s office door open to reveal a dimly lit room; Snape sits at his desk, elbows on the desk in front of him with his fingertips pressed together. Lined in front of him are several jars and vials in different shapes. As she approaches she sees leaches, lacewing flies, bicorn horn, knotgrass, fluxweed, boomslang skin, and several broken glass vials.

“Are we to brew Polyjuice Poion, Sir?” She asks, timidly.

Snape sneers at her and jumps to his feet, sending the chair skidding across the stone floor. Danu trembles and looks down at her feet while rubbing her thumb against the chipped lip of her teacup; a nervous habit. Snape strides towards her, she can feel him practically against her front as he jerks the teacup from her hands and slams it down on the desk. He grabs her cheeks with his thumb and middle finger, squeezing until her mouth puckers slightly, and forcibly lifts her head towards his own.

“LOOK. AT. ME. WHEN I SPEAK TO YOU!” He booms, causing her to jump.

Her hands go to his wrist in an attempt to pry him off of her, her breathing increases and her heart hammers in her chest; he holds steady, squeezing her face even tighter.

“You and your little friend Loony Lovegood have been stealing from me and I will not stand for it!”

Danu attempts to shake her head in denial, but is unable to with Snape’s grip on her face. She can feel her face redden in terror, tears threaten to spill from her eyes. Snape pushes her back and releases his grip on her cheeks in one swift motion, causing her to nearly tumble to the ground. She catches herself on a chair back, leans forward, and brings her hand to her chest in an attempt to steady her heart.

“Fluxweed, lacewing flies, knotgrass, among others, all missing!” Snape gestures towards the nearly empty bottles lining his desk and bends at the waist to look in to her eyes. “You are brewing polyjuice potion and I will. Find. Out. Why.”

“I brought six bundles of fluxweed from the greenhouse during last months full moon.” Danu managed to choke out between sobs.

“Guilty conscious, I assume.”

“I have never stolen from you. I have never brewed polyjuice potion!”

“So I am supposed to believe that all of these ingredients simply……walked away?” Snape straightens himself and raises an eyebrow at her.

“I have never-I would never steal from you!”

“You are the only person in this castle with unsupervised access to my personal stores! My personal brewing room! My personal expertise, and you take advantage of that!”

His voice rattles her head and sends vibrations down her spine, tears begin to trickle down her cheeks and across her lips, but she doesn’t dare wipe them as to not draw attention to it.

“That ends now. I will no longer be subject to your kleptomania.”

“Please, Sir! If I truly wanted to steal from you, wouldn’t I have started last year? Wouldn’t I have stolen something more valuable? A book, a silver dagger, for instance. Why would I steal these when I can get them from the greenhouse any time I want? Ask Professor Sprout, Madam Pomfrey, even Madam Rosmerta, I have never stolen a thing from anyone!”

Danu straightens herself and points towards the jars on the desk, desperate for him to believe her. Her heart continues to hammer in her chest, her palms begin to sweat, and her lower lip begins to tremble. She can not lose this apprenticeship, not when Dumbledore has gone as far as writing to St Mungos on her behalf, not when she’s so close to the finish line. If Snape brings this to Dumbledore, and he believes him, she will be labeled a thief and St Mungos will never hire her. The proof is damning, she is the only one with access to his private stores, she has no alibi.

“ENOUGH!” Snape bellows; he slams his hand against the desk so hard it rattles the jars. “Get. Out. Now.”

Chapter Text

As if it weren’t enough to babysit the girl all summer, he must now babysit her cat as well. The disgusting beast is present week after week, glaring at him with those yellow eyes and leaving it’s hair scattered throughout every surface of the room.

Severus hates cats.

He didn’t always hate them, there was once a time where he would try and save every stray kitten he found. Severus would bring them all home, parade them around the house, proud of his findings, desperate for his mother to congratulate him. She would always stiffen up at the sight of them, beg him to get rid of it before Tobias came home. At the time, he didn’t understand; wouldn’t Tobias be proud of him, too? Aren’t fathers supposed to be proud of their sons when they do the right thing? That’s what the television always showed; a black and white image of a father taking his hat off at the front door, clapping his son on the back and letting out a deep belly laugh when the mother made him sow his father the frog, snake, or lizard in his pocket.

It wasn’t until he watched his father kill four kittens in front of his very eyes in a drunken rage one summer that he stopped announcing their presence. Instead, he would sneak them in, hide them in his bedroom closet and swipe scraps from his measly dinner to feed them; but they always grew louder the emptier their stomach got. They were as hungry as he was, but he didn’t go screaming about it, not anymore, anyway.

That was when Tobias would find them. Sometimes Severus could sneak them out and toss them out the back door before he heard his father’s boots come crashing through the kitchen and a hand grab him by the back of the neck. A few times, he wasn’t quick enough, and he would have to bury yet another tiny, lifeless body beneath his mother’s scraggly rose bushes. Just as Tobias did with his mother many years later, when she finally died. Severus didn’t know how she died, still didn’t, in fact. It happened during his seventh year; the bastard didn’t even bother to let him know. He simply came home at the end of term, and she was no longer there. Tobias had her buried beneath the rose bushes, a small flat stone with a crudely carved E sits atop her resting place; he liked to think she was somewhere, watching over his kittens. Tobias followed her not long after, finally drinking himself to death. Severus didn’t know or care where the town decided to bury him. He never even went to claim his body.

The night he threw the girl and the cat from his office, he reminded himself of his father; except, he had the strength to stop himself from going further. His father would have broken the cats neck in front of her, then watched as she buried the pitiful thing, and beat her black and blue for the inconvenience. Holding her cheek between just two of his fingers the night he called her to his office to accuse her of stealing from him, he realized how much smaller she is than him. How frail, how easily he could bruise her body. He had to push her away from him. Images of Tobias beating his mother flashed through his mind, he could hear her screams, see the bruises on her face and arms the next morning. A shiver ran through his body. Severus was not, could not become, Tobias Snape.

Those big blue eyes just stared up at him, trustingly? How could she trust him, when he has scared her to tears? Those eyes, the part of her that was undeniably Sirius Black, filled him with rage, made him want to pummel her to the ground. He watched as a single tear crept from her eye, spread down her face, and dripped from the cupids bow of her upper lip. That part of her, the Lily portion, made him want to throw his arms around her and protect her from any injustice, including his own wrath and fury.

Severus had lost count of the amount of times he would turn towards her while they were brewing a potion together, see her from behind, and have to stop himself from calling her Lily. He did not want to admit that the girl made his days less dull; she often brought a smile to his lips, a genuine laugh to the back of his throat. Having her near was dangerous, having her away from him was boring; both were downright torturous.

At the time of discovering the missing potions ingredients, he fully blamed the girl. No one else came into his private stores, no one else had unsupervised access. She had a point though, if she had wanted to steal from him, she would have done so much sooner. Perhaps, he had been too hasty with his allegations. Perhaps he should have scoped out some other alternatives; Potter and his slew of misfits, or Karkaroff.

—

Severus patrols the carriages and darkened corners of the castle during the Yule Ball; he refuses to brew yet another contraceptive potion, as Pomfrey had him brew at least a dozen vials in preparation for this night already. Making his way from Flinches office towards the main entrance, he spots her, just as his hand pushes the door open. The sight was enough to make him stop a moment to compose himself. Sure, she is beautiful, but the arm that she is on fills him with such anger he must bite his tongue to keep from yelling at her.

Marcus Belby. The fourth biggest pain in his ass. Just being around the boy proved intelligence was not hereditary. How in the hell did she become mixed up with Belby?

Severus watches as the girl turns pink as all eyes seem to find her. She has always been a beautiful girl, a bit of a wallflower, but beautiful, nonetheless. Tonight though, between the dress, the faintest bit of makeup on her face, and her hair cascading in soft curls down her back, she was downright breathtaking. He exits the main entrance, thankful for the snow and bone chilling temperature.

Karkaroff, of course, finds him during his patrol of the courtyard and follows him around like a lost puppy that Severus just can’t shake. How many damn times does he have to tell him that they will speak later? It’s as if the idiot wants them both to be found out.

Severus finally convinces Karkaroff to go inside and fetch them both a warm drink and leans against a carriage. He has a perfect view of the Great Hall through the large windows in front of him. Belby drops the girls arm and beelines towards the buffet tables set up along the right hand side of the hall, the girl goes left and takes a seat in front of the very window he was watching through. She seems bored already, sitting alone along the wall, head turned ever so slightly in his direction, staring out into the darkness.

“Well? Do you see?” Severus is pulled from his thoughts abruptly as Karkaroff returns, empty handed, and thrusts his arm towards Severus’ face. “It’s never been this clear, never since-”

“Put that away!” Severus slaps Karkaroff’s arm out of his face and stalks away from the window.

“But you must have noticed-”

“We can talk later, Karkaroff!”

“It’s happening again, like before! And soon neither you nor anyone else will be able to deny it!”

“I’ve told you already Igor, I see no reason to discuss it.”

Just then, a carriage parked just outside of the main entrance begins to shimmy and wobble, doubtless full of underage debauchery. Severus flings the door open to find a Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff student snogging and deducts ten points from each of them.

“It’s a sign, Severus! You know it is!”

“I do not know what you’re talking about.” Severus lies through his teeth, trying to save himself should there be any students nosing about.

“Really? Then perhaps you won’t mind…..rolling up your sleeve?” Karkaroff makes a move for his sleeve, Severus pins himself against the carriage and raises his wand towards Karkaroff, daring him to come closer.

“You don’t fool me, Severus! You cannot pretend this isn’t happening! It has been getting darker and darker for months. I am becoming seriously concerned, I can’t deny it-”

“Then flee. Flee- I will make your excuses. I, however, am remaining at Hogwarts.”

Severus leaves Karkaroff standing out in the snow, enters through castle through the main entrance, past the Great Hall, through a long corridor, and out into the courtyard, desperate to have a few moments alone. Except, he isn’t alone, because there stands Black. The thin lace sleeves leave nothing in the sense of warmth, and he can see her shiver as the wind cuts through the courtyard. Snow clings to her strands of red curls. He clears his throat, and she turns to him, teeth chattering.

“Where is your date?”

“My da-oh! Belby? Ha!”

“Something funny?”

“Belby isn’t technically my date. He only asked me because everyone else already had dates. He only wanted in to see what food was being served.” Severus chuckles at this, typical Belby.

“And you?”

“It’s my seventh year. First tournament in twenty-two years. I would have been stupid to miss this.” Black untucks her hand from under her arm and gestures towards the empty courtyard, grinning.

“Yes, lively company.” Severus remarks, dryly.

“I just needed some air.” Her teeth chatter violently, her lips a faint blue despite the rose colored paint on her lips.

“Come.” He says, as he removed his thick cloak and drapes it across her shoulders. She wraps it tightly around herself and follows him back through the courtyard doors and down to the dungeon.

Severus produced two large mugs of tea, and places on in front of her on his desk. She cups it with both hands, closes her eyes, and lets the steam wash over her face. She still has his cloak wrapped around her body, swallowing her in the folds.

“I no longer believe you to be the thief.”

“I told you that I wasn’t” She states, matter-of-factly.

“Yes. Well. You are cleared.”

“Oh, that means so very much. Tell me, how could you have possibly figured that out?” Her tone is bitter and sarcastic.

“Don’t push it, Miss Black.”

She places her mug on his desk, crosses her arms across her chest beneath his cloak, and leans back in her chair, staring at him with an odd expression.

“Where’s your disgusting cat tonight?”

“Bram isn’t disgusting. He is actually quite clean, Luna ensures it. Says Nargles will infest him if he isn’t.”

Severus scoffs. Nargles.

“And he is with Luna. She went home for the holidays, asked if she could bring him with her. Said her father would be fascinated with him. I told her it was okay.”

“How very kind of you.” Severus states, matching her previous sarcastic tone.

The two sit in silence for several moments, sipping their tea, before he brings up the true reason as to why he brought her to his office. Severus opens the top drawer of his desk, and carefully pushes her tattered copy of The Hobbit out of the way, he retrieves a length of parchment and holds it up to her.

“Professor Dumbledore has received a response from St. Mungo’s on your behalf. I regret to inform you that they are unable to implement an internship on your behalf.”

“Oh. Well. That’s okay, I suppose it is the thought that counts, after all.” He can tell she is disappointed but smiles despite this.

Black stays for the better part of an hour, the two relish in the silence, not finding it necessary to partake in mundane small talk like so many around him are known to do. Before long though, she begins to yawn, and excuses herself to bed. She drapes his robe across the back of the chair while thanking him for the tea. He gets another peak at the dress she wears beneath, the deep blue color striking against her pale skin, the style elegant and old fashioned with a modern twist. Severus stands and produces a book from the edge of the table and slides it to her. He could not lie and say that he did not miss discussing literature with her and was most excited to hear her take on this one in particular. Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoevsky- his favorite book. Black gently lifts it from the edge of his desk, ponders the cover, and smiles shyly up at him before leaving the room.

Severus sits in silence for several moments, reading the parchment he had retrieved for the thousandth time.

Professor Severus Snape,

We regret to inform you that we are not in a position to grant an internship for herbology at the present time. While Miss Black is talented, we simply do not have the means to accommodate her endeavors. We look forward to her graduation and word of her N.E.W.T scores. She will make an excellent addition to our staff. Until then, please ensure Miss Black that we are interested in her and look forward to meeting her soon.

Severus knew writing to St. Mungo’s on her behalf could be a gamble but chose to inform her that Albus had been the one to send the letter, knowing that Albus would keep the secret for him.

Speaking of the devil, Albus strides through his office door just as he places the letter back into his desk drawers, a smug look on his face.

“I hear I have received word from St. Mungo’s. Miss Black thanked me profusely for writing to them on her behalf as I passed her in the hall just now.”

“Did she?”

“Indeed, she did. Such a sweet girl.”

Albus stands before him, cheeks slightly pink from dancing and drinking, grinning like a schoolboy.
“I have been conversing with Sirius as of late.”

“Have you?”

“Sirius is considering taking up residence at Grimmauld Place.”

“And this concerns me……how?”

“Sirius wishes to meet his daughter.”

“Does he?”

“He has that right, Severus. He does not wish to meet her in a cave, he believes she will think less of him.”

“Hm.”

“Sirius is planning to return to his family home by the end of term. He wishes to meet Miss Black shortly after.”

“I wish to be there for said meeting.”

Albus thinks about this for a moment, then nods his head in agreement.

“Very well. I will let Sirius know.” Albus turns to leave, Severus stops him, rolling up his sleeve slowly and producing his wand. He places the wand just above the Dark Mark, darkening it instantly. Albus grips his wrist, examining his Mark intently.

“Karkaroff’s mark is becoming darker, too. He is panicking, he fears retribution; you know how much help he gave the ministry after The Dark Lord fell. Karkaroff intends to flee if the Mark burns…..I am not such a coward.”

“No. You are a braver man by far than Igor Karkaroff.” Albus sighs and releases his arm. Hs blue eyes that were so full of happiness and light only moments ago, are now full of gloom and sadness.

“We knew this was coming, Severus.”

“I had hoped we would have more time.”

“Don’t we all.”

“The girl, where will she go after term?”

“I do not know, Severus. She will be an adult, too old for her current home. Perhaps….” Albus breaks off, eyes glazed in a far off sense. “Perhaps she will have a place with Sirius, if she accepts him.”

Albus leaves him, Severus spends the next few hours pacing his office, chain smoking clove cigarettes and thinking. He could ask her to stay at Spinners End, he’s frequently away, using it only days out of the year.

No, that would be far too inappropriate. She would laugh at him, turn him down, never speak to him again.

Instead, he drafts letter to Madam Rosmerta, why this idea came to him, he will never know.

Madam Rosmerta,

I hope this letter finds you well. I am under the impression that you are a bit of what the Muggles call a “real estate agent” and often assist in finding homes for young witches and wizards. Our mutual friend, Miss Black, will be aging out of her current home, and finds herself with nowhere favorable to go after term.

I am afraid I must ask for yet another favor. Would it be at all possible to find her somewhere close to Hogsmeade? Somewhere you can keep an eye on her, ensure her safety, and relay her security to me on a monthly basis? I thank you, as always, for your discretion in this matter.

I should also add that time is of the essence, and as always, funds are not an issue. I shall compensate you handsomely for your involvement.

I will await your response with optimism.

-Severus Snape

Chapter Text

It has happened.
He has returned.

Albus knew it would happen.
Severus felt it in his bones.
They both knew it was inevitable, nothing they could do would stop it.

The fear, bone-chilling panic, the pain in his arm as Potter and Diggory grabbed the cup in the center of the maze. He knew in his soul that something was wrong, he rushed to Albus, desperate for something to be done. By the time they had their bearings in order, a plan of some sort formulated, Potter and Diggory had materialized outside of the maze. The crowd roared, not yet aware of what he knew to be true.

Diggory was dead.
Murdered.
By The Dark Lord.

Severus removes his cloak, places it over the boy’s body. A vain attempt to give the child some semblance of privacy, a partial attempt to keep his father from having to see the terrified look on his lifeless face.

He was too young, they all were.

Severus is tired. He has been tired his entire life. He would give anything in the world to go back in time, change his mind, never join. If he could just get his hands on a time turner, he would shake his younger self, tell him what all was at stake. He was so poor, so desperate for things to be different. Malfoy and Mulciber gave him an out, promised him that his life would mean something, that he would be someone. Goddamn did it sound good. Looking back now, it was too good to be true. He had nothing to lose, he had hoped that Lily would forgive him, see that he was not truly one of them, he only needed some prospects and then he was out for good. It wouldn’t be forever, it couldn’t be. She told him over and over again that Avery and Mulciber were no good, that they would be the ruin of him. If only she knew how right she was.

Before he knew it, he was face to face with The Dark Lord. Avery, Malfoy, and Mulciber had told Him how talented he was, what a shame it was that he was a half-blood. The Dark Lord was taken aback by this, but soon saw just how talented he was, told him what good he would do. How could Severus refuse when he told him to hold out his arm, prove to Him how badly he wanted to be a part of his family. That’s what he called them all back then, his family. What a fucking family. It wasn’t as if he would be torturing or murdering people. No, he wasn’t the muscle, he was the brains. He simply needed to spy, brew the occasional potion when called upon, and relay messages. He wasn’t hurting anyone, not physically, anyway. That’s what he used to justify it, if only Lily would just listen to him, he could explain it. She would see, he was not a bad man, his soul was still intact.

The word slipped out before he could stop it. He didn’t mean it, truly, he didn’t. He was just so frustrated, so tortured, so humiliated. He wanted someone, anyone to hurt as badly as he did, and Lily was there, and his words were daggers. Dear god, he wanted to take it back the moment the word left his lips. He had begged her to please just give him another chance, but she wouldn’t. It broke his heart, shattered him, pushed him further towards Mulciber and Avery, had him staying at Malfoy Manor instead of going back to Spinner’s End.

Severus just wanted Lily to understand what they had put him though. Truly see the pain they had caused him, but she wouldn’t, couldn’t. She was blind to it. When word got out that she was actually dating that swine Potter, he was taken aback. Hadn’t she turned him down time and time again? When he heard that they had married, it broke something inside of him forever.

When Lily stopped speaking to him, he took that anger out on his mother. She didn’t deserve it; he was a stupid kid. Severus blamed her though. Blamed her for marrying a Muggle, for staying with him all those years, letting him torture them. He only went back to Spinner’s End at the end of seventh year to issue her an ultimatum; come with him and rebuild the Prince name, or she would never see him again. She was dead for months at that point and he hated himself. For months he plotted just how he would kill Tobias, what would be a painful enough death that he truly deserved. When he finally had the answer, he went to the place to issue Tobias’ death warrant and learned that he was already dead. Drunk himself to death. Severus almost lit the home on fire and danced on its smoldering remains. But he couldn’t, something inside of him screamed to make it his, to make it better. So, he did. Maybe it was to torture himself, or perhaps it was some fucked up way of healing long buried wounds.

If Severus had known that the prophecy he overheard was about Lily, he never would have relayed the message. He would have gone straight to the Potter’s house, begged them on bended knee to just leave, protect themselves, never trust Wormtail. Lily wasn’t even pregnant at the time, and he didn’t even hear the full prophecy before being caught and thrown out, it could have been about anyone! Months later, when The Dark Lord decided that it was about Lily and her son, he panicked. Knew that it was his fault that He even had that information. Of course, he went directly to Albus, he had no other choice. He needed to protect her, but he failed.

Severus knows that the girl is not Lily, it is a fight he struggles with daily. She is intelligent, and far kinder than her father could ever imagine being. While she struggles with wandless magic, and apparently apparition as well, she more than makes up for it in Herbology and Potions. The girl signed up for apparition lessons, much to his pleasure, he was able to sit in on a few lessons and got a front row seat to her countless failed attempts. There were no spliced limbs or missing chunks, she simply did not move. Severus watched as she closed her eyes and scrunched her face in concentration, each time growing redder and redder in frustration and embarrassment when she opened her eyes to find that she had not moved. Part of him wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of it, the other part of him wanted to sit her down and tell her just how brilliant she was at every other aspect of her life. She had a full breakdown in his brewing room later that evening, ranting, raving, pacing. He had never seen her so unhinged, so close to a fit of rage. She was positively glowing in frustration and anger.

“Is there such a thing as a partial Squib?” She asked him, eyes wide with fury, hair plastered to her reddened face with sweat. She was unrecognizable; possessed even.

“No, Miss Black, there is not.”

“There has to be. There absolutely has to be because that’s what I am!”

“You are not a Squib, Miss Black.”

She laughed, a guttural, maniacal laugh that chilled him to the bone. There he was, Sirius Black, clawing his way out of the depths of her being. Severus took her by the hand, so small and warm, and sat her on a stool. After several moments, she placed her head in her hands and sobbed. It took several moments for her to compose herself, at which point she told him how terrified she was of failure. How afraid she would be cast out of the wizarding world, the sleepless nights of worry over having nowhere to go after she graduated. He wanted to pull her in to his arms and tell her how truly brilliant she was, how proud she made him. Severus just wanted to tell her that she had a home to go to after term ended, that he had paid for it himself. He couldn’t. He simply gave her a mug of tea and sent her to bed, eyes red with tears, where she would undoubtedly lie awake the rest of the night in worry.

Madam Rosmerta found a home for her. It took two long weeks, but she finally wrote back with the address. Severus went to view it himself, to ensure its safety and proximity to Hogsmeade. To his surprise, it was only a short walk from The Three Broomsticks, he could look out of the bedroom window and down at its back entrance. If she were in any sort of trouble, all she would have to do is open the window, and shout. Madam Rosmerta, or one of her patrons would hear, and come to her aid. Just as he promised, he paid Madam Rosmerta handsomely for her involvement, paid for eight months’ rent in advance, and slipped the key and address into the envelope containing her N.E.W.T scores. A simple white lie, which Albus produced, ensured she would be under the impression that the Ministry secured the home on her behalf. She would never know that it was actually him.

—

“Severus, my friend. I was beginning to think you were lost to me.”

Severus bows deeply at His feet and prepares himself for him impact. He will be punished for being late, but he had to prepare himself.

“I’m sorry to have kept you waiting, My Lord.”

“Oh, Severus. How thoughtful you are. Tell me, where have you been?”

“My lord,” Severus clears his mind, pushes the girl out of every thought and memory, and rises to meet His eye. “I simply needed to ensure our position.”

“Our position?”

“Yes, My Lord. If I had left as soon as you called, Dumbledore would know why. I would lose his trust, my position at Hogwarts. We would no longer have inside knowledge of his plans.” His head began to swirl and throb, memories flashed at speeds he could not process, Voldemort was in his head, as he predicted.

“Severus, always so loyal. Always so obedient.”

—

Severus paces Albus’ office, the students will leave the castle tomorrow morning. Tonight, however, he is to escort Miss Black to Grimmauld Place to meet Sirius Black.

“Perhaps, Severus,” Albus begins, his icy blue eyes filled with wonder and curiosity, “I should be the one to accompany Miss Black.”

“No!” He shouts, perhaps a bit too loudly. Fawkes ruffles his feathers at the outburst and swoops from his perch and up towards the ceiling, sending red feathers in his wake.

“She will be arriving momentarily, Severus. You must calm yourself.”

“I am calm.” Severus grits his teeth and takes a seat across from Albus, just as the door swings open and Miss Black cautiously makes her way towards them. Only two short years ago they were in this same office, her demeanor much the same.

“You asked to see me, Headmaster?”

“Yes, Miss Black. Sit, sit. Might I offer you a lemon drop?” Albus gestures to the bowl of lemon candies in front of him as the girl takes her seat next to Severus and eyes him quizzically.

She turns down the offer of lemon drops, despite constantly helping herself to the bowl of cinnamon disks he leaves in his brewing room.

“Miss Black,” Albus begins, timidly, “we have been fortunate enough to establish your paternity.”

“You….You have?” The girls eyes light up, she turns to him with a wide grin on her face. He wishes desperately that he could be happy for her.

“He wishes to meet you. If you are interested in the reunion, that is.”

“He…he wants to meet….me? Really?”

“Yes, only if you are open to it.”

“Yes! Yes I am! When? When can I meet him?” She is already out of her seat, practically jumping for joy.

“Is tonight an agreeable time for you, Miss Black?”

“Of course! Yes!” The girl claps her hands, actually claps them like a small child.

“Miss Black, I must warn you of something beforehand.”

Her eyes sadden, afraid of what she will hear, then widen in terror when his name is uttered. Of course, she knew who Sirius Black was, everyone did. Now, she’s learning that he is her father. Still, though, she agrees to meet him, and now, he must as well.

Apparating to Grimmauld Place was quick, waiting for her breathing to regulate itself took several moments. She didn’t vomit this time, but stayed glued to the spot, staring at the house as it pushes numbers eleven and thirteen out of the way. She still gripped his hand tightly, refusing to budge even when he attempted to pry it out of hers. She was afraid, terrified even. Finally, he takes the lead and practically drags her up the stoop. The door swings open before they even knock, a house-elf on the other side mutters something about blood traitors before being chased off by Lupin who was waiting a short distance from the door. She releases his hand, leaving it chilled and empty. Before they can step foot inside, Lupin stops them, raises his finger to his lips in a shushing motion, and slowly tiptoes to the door to greet them.

“You must walk carefully, stay as silent as possible. We can’t get a…particular portrait down.”

Lupin turns and shows them where to step on the boards to keep them from creaking too loudly. The girl trembles beside him before filing in directly behind him, gripping the back of his cloak as if her life depended on it. The house reeks of rot and decay, cobwebs and dust fill the air, making it impossible to breathe. A short walk down the hall, he spots the portrait in question sporting a tattered blanket strewn halfway across the front. The occupant inside mutters something unintelligible before shrieking. The blanket had somehow shifted, a single eye glares down at them from a large hole in the blankets fabric before it falls to the ground.

“MUDBLOOD! IN MY HOUSE! TRAITOROUS SPAWN INVITING A HALFBREED IN TO MY HOME! IN TO MY BLOODLINE!” The girl jumps and grips him around the waist tightly before burying her face in his back.

Lupin rushes them through an open door and slams it behind him. He leans against it, closes his eyes, and slides down to sit on the floor, all while the portrait rages on the other side. The girl unglues herself from his spine and peers around the room. Lupin stands now, just as the door they had come through opens a crack, and Black slinks in.

“Snivellus. How g-”

“Don’t call him that!” The girl snaps. Sirius looks taken aback, Lupin’s eyes dart between Sirius, Black, and Severus before finally walking forward, clasping Sirius on the back, and motioning them all to sit.

“I’m sorry, Miss Black. Sni- Severus.”

The four of them take their seats along the great wooden table in the room. A large pot of tea sits in the center of the table, Sirius busies himself with it before finally giving up a folding his hands in his lap.

“I must apologize for the outburst you heard. We have been rather unable to remove the vile thing from the wall. Kreacher likes to corrupt everything we put in place to silence her disgusting mouth.” He shouts the last part over his shoulder, directed, apparently, at Kreacher himself undoubtedly lurking outside of the door.

“It’s….I understand.” The girl remarks almost too quietly.

The room is awkward and tense, everyone eyes one another suspiciously. Finally, the girl clears her throat and asks very question that has been seared into his mind for the last seven years.

“Who is my mother?”

“Her name was….is….well….I’m not sure which it is to be quite frank. Is. We will go with is. Her name is Rose. Rose Evans.”

Rose Evans. Lily and Petunia’s first cousin on their fathers side; her father and Mr. Evans were twin brothers. Rose would come stay several weeks each summer at the Evans’ home. Each Christmas, Lily and her family would make their way to Edinburgh for a week. Lily would return with grand tales of castles and Loch Ness Monsters. Severus and Lily planned to run away together, forge a castle and take it as their own, live together as king and queen; Petunia would be allowed to visit, only on special occasions, Rose could come and go as she pleased. Absolutely, positively, no parents allowed. They would eat ice cream for breakfast, cereal for dinner, never clean behind their ears, and itchy wool jumpers were banned without question. They were twelve years old, and it was a solid plan. From what he remembered of Rose, she looked strikingly like Lily, except with blue eyes. A trait from their fathers, as Lily received her green eyes from her mother. Severus knew the three Evans girls had floral names to honor their grandmother, Iris, who had passed away when the girls fathers were small children. He knew that Lily planned to name her own future daughter Iris, to commemorate her. She never got the opportunity.

“I met her when I was seventeen. Summer before seventh year.” Sirius continues. “I was staying with my friend, James Potter. The Potter’s were always very kind to me.” Sirius stops, a far off look in his eye, before Lupin brings him back to the present and he continues.

“Anyway. James was dating Lily, and we would sneak out to go meet Lily at the park by her house. Typical teenage stuff, you know? One night, she brought her cousin, Rose, with her. I was smitten, instantly. She was too. We were inseparable that summer. She was a few years older, I thought I was so cool.” Sirius grins out of the corner of his mouth and chuckles to himself. The girl sits there, engrossed in the story. “Well, it went on like that until it was time to go back to Hogwarts. Lily told her we all went to the same boarding school in Scotland. She was a Muggle, you see. Of course, Lily’s sister, Petunia, knew what we all were, and she hated it. Lily loved Rose; she didn’t want her to have the same reaction Petunia did. A couple months go by, and we leave Hogwarts for Christmas, I tried to find Rose but couldn’t. I was heartbroken over it. On the train back to Hogwarts, Lily tells me that Rose had gotten ‘into some trouble.’ I didn’t know what it meant, so she had to dumb it down for me. She was pregnant. That’s what everyone called it back then. Getting into trouble. I freaked out, you know? I was a kid! Times were dark, real dark. I was afraid. I told Lily that I couldn’t be responsible. I was afraid. Not only about a kid, but because if You-Know-Who found out, especially since I had proved to be a ‘blood traitor’ as it was called, He would have killed her. You too.”

“I did what I thought was best. I thought it would be better for her, for you, if I wasn’t in the picture.” Sirius gestures towards the girl with his chin then looks down at his hands knotted in his lap before standing and pacing the room

“What happened to her?”

“I don’t know. The Evans’ were killed in an automobile accident the summer after seventh year. James went to the funeral, I didn’t, but I should have. He told me Rose was there with the baby. With you. That you were beautiful.” Sirius smiled then, remembering the moment. “He told me that Rose asked after me, and he told her I would write to her, that I would like a photograph of you. She gave him one. It was of you and her together. She was holding you in her arms and smiling. I kept that photograph with me for years. I don’t know what became of it when I was arrested.”

Sirius gets that faraway look in his eyes again, slams his hand on the table, and storms from the room. Lupin rises from his seat and apologizes before picking up where Sirius had left off.

“He is still adjusting; he gets like this sometimes and must go be alone. I was aware of most of the story, having been there too. I was at the funeral. I held you for Sirius. You were so small.”

“You knew? The whole time, all last year, you knew?” The girls voice cracks, Severus glances at her to see a small tear rolling down her cheek.

“Yes. I wanted to tell you, truly, I did. I saw you in my class that first day and it took my breath away. You look so much like Rose. Like Lily. It’s hard for Sirius. I warned him before you came. I told him how upsetting it could be for him.”
“He mentioned James Potter. James Potter, as in, Harry Potter’s father?”

“Yes. James Potter was married to Lily Evans, your second cousin. That would make Harry your third cousin.”

“What happened next?”

“Sirius wrote to Rose; he carried the letter around for weeks. He never sent it. He and Lily discussed it, it was just too dangerous. Lily would relay messages as she could, but you have to understand. It was wartime. Things were dark. Families were hunted down, killed for no reason. We couldn’t….he couldn’t risk that. We are unclear about what happened next. We don’t know how you came to be where you were. We have a theory, but it is just that, a theory.”

“Explain.” Severus clears his throat and sneers the word at Lupin.

“We think that Wormtail turned her in shortly before turning in Lily and James.”

“Who is Wormtail?” The girl asks, eyes darting between Severus and Lupin, sensing the tension between the two men.

“Wormta-Peter Pettigrew is his name. He was a friend of ours. He turned. Gave Lily and James up.”

Sirius Black never reemerged. Never saw them off, and never said another word to his daughter. Upon leaving, the girl lingered in the doorway for a moment, perhaps hopeful he would come to say something to her. Finally, she turned to Severus, took his hand, and the two apparated back to Hogwarts.

Once back, the two sit in silence in his office, each going over the events of the evening. How had he not thought of Rose? It was obvious, now. However, the last time he sat eyes on Rose Evens, he was fifteen, she was eighteen with bleached blonde pixie cut, a nose ring, and a fake tan. She looked nothing like herself, nothing like Lily. Her true image had been lost to him, until Sirius brought it back.

“I won’t see you again, will I?” She looks into his eyes kindly before shaking her head and smiling shyly. “I shouldn’t have asked that. I’m sorry.”

“I do not know, Miss Black.” He hoped they would cross paths. Somehow be able to brew a potion, discuss a book.

“Thank you. For everything. You don’t know what it has meant to me, Sir.” The girl looks to be on the verge of tears again as she looks around the room, trying to burn each corner to her memory.

Black excuses herself to bed, Severus reaches into his desk drawer and produces a book. Great Expectations by Charles Dickens. He passes it to her, but she simply shakes her head.

“I’m leaving tomorrow. I can’t possibly finish it tonight.”

“Keep it.”

Black takes the book from his hands and clutches it to her chest. The smile she gives him fills his heart with such warmth and joy.

So much like Lily.

Chapter Text

Severus watches as Lucius Malfoy paces the length of the drawing room, his figure reflecting in the crystal chandelier and bouncing off of the mirror lined wall. Lucius stops, stokes the roaring fire once more for good measure, and continues in his trance, the thump of his step reverberating throughout the room. Someone, or rather something, had carelessly pushed all of the usual furnishings against a back wall, entrapping the large pipe organ Severus was partial to playing on occasion behind several oversized leather chairs and chaise lounges. The putrid smell of decaying roses mingled with smoke billowing from the marble fireplace, making Severus smoke cigarette after cigarette in a vain attempt to keep the stench from gagging him. In all the years he had known the Malfoy’s, he had never seen the home in such a state of disarray.

Narcissa enters the room, clutching the hand of a visibly shaken Draco. The Malfoy family portrays themselves as fearless and noble, but deep down, they are all weak. Each and every one of them. There was once a time when Severus looked up to Lucius, thought him to be a God. Now, he saw him for what he truly was, a coward. Severus wanted to shake him before The Dark Lord arrived , tell him to get it the fuck together, that they were all terrified but didn’t go sniveling about it, but he knew Lucious would only find a way to pick it apart, feed him to The Dark Lord to keep the heat off of himself.

There is to be a new professor at Hogwarts this year, one hand-picked by Lucius Malfoy himself; Dolores Umbridge.

Umbridge is a stout, toad like woman with a high pitched, shrill voice that makes Severus want to gouge out his own ears. On top of that, she is vile, power hungry, sadistic, and narcissistic. Her hobbies include, but are not limited to, torture, humiliation, and complete annihilation of Muggle kind, despite herself being a half-blood. Severus vows to himself and The Order to do what he can, when he can, to protect the students from her as discretely as possible. Despite missing her, he is ever so thankful that Miss Black is no longer a student at Hogwarts, and thus, exempt from Umbridge’s tyrannical reign.

—

It has been one month and three days since he last laid eyes on Miss Black. The first several weeks, it took everything in him to keep from knocking on her door, asking her to tea, gifting her yet another book. But, he held his ground. He is not, and will not be, romantically attracted to her. She simply fills a void within him that he cannot begin to understand. The girl is humble, kind, and utterly brilliant. He finds being near her peaceful; relaxing to an extent he has yet to experience in another person, even Lily. Lily came with stipulations, even before acquainting herself with Potter and his merry gang of bullies, there was still Petunia to compete with. Petunia wished Lily to be more like her. Normal, as she put it, less of a freak, as she liked to scream at the top of her lungs. Severus had row after row with Petunia, each resulting in the silent treatment from Lily for days on end. Miss Black had none of that, he did not need to compete for her company, company she herself seemed to enjoy. Severus wished to tell her that she made his days brighter when she was near, but for now, he simply had to keep her safe, and that meant staying away. He feared her reaction if she ever saw the Mark on his arm, heard the rumors floating around that he was actually a Death Eater. He could not tell her the truth despite the inability to permeate her mind, it was far too great of a risk.

Madam Rosmerta took a liking to the girl over the previous summer when she stayed at The Three Broomsticks after he caught her living in The Shrieking Shack. She offered Miss Black a part time job there at the inn while she awaited her position at St. Mungo’s set to start this upcoming spring when one of the fellow herbologists was scheduled to retire. Severus knew from Madam Rosmerta’s weekly correspondents that Miss Black was unharmed. Miss Black had written to him on several occasions since the end of term. Inviting him to tea, inviting him to dinner, and even inviting him to see her new home, he had not replied to any of them, and eventually she stopped writing altogether.

If he were someone else.
If it were a different time.
If war were not on the horizon.
If he were not directly involved with a group of people who wished her dead.
Severus would go to her.

—

Week after excruciating week Severus must sit across from Sirius Black and listen to him whine and sulk. Not once has Sirius uttered her name, asked after her, ensured her safety, or even acknowledged her existence in any way. Sirius only had eyes for Harry Potter. It all came to a head after Lupin, Molly Weasley, and Sirius had yet another screaming match over whether or not the boy should be allowed in on the meetings.

“HE IS MY GODSON!” Sirius bellowed above them all, rattling the teacups in their saucers and causing Arthur Weasley to nearly drop the plate of sandwiches he was carrying to the table.

“WE HAVE NOT FORGOTTEN, SIRIUS!” Molly Weasley screams above him, face turning red in frustration over the same never ending fight.

“It is my job to keep him safe, I owe it to him! I am simply-”

“And what of your daughter. Hm?” Severus finally interjects, tired of keeping this secret from Arthur and Molly. Arthur freezes and glares at Sirius, mouth agape.

Molly mouths words but no sound escapes her lips. Lupin runs his hands over his face and prepares himself for the coming storm. Sirius slams his hands on the table and makes to launch himself over it to get to Severus.

“You know nothing, Snivellus!” Sirius sneers as Lupin grabs him by the elbows from behind and slams his body down on to a chair in an attempt to hold him back.

“Oh, but I do, Snuffles. I know where she is, I know that she is safe. I know these things because I ensure it. More than that though, I know that you have not once asked after her.”

“Severus, what are you-” Molly begins, Severus holds his hand up to stop her, knowing he won’t be able to get a word in the moment her and Sirius start up again.

“I have done more for your child in the last six months than you have her eighteen years of life. Did you congratulate her on her outstanding N.E.W.T score? How about when she secured a position at St. Mungo’s before she even took those N.E.W.Ts? Her birthday has recently passed, and I wonder Sirius, did you even write to her then, or were you too busy being a godfather to bother?” Severus stands and glares down at Sirius being restrained to a chair by Lupin. He wants these words to cut Sirius, hurt him to his core. “Pathetic. You should be thanking me for what I have done for her. Thankful that she is even alive at all. Instead, you ignore her existence entirely for your own selfish pleasure. She means less to you than a ghost. Does Potter even know? Tell me, how will he like you once he learns how you treat your own flesh and blood?”

Severus turns and makes his way out of the room. Sirius screams something unintelligible as Arthur lunges and drapes himself across his knees in an effort to help Lupin keep him contained. Molly screams and pushes the table away from the lashing pile of men. Severus breaks the Imperturbable Charm meant to block out nosing children and nearly kicks a spying Weasley child in the head as they flee from outside of the door. The child, he believes the girl this time, runs up the stairs on all fours as the portrait of Walaburga Black takes up her screeching once more as the commotion from the kitchen permeates from under the now spell-less door.

—

Severus reads the letter for the dozenth time in an hour, hoping he misread it the other times and lights yet another clove cigarette. He closes his eyes, leans his head against the back on the chair, and lets the smoke slowly escape from his nostrils. The window to his drawing room at Spinner’s End is left open, the late summer storm brewing outside sends gusts of wind through the room, threatening to extinguish the candle flames lighting the room which would leave him in total darkness. If he had a taste for drink, he would have something strong in his hand to combat his nerves, but he does not. The letter in question arrived just as he returned from Grimmauld Place, he fights every instinct to race to Hogsmeade and assume the search himself but knows it will blow his cover. Despite his every effort, he has failed to keep her safe.

Carrow twins and Nott in Hogsmeade trying to recruit.
Heard a scream and sent a friend to check on our acquaintance.
Can not locate the acquaintance, have established a search party.
Do not come until I give word. Too dangerous.
Will write when I know more.
-M.R

—

Summer turns to fall, fall turns to winter. It has been six months and fourteen days since he last saw Miss Black; five months since she was taken from her home in Hogsmeade. Severus finds himself once again pacing Albus Dumbledore’s office awaiting their own little spy’s return. It did not take long for Severus and Albus to formulate a plan to find and rescue the girl. What they did not anticipate, however, was the time it would take to put the plan in motion. A soft pop shakes him from his trance. There, in the middle of the room, stands the spy.

“Dobby is pleased to announce, Sirs, that Miss Black is still in good health. Thanks to Mister Snape, that is.” Dobby the house-elf stands proudly in the center of the room as Albus and Severus both rush to his side to gather more information from him.

“You haven’t been seen, have you, Dobby?” Albus asks, his eyes full of worry for the girl. Severus takes a deep breath and reaches for the small pouch the elf carries around his waist to deliver healing potions to the girl.

“No, Headmaster. Dobby is quiet, Sir. Dobby would never risk being found out!”

“You’re an excellent spy, Dobby.” Albus winks as he passes the elf a pair of brightly colored wool socks from the table, payment for the elves selfless involvement.

Dobby smiles brightly up at Albus, snaps his fingers, and is once again gone with a small pop. Severus runs his hands through his matted hair and wishes desperately to scream and rip every last strand from his head. They had not known for certain that she would be held in the makeshift prison cells in the cellar of Malfoy Manor, but he knew that someone was based on the screams he had heard each week during the meetings that The Dark Lord called. After one such meeting, Amycus Carrow stops Severus in the hall and produces a vial of Blood-Replenishing Potion on a warn faux leather cord and asks him what it is. Had he paid an ounce of attention during his school years, he would know exactly what it was. This night, however, Severus is thankful for his stupidity, because he knows without any doubt that the girl is there, and Amycus had been the one to take her. Dobby was their only choice, he knew Malfoy Manor like the back of his tiny brown hand, he could pass through it unnoticed and bring them back news of her wellbeing, pass potions to ensure her survival. Under no circumstances was Dobby to tell the girl who the potions came from, only that they were there to help her.

—

Another two weeks pass before Severus finds himself once again sitting across from The Dark Lord in the dark drawing room of Malfoy Manor, surrounded by the grim, terrified faces of the several men and women surrounding the table. Tonight’s discussion; how to free the fellow members from Azkaban. Amycus Carrow sits diagonally from Severus, his smug face begging for a Crutiatus Curse. The meeting comes to a close, The Dark Lord dismisses them all, and several stand and rush from the room. Lucius, Narcissa, Pettigrew, Amycus, Alecto, The Dark Lord, and Severus are all that remain around the table. Tonight, will be the night that he takes the girl from the manor.

The Dark Lord makes to rise, Amycus clears his throat. The Dark Lord halts, his red eyes fixing on Amycus.

“M….My Lord.” Amycus stammers, clearly not prepared for this discussion. “If I may.”

“Yes, Amycus. What is it?”

“Our…our little guest in the cellar. Might I….might I rid of her now?”

“She is of no use to me.” The Dark Lord remarks dryly, fluttering his hand in the direction of the cellar to indicate his annoyance at the matter.

Severus reaches into the pocket of his robe and produces a simple vial of water labeled Veritaserum, he slides the vial towards The Dark Lord and raises his brow. The Dark Lord seems interested, they lock eyes, Severus produces a false memory of himself brewing the potion in his brewing room at Hogwarts.

“Amycus.” The Dark Lord announces in a shrill voice, startling Narcissa. “Go retrieve our guest.”

Severus heard her screams before he saw Amycus drag her through the door by her hair. It took everything in him to remain calm, steady his pounding heart. The once white sun dress she had warn the day he sent her off to Diagon Alley is now a dingy grey color, blood stains litter the fabric, the left strap is ripped from the seam, exposing her breast and ribs. She makes to cover herself but is pushed to the ground. The girl, while always thin, was reduced to a mere skeleton. Her body was filthy, dried flood crusted her face and neck; her hair was matted with it. Severus could not tell where one bruise on her body ended, and another began. She attempts to crawl away from Amycus when he hits her with a Cruciatus Curse. Her body jerks and contorts on the ground as she lets out the most ear shattering scream Severus had ever heard. Narcissa covers her ears as a single tear falls from the tip of her nose.

“That will do, Amycus.” the Dark Lord finally announces.

Severus lets out a shaky breath as Amycus finally releases the girl from the curse. She quiets her scream immediately but continues to whimper and writhe on the ground as she stares up at the ceiling, streams of tears leave paths in the grime and blood on her face.

The Dark Lord rises and begins to circle the girl still lying on the floor while making a tisking sound.

“Petrificus Totalus” The Dark Lord whispers, freezing the girl entirely.

He then levitates her, drifting her body above the table they all sit at. The girl’s head rolls back and smacks the table with a thump, her eyes roll back in her head, then slowly readjust themselves to stare directly into Severus’ eyes. She makes to scream again, but it is him this time that whispers his own spell.

“Langlock” Severus mutters beneath his breath as he locks eyes with the girl, silently begging her to trust him. He sees the fear and betrayal in her eyes as she registers his attendance in the home.

“Amycus wishes to take this girl.” The Dark Lord laughs at his own private joke.

“Yes, My Lord.” Amycus finally finds his guts and stares into The Dark Lords eyes.

“Take her?” Severus asks.

“As a bride or as a whore, I’ve yet to determine.” The Dark Lord laughs once more and turns to Severus. “Do you know this girl?”

“Yes. In fact, I do.” Severus announces as he looks into The Dark Lord’s eyes. He produces the faintest memory of the girl, sitting front row in his classes. “If I may, My Lord.”

“Go on, Severus.”

“The girl is talented. Give her to Amycus and she’ll be dead before the week is through. Such a waste of potential, if you ask me.”

“My Lord!” Amycus makes to grab the girl but is grabbed by the sleeve by The Dark Lord.

“SILENCE!” He shouts, slinging Amycus by the sleeve and on to the ground. “Go on, Severus.”

“I propose, My Lord, that I be the one to take the girl.” All around him gasps and sounds of interest fill the room.

“And just why would you want to do that?” The Dark Lord laughs as he surveys the girls motionless body hovering above the table.

“I have seen her work. She has been offered a position at St. Mungo’s, before even passing her N.E.W.T exam, she is talented. I can take her, heal her. Perhaps, we even place her within Hogwarts. Dumbledore already has a liking towards the girl. We make her ours; we have yet another set of eyes in the castle. She is young, likable, she will be able to convince more students to join us.”

The Dark Lord trails the tip of his wand down the girl’s body as the ponders this suggestion, finally, he turns back towards Severus.

“She is but a Mudblood.”

“A half-blood, My Lord. As am I.”

“A half-blood, you say? Just who’s half-blood would she be?”

“Sirius Black.” Severus spits out, eyes locked on Narcissa Malfoy.

The Dark Lord doubles over with laughter and turns to Narcissa.

“You hear that, Cissy? Your cousin, the blood traitor sired a half-blood!” He continues his laughter, and the others take suit. “What say you, Cissy? Should we give your darling cousin here to Severus?”

“She is no cousin of mine!” Narcissa spits. “But I hold no qualm in the matter.”

“Very well. It is settled, then.”

The Dark Lord paces back towards Severus and take him by the hand. He pries the girls rigor like hand from her body and places it in Severus’ before taping it with the wand he held. A golden ribbon like essence encircles their joined hand and wrist, binding them together. The golden ribbon dances across their skin, raising the tiny hairs on the backs of their hands, before settling and dissipating within. The two were married.

“I am trusting you with this, Severus.” The Dark Lord announces as he released the girl from the Petrificus Totalus, her body slams painfully on to the table below but she does not make to move. “Do not let me down.”

Severus gathers the girl in his arms as she resists him. She thrashes and attempts to scratch at his face, but she is weak and slow, and Severus is able to wrap his arms around her own to pin them to her sides before Apparating back to Spinner’s End.

Outside of his door, snow falls in thick globs to the ground where it settles into the blankets of white, wind whips harshly at their bodies as he remembers the girl is scantily dressed and wearing no shoes. He released her from his grip and makes to remove his cloak to wrap around her, not thinking she would be foolish enough to run. She is, however, foolish enough to run. She does not make it far before she trips and plants herself in the deep snow. Severus plucks her from the ground and cradles her to his chest, she weighs hardly anything. Whether it be shock, cold, or a combination of both, the girl ceases her struggle and goes limp in his arms.

The girl is completely catatonic as he rolls up his sleeves and draws a bath for her. Severus places the girl in the tub and rinses her body. He drains the filthy red tinged water and replaces it with fresh, using a large glass he rinses the remaining blood from her hair. The water is once again fouled, and he drains and replaces it once more. Finally, he is able to properly bathe her. He uses his own soap to wash her hair and is careful to avoid the large lump on the back of her head where it smacked the table at Malfoy Manor. Her body is limp and pliable as he lifts her arms to wash them, her fingertips are raw and bloodied, the nails look as if they had been ripped off at the cuticle. Still though, she does not make a sound, only stares straight ahead, knees clutched to her chest and mouth slightly agape. Severus places his finger beneath the girls chin and turns her head towards his, he stares into her eyes as purely as he can manage.

“I will not harm you.” He promises her before removing her arms from her knees and straitening her legs.

He maintains constant eye contact, silently vowing to the girl that he means no harm as he cleanses her chest, intimates, and legs with a soapy rag. Severus finishes her legs and moves to her back, gently, he brushes her wet hair off of her spine and gasps. Each vertebrae sticks out like a glacier in the sea, her ribs visible with deep divots between each one. Bruises in various stages of healing litter her body. Cigarette burns trail up and down her arms, neck, and even her back. A large, purple boot print sits in the center of her spine, he reaches out and brushes his fingers gently across it before finally cupping the side of her head and pulling her in to his chest, not caring if she soaks him.

Severus holds her against his chest for several moments, thankful she is finally safe. He kisses the top of her wet head and breathes her in before reaching down and draining the water for the final time. He wraps her in a towel and lifts her from the tub before carrying her down the hall and sitting her at the vanity in the room that once belonged to his mother and paternal grandmother before her. The room stands as it did when he was a boy; a white vanity with a broken mirror from when his father smashed it with a shoe one drunken night, and a queen sized canopy bed, canopy missing. While very small and not lived in for many years, it would now be hers. Severus leaves the girl sitting at the vanity and rushes across the hall to his own room, he rips one of his nightshirts from the hanger in the closet and takes a moment to steady his breathing. Once he regains control of himself, he grabs a vial of Sleeping Draught from his bedside table and returns to the girl to find her sobbing and gripping the towel to her body. She allows him to pull the nightshirt over her head and remove the towel she had been clutching. The shirt swallows her small frame and hangs from her chest but clings to the rest of her still wet body, the sleeves are much too long and he rolls them up several times in order to reveal her small hands, for a moment he is worried that she may trip over it should she try and walk, but there is not much he can do about that at the moment.

Severus picks up his mother’s vanity brush and a comb and begins to gently untangle the matted hair. Chunks of her hair are missing in places, others uneven and look as if they were cut with a dagger, it would need to be cut eventually to even it out. Eventually, he manages to remove most of the knots and tangles. He moves to her side, removes the stopper from the vial of Sleeping Draught, tilts her head back gently, and brings the vial to her lips. She swallows without hesitation and her eyes immediately begin to flutter. He takes her in his arms once more, turns back the covers on the bed, and gently places her in the bed.

“I trusted you.” She mutters, then falls into a deep sleep.

Severus pulls the vanity chair to her bedside and sits with her throughout the night.

Chapter Text

Twenty

7 July
Professor Snape,

I was wondering if you would care to join me for tea this Saturday.
I have recently read the most fantastic book, and figured it was my time to let you borrow one from me for a change. If you find yourself with a free hour, I live directly behind The Three Broomsticks and would greatly enjoy catching up.

-Danu Black

15 July

Professor Snape,

A cookbook from Paris has come into my possession, and while I do not speak French, Madam Rosmerta has helped to translate a few recipes.
I have recently taken up cooking and baking in my spare time; I figured it was not unlike potion making, in a sense.
I had wondered if you would care to join me for dinner this Friday.
I will be making chicken basquaise and lemon curd tart.
I look forward to your response. I have so many books to lend you!

-Danu Black

30 July

Professor Snape,

I am not sure if you have heard the news, I will be starting at St. Mungo’s in April. I am so exited I can hardly wait, it feels so far away!
Thank you, Sir, for everything that you have done for me. I know that you have so many responsibilities already, and you took another four hours out of your weeks for two years to help me. I would not be here if it weren’t for you. I will never forget that.
I wish there were something I could do to repay the debt that I owe you.
I apologize if my previous letters were inappropriate, or perhaps you believed me to have an ulterior motive. I assure you; this is not the case. I simply wanted to thank you once more in person.
I work at The Three Broomsticks Monday, Wednesday, Saturday, and Sunday mornings.
Perhaps you will allow me to buy you a coffee there before the place becomes too crowded?

I understand that you are a busy man, and I do not wish you to cancel any prior plans to appease me; especially after all you have done for me. I would greatly enjoy your company one morning, if you have an hour to spare.

-Ms. Black

Snape never shows up for tea, for dinner, or a coffee at The Three Broomsticks. He never replies to her letters or sends any indication that he had even received them. He does not owe her anything, he has given her enough. Danu thought, however, that the two were something like friends and would remain in contact following her completion of term. He did warn her, he told her himself that he did not know if they would see one another again following their visit with Sirius Black.

Sirius Black was her father.
Crazed mass murderer Sirius Black was her father.
Azkaban escapee Sirius Black was her father.

The idea that he was her father still had not sunk in, despite being over a month since meeting the man. Looking into his face, she saw the similarities. The shape of her eyes, her top lip, the subtle point to the tip of her ears, even the way her eyebrows arched were all mirrored on his face as he spoke to her. Something had happened between him and Snape, she could feel the tension radiating off of the two as they stood before one another. When Sirius called him that name, whatever it was she couldn’t remember now, something inside of her snapped, and she shouted at Sirius not to call Snape that name. Sirius looked taken aback, whether it be by the sudden outburst, someone standing up to him, or someone standing up for Snape, she did not know. Sure, Snape had his flaws; everyone did. He was angry, sarcastic, dark, and moody, but to her, he was kind. Well, as kind as someone often referred to as a “dungeon bat” could be.

Sirius had not written to her since their meeting, he didn’t even tell her goodbye as she left his home. Meeting her had been a shock to him, that much was clear. It was a shock to her too, but she would still write to him, if she had any idea where to send the letter. Luna was also unreachable at the moment, she took off to Sweden with her father the day after term ended in search for the illusive Crumple-Horned Snarkak, like they did every summer. Danu still wasn’t entirely convinced that they were even real. Luna had sent her a postcard when they first arrived, warning her that it could been weeks before she would have a chance to write back. The only positive aspect of her life this summer was having her own place to live with Bram. It was a tiny studio apartment above a long closed jewelry shop, directly behind The Three Broomsticks. When her N.E.W.T scores arrived two days before term ended, a note from the Ministry explaining that they had taken the liberty of renting her the apartment was included. The apartment was more or less furnished when she arrived, and what she didn’t have, she bought with the money she earned cleaning rooms and taking inventory for Madam Rosmerta four days a week.

—

The morning was beautiful, pleasant weather, a nice breeze, and not a cloud in the sky. Danu planned to finish her shift, then collect Bram and a book and read in the garden behind The Three Broomsticks where she had found him a year prior. Danu finishes her shift by sweeping the bar room and waxing the long wooden bar in preparation for the night. As she sweeps, a man and woman enter the bar. They each had pig-like features, slumped shoulders, and a wheezy voice that sounded as if they had stuck their heads in a roaring fire. The similarities were much too striking for them to be anything other than siblings. The woman takes a seat at the furthest booth, while the man sits at the bar and eyes Danu the entire time she works, eventually making it known that he was interested by following her throughout the inn. He never says a word to her, only eyes her as if she were a prized cow. Danu is alone in the front portion of the bar; Madam Rosmerta had gone to the back to fetch a few barrels of fire-whisky to restock the bar, and there were no other patrons this time of the morning.

“Is there something I can get for you today, Sir?” Danu asks, hopeful that the man will order a drink and leave her alone.

He opens his mouth to say something just as Madam Rosmerta comes around the corner and deposits three barrels next to the bar. The man slinks back to the furthest booth with his presumed sister. Danu has an odd feeling in the pit of her stomach, but soon shakes it as Madam Rosmerta dismisses her for the day. On her way out of the inn, she is sure to peak to the back of the room to ensure the guests are still seated. They are.

Once safely home, Bram greets her at the door by rubbing against her leg. She reaches down and scratches between his ears, and he follows her to the bed where she quickly changes out of her jeans and tee shirt and into a white sundress. She pauses a moment and remembers that it was the dress she was wearing when Snape had sent her to Diagon Alley last summer to collect her school supplies. A pang hits her in the heart; she misses him.

Danu places her wand on the bedside table, surely she won’t need it while reading. She grabs her book and clicks her tongue on the roof of her mouth for Bram to follow her. Two steps from the bed, just as Bram’s feet hit the floor, the door bursts open. She had locked it; she was positive that she had locked the door! There, in the doorway, wand drawn, was the pudgy, pig-faced man that had followed her around The Three Broomsticks only moments before.

Time stands still. She can’t reach her wand in time, she’s sure of it. She can’t exit the room, as he is blocking the only exit. She could scream, perhaps Madam Rosmerta would hear her through the open window above her bed.

Danu screams, the sound surprises even herself. Bram puffs himself up and hisses, Danu throws the book she is holding at the intruders head and rushes towards her wand. Her back is to him, something hard hits the back of her head, then everything is black.

—

Cold.
Dark.
Her head hurt; her neck hurt.

Danu panics, she doesn’t know where she is, how she got here, or how to get out. Someone is coming, their boots echo on the floor and reverberates throughout her core. She feels around her in the darkness, all she feels is the cold cement of the floor beneath her bare feet, and cold stone of a wall behind her. Danu presses herself against the wall, preparing for whatever is to come.

Wheezing.
She recognizes that sound.
Where does she recognize that wheezing sound?

“You know what I’m going to do to you?” The voice wheezes and cackles, Danu’s heart races. She begins to shake; tears roll down her face as she presses herself tighter against the wall.

“STUPIFY!” A red light streaks from across the room. Her knees buckle beneath her and smack hard against the cement floor. A scream escapes her lips before she plummeted back in to unconsciousness.

Danu has no way of knowing how long she had been locked here, wherever “here” was. Unless the stranger is beating her for no apparent reason, using her body, or screaming in her face, the room is completely dark. He lights a single candelabra to do his dirty work, to sweat and wheeze over her while she struggles beneath him. She was no longer a virgin; the purest part of her was stolen from her while she lie unconscious in a puddle of her own blood on a cold cement floor.

Has it been weeks?
Months?
What did he want with her?

One day, or night, she didn’t know, she was sitting in the floor, shivering from the cold. She had scratched and pried at every inch of the floor and wall she could reach, trying desperately to find a way out. Her fingers were bloodied and sore, much like the rest of her. A soft pop grabs her attention, a tiny hand grabs her own.

“Who’s there?” She jumps, heart pounding.

“Dobby, Miss Black.”

“Who’s Dobby?”

“Dobby is a friend, Miss Black. A friend of the Headmaster.”

“Dumbledore knows I’m missing?”

“Yes, Miss Black. Here, take this.” Dobby passes her a cold vial; she can’t see what color it is to identify the potion within.

She drinks it down, recognizing it immediately; Blood-Replenishing Potion. Her own vial that she had kept securely around her neck for the better part of a year had been ripped from her neck shortly after her taking.

“Will you take me with you, Dobby?” Danu whimpers, tears welling in her eyes as she clutches Dobby’s hand in her own.

“Dobby cannot take Miss Black with him.” Footsteps echo in the distance, Dobby places his free hand on top of her own and squeezes gently, then removes both from her touch.

“Dobby will be back. Dobby will bring more potions.”

Dobby vanishes with the same soft pop he entered with. The footsteps grow nearer as she tries to stave off the nausea of the impending sadism she will be forced to endure. Her body is shutting down. She can feel it in the marrow of her bones.

Dobby continues to come to her; how often, she does not know. She can’t even be sure that he isn’t a figment of her imagination; an image her brain has made up to help her remain sane. Each visit, he brings Blood-Replenishing Potion, occasionally an apple or pear which she scarves down as quickly as possible, depositing the pits into Dobby’s outstretch hand as he had instructed her to. If Dobby were in fact real, she owed him her life.

She longed for Bram, for his soft fur against her face as he slept on the pillow next to her. Her heart constricts at the thought of him being alone, injured, confused as to why she had abandoned him. Her throat tightens, unable to utter his name to ask Dobby to collect him and bring him to Luna. Luna would protect him. Perhaps he escaped, went to Madam Rosmerta, or even found himself sneaking into the castle to find solace with the students who would undoubtedly be arriving there soon.

—

Snape.
His name dances in her head.
His face flutters behind her eyes.
Why?

The room is lit, she can sense it despite her eyes being unable to focus on anything. Voices swim in her ears but she can’t decipher the words, everything sounds as if her head had been dunked under water and held there. She couldn’t remember anything past being drug from her prison by her hair. She remembered the pain though. The mind numbing pain of a thousand hot swords chopping her body and soul into pieces. A blood curdling scream deafens her. Could it be her own? No, she would recognize her own scream, wouldn’t she? Her eyes adjust, but only barely. She can see outlines, figures in the blinding light that surrounds her. They’re all upside down, why? Is this death? Has she died and left her spirit to float around an unknown room?

Snape.
Snape was in front of her.

She tries to reach out to him, but she is unable to move. He isn’t helping her. Perhaps she really is dead, and he can’t see her at all. Something pries her arm from her body, and she wants to scream at the pain that shoots through her core, but she can’t. Her tongue won’t work, won’t pry itself from the roof of her mouth. Can ghosts feel pain? Her body falls from something, she couldn’t tell from what. Where was she that she could fall from something? It wasn’t a long fall, but enough to send another shock wave throughout her broken body. Something grabs her and instinct kicks in, she fights as hard as she can. She thrashes and tries to scratch but her fingernails are gone and she’s just so tired. They have her, and she has given up. Dobby can’t save her, neither can Dumbledore.

The world whirls and spins, if there were anything in her stomach, she would be vomiting. Now she is cold, a cold that sticks to your bones and won’t let go. Her feet are in it, and she suddenly realizes that she is standing. She musters up the last bit of willpower she has within her, and she runs. She can’t see, can barely hear, they will catch her, she knows this, but she has to try. She falls, and they have her. She knows this is the end. This is when she will die. She wants to plead for her life, tell them that she isn’t ready, there’s so much she wants to do, but she can’t. The words won’t come to her. Her body is shutting down, she can’t go on any further.

She is Emily Bronte, writing about tormented love.
Mary Shelly telling the story of a young scientist by candlelight.
Amelia Earhart roaring through the sky.
She is anyone but her.
Everywhere but here.
So many stories race through her mind.
Lives she did not live, adventures she had not gone on, paths she would never take.
Finally, she is herself, and she is here, and she is staring into Snape’s eyes as he whispers over and over again that he will not harm her. Her body is warm and wet and the room too bright.

I trusted you.
I trusted you.
I trusted you.

It replays over and over again, screaming in her head but she cannot figure out why. Who did she trust? Snape. She trusted Snape. She trusted him and now he is here, and she is safe. She breaks. Sobs wrack her body as she finally realizes that she is safe. She doesn’t know where she is, how she got here, or how she survived but she is alive! She is alive and Snape is here, and he will protect her. She lets him dress her in something far too large for her. He brushes her hair, and it hurts so badly but she doesn’t protest because Snape will not harm her. He leans her head back and pours something in her mouth, and she swallows because Snape will not harm her. Her body is heavy, but she is warm and soft. She resists the sleep that overcomes her, but only briefly. Only long enough to tell Snape that she trusts him.

Chapter Text

Danu is jolted from her sleep by a scream. Something is holding her down, she screams and thrashes but can’t free herself from whatever it is. Her eyes are open but unable to adjust in the bright light, a whirl of black fabric cocoons her. It smells of cinnamon and cloves.

“LOOK AT ME!” The figure shouts as it grabs her face in both hands and forces it forward.

Snape.

Snape pulls her head into his chest and cradles the back of her neck as she grips his sleeves for dear life. Danu is terrified, every inch of her body aches and she doesn’t know why. She attempts to take a deep breath and tries to stop the tears she just now realizes are running down her face, but she can’t. The pain is overwhelming, all consuming. The pain in her ribs and spine in particular make it impossible to draw enough air into her lungs. Her throat constricts, raw and painful from screaming. She is hyperventilating, she claws at Snape’s arms as a deep groan escapes her lips, desperate for air. Snape wraps his arms around her, pulling her tighter into his chest and rocks her back and forth in his arms. She listens to his heart hammer in his chest as he cradles her like a child.

“Breathe. Just breathe.” He whispers into her hair over and over again until finally she is able to just breathe.

Slowly, she begins to calm, and Snape releases her from his arms. She feels hollow, something inside of her remains fearful but she doesn’t know why. What happened to her? Her eyes begin to adjust, she doesn’t know where she is. Hysterics bubble beneath her surface and she tries desperately to stifle it. Danu attempts to knot her hands in her lap as she did each time she was nervous, but gasps when the pain radiates up her wrists. Looking down at them, she realizes why. Nearly every fingernail on both of her hands were ripped to the cuticle, at least two of her fingers were broken entirely. Her hands were bruised and unrecognizable. She whips her head around the room, searching for any clues. Snow. It is snowing, she can see it out of the window to the left of her bed. It is August, how is there snow in August?

“What month is it?” She asks, scanning Snape’s face or any sign of injury. He’s exhausted, his eyes bloodshot with dark circles beneath. His hair disheveled, as if he had been running his hands through it for days. Faint black hairs have popped up on his face, she had never seen him anything other than cleanly shaved before.

“February.” Snape finally answers, his voice deep with sleep and worry.

“N….No. That’s impossible. It’s-”

“It is February tenth, Miss Black.”

“What happened to me?” Danu asks as she looks back towards the window, unable to argue the time of year with snow falling heavily outside.

“What do you remember?” Snape presses her back down on the pillow and sits beside her on the mattress, staring down at her with a concerned expression on his face. She wanted him to hold her to his chest again.

“I..You-” Danu tries desperately to recount anything at all, but nothing is there. Everything is fuzzy and far away, she can’t focus on a single memory, only pain. “I was cold. You brushed my hair. Then I woke up.”

“What else?”

“I was-Bram! Where’s Bram?” Danu lifts herself once more from the pillow and tries desperately to get out of the bed despite the pain radiating throughout her body, and rush to..to where? She had no memory, no recollection of a single event past August, but knew that Bram needed her, and she needed him. Snape pushes her back down on the bed.

“You are in no condition to leave this bed, Miss Black.”

“Will you bring him to me, Sir? Please.” Tears well up in her eyes, silently begging for Bram to be safe. She grabs Snape’s hand and grips it tightly, he jerks ever so slightly, but allows her to continue holding it. It’s large and warm in her own. Safe.

“We have not been able to locate the cat, Miss Black.”

“He’s alright though, right?” She grips Snape’s hand tighter as tears roll down her cheek.

“I’m sure the cat is quite capable of looking after itself.”

Snape removes his hand gently from her own and stands from the bed, the difference in the weight on the bed sending a shock of pain back to her ribs. She groans as Snape removes a green handkerchief from his pocket and hands it to her to dry her eyes. He makes his way to the door but pauses with his hand on the nob for an instant.

“What happened? Why don’t I remember anything?” Danu asks as she uses the handkerchief to dab at her eyes. It smells strongly of cinnamon and causes her eyes to tingle. Snape sighs and runs a hand through his hair before turning back to face her. He searches her eyes for a moment, then finally speaks.

“There was an accident. You are safe now. Lie down, I will return in a few moments.” Snape leaves the room and gently closes the door behind him.

Sounds of banging and clacking fill the room from below as Danu leans back on the pillow as she was instructed and tries to decipher what sort of accident had occurred. Bruises litter her arms; her hands were mangled beyond recognition. Yet, she remembered nothing other than an intense, searing pain and the terror that still clung to her core. Danu hoped Bram was somehow with Luna, somehow safe and cared for. She surveyed the room. It was small, smaller than the bathroom in her apartment, with old, faded wallpaper that probably once had pink roses but were now dingy and yellowed. The bed she was in was large, much too large for the room, and had to be pushed off-center to one side to make room for a white vanity with a broken mirror. Whomever entered the bed from the window side, opposite the vanity, would have to press themselves against the wall and scoot sideways. Outside of the bed and vanity, there were no other furnishings. The curtains on the windows were probably once a delicate white or cream color but were now brown and moth eaten. The room smelled strongly of dust and cloves but was otherwise clean. The bed spread, which was recently laundered, is a pale green color with red rose buds. Snape returned several minutes later, as promised, carrying a wooden bed tray with two mugs and a bowl. He places the tray across her legs, grabs the second mug, and sits in a chair next to her bed. She can tell he is exhausted as he brings the steaming cup to his lips and rubs his eyes. He yawns deeply, the first time she had ever seen him do so and shakes his head. Danu looks down at the tray; a mug of tea, silver spoon, chipped China bowl of oatmeal, and a faded green cloth napkin sit atop. She had no appetite but decides to pick up the mug of tea delicately with the pads of her hands in an attempt to keep from hurting her fingers.

“Eat slowly. You are quite emaciated. Mint tea. It will help your throat.”

“Where are we?”

“Cokeworth.” Snape answers while stifling a yawn.

“Why are we in Cokeworth?”

“I live in Cokeworth, Miss Black. This is my home. Spinner’s End.”

Snape leans forward in the chair and places his elbows on his thighs, the cup wrapped tightly in both hands threatens to spill into the floor as he watches her intently. He is drinking black coffee instead of tea, the smell of it burns her nose. Danu drains her mug of tea and attempts a few bites of oatmeal. It proves to be too much for her stomach to handle and she pushes it away. Snape takes the tray from her lap and places it in the vanity as she gazes out of the window. The sun begins to set outside, casting a deep shadow on the still falling snow. For some reason, she had always envisioned Snape living at Hogwarts year-round, but it now makes much more sense that he would have his own private place to retreat to during holidays. A gentle tap at the door causes her to jump, Snape pats her arm gently just as the door opens. Dumbledore steps inside the crowded room, his eyes filled with worry. He smiles warmly at her and crosses the room in two quick steps to gently cup her hand in his.

“How wonderful it is to see you, Missu-Miss Black.”

Snape stands and offers Dumbledore the chair he was sitting in, Dumbledore accepts, and Snape takes a seat at the foot of the bed, sitting down slowly and carefully as to not jolt her with his weight on the mattress.

“What do you remem-”

“She doesn’t remember anything, Albus!” Snape snaps, then runs his hands over his face and sighs deeply.

Dumbledore smiles warmly at her, his icy blue eyes staring into her own over the rim of his half-moon spectacles. She is hit with the most head splitting headache she had ever experienced. Danu grips her head in her aching hands and lets out an animalistic groan that surprises even herself. She tugs at her hair in an effort to just make it stop! Terror rushes through her mind, but no images; only intense fear and mind-altering pain.

“Enough! You are hurting her!” Snape snaps once more as he pulls her hands from her head. The pain is gone as quickly as it came. She lies back on the pillow and breathes as heavily as her aching ribs allow.

“I had to be sure, Severus.” Dumbledore pats her knee before continuing. “Has Severus told you anything, Miss Black?”

“He said there was an accident.” Danu admits that she rubs her tired eyes with the backs of her hands.

“Give me your left hand, if you don’t mind, Miss Black.”

Danu attempts to roll over, to reach far enough to place her hand in to Dumbledore’s but cannot. Snape helps her prop herself up on a pillow, and moves higher up on the bed, closer to her hips. Dumbledore stands and takes her hand in to his, they are warm and soft. He holds out his other hand, and Snape places his left hand in to Dumbledore’s as well. Dumbledore takes both of their left hands and has them grip one anthers wrist. A golden strand dances around their hands, weaving and wrapping itself tighter around them, binding them together. Danu watches in awe as the band tickles the fine hairs on the back of her hands before seeming to melt into their skin. She looks to Snape for explanation, but he is looking away from her, eyes closed.

“What is that?” Danu finally asks as Dumbledore releases their joined hands and sits back down on the chair. Snape exits the room without a word.

“I’m afraid I must ask too much of you, Missus Snape.” Danu looks at him confused, mouth slightly open, the words sounding so foreign in her brain. “There are things that you will see. Things that you will hear. There may even be things that you remember. I need you to trust me; to trust Severus by extension. Always remember, I trust Severus with my life. Now, you must as well. Severus will protect you, he has made that vow to myself, and now to you in the form of marriage. This may not make sense to you right now, but I assure you, this is for your best interest. Do you trust me?”

“Ye-yes, Professor. I trust you.” Danu rattles the thought of marriage around in her brain and begins to feel queasy. She had always imagined a fairy tale wedding, a memorable event, instead, she didn’t even remember that she was married at all, much less to Snape! “When? I mean, how? How did I marry Snape? Why don’t I remember anything?”

“I promise you, Missus Snape, you will get all of the answer, eventually. For now, this is all you need to know. Do not seek to open doors your mind has locked. Do not allow rumors to have you lose sight of what I am telling you. You are a very intelligent young woman; I have faith that you will see past anything that you may hear or see. I told Severus once upon a time that there may come a day when he must protect you, and now, he is fulfilling that prophecy. I assure you; no harm will come to you under his protection.” Dumbledore stands and makes to leave; he turns to her one final time at the door and smiles warmly. “As for when, it was three nights ago. You have been in and out of sleep for many days. This is not my first visit to Spinners End.”

“He’s back, isn’t he? Harry Potter was telling the truth last summer. He really is back.”

“I am afraid so.” Dumbledore’s kind smile never reaches his eyes. The happiness and twinkle that so often shines in his icy blue eyes when he smiles at you is replaced by a shadow of fear as he looks down at her before leaving the room.

Danu sits alone in silence for what feels like hours. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had returned; she had heard the rumors all throughout the summer. Madam Rosmerta believed them all to be true, most of the patrons were on the fence. The Daily Prophet painted a different picture, attempted to squash the rumors. Perhaps that was why Snape had married her; she was the half-blood child of a “blood traitor”, and Snape was a well-respected and immensely talented man. He had the means to protect her. She rolls the name around in her brain, desperately trying to make it stick.

Missus Snape.
Missus Danu Snape.
Missus Danu Iris Snape.
It didn’t feel real.

After what feels like a lifetime in silence, Snape enters the room. He is recently bathed, freshly shaven, and wearing a clean pair of black slacks and his signature tunic with the thousand buttons and high collar, and a black cloak. His hair is still damp, but nearly dry. He smells of bergamot and toothpaste. A cloud of smoke drifts into the room with him, smelling strongly of cloves. He had recently extinguished a cigarette. Another black cloak is draped across his arm, he places it across the foot of the bed and fumbles with something he had removed from his pocket before sitting back in the chair he had sat in all day.

“I do not expect us to live as husband and wife in private, Miss Black.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Do not call me sir. I do not own you. You may call me Severus, if you wish. Snape, if you must.”

“Then you have to call me by my name, too.”

“This,” Severus changed the subject and holds a tiny golden ring up to the light, “belonged to my grandmother, Elspeth Snape. It is not much, and I don’t expect you to wear it daily. Only when needed.”

“I’ll wear it, Severus.” His name sounds foreign on her tongue, her heart hammers in her chest as the realization that Snape was actually her husband. She begins to sweat but calms herself as the words of Dumbledore ring in her head. Snape will protect her. Danu holds her hand out for the ring; Severus slips it on her finger. It’s far too large for her, he takes it off and places it in his pocket.

“I will have it sized for you, once you become a bit healthier. I will also need to secure some clothing for you. For now, you will have to wear what you have on. We will take a trip to Olivander’s to purchase you a new wand as soon as you have healed a bit more. I have given you healing potions, but in your state, they are not taking effect as quickly as I had hoped. I will work it out shortly.” Snape stands and puts his hand out for her.

Severus helps her stand, days of lying vertically makes her weak and lightheaded. What should have been a simple task takes her twice as long, her body screams in protest as the pain wracks her entire being. The nightgown she wears is several sizes too large, and she has to lift the bottom to keep it from dragging the ground and tripping her, the sleeves are rolled up several times in order for her hands to be visible. Severus is patient with her, never rushing. He wraps the cloak tightly around her shoulders and lets her grip his arm as they slowly make their way out of the room and down the stairs to the front parlor. The room is lined with floor to ceiling bookshelves, each and every one packed full of books. Large leather armchairs sit in front of a simple wooden mantle with a recently smoldered fire. Severus reaches a simple silver box on top of the mantle and pops the top off.

“We will be traveling by Floo. I do not believe you can handle Apparating again in your current state.”

“Where are we going?”

“Hogwarts. I need to return to my classes, and you can’t be left alone. Albus temporarily opened the fireplace in my private chambers for us to use tonight. You will have to remain in my chambers at all times. You cannot be seen there. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Si-Severus.”

Danu had never step foot in Snape’s private chamber, but it was exactly how she had envisioned it. A king-sized bed sits against the center of the back wall made with a deep emerald green blanket. Matching drapes are tied back to the four posters on each corner of the bed, as well as matching curtains pulled tightly closed alone the far left wall. An eerie green glow emanates from beneath them, lighting the floor and rippling like water. She had heard rumors that the dungeon and Slytherin common rooms held windows with a view directly into the Black Lake, but did not believe it, now she knows that this are not just rumors and is thankful that the curtains are closed so she does not have to see what swims beneath. The stone floor numbs her bare feet, and she shuffles towards a white sheep skin rug at the foot of the bed and clenches her toes into the warmth of the fur. Severus steps out of the fireplace and quickly busies himself with lighting a fire. Being underground, the room has a deep chill that she hopes she is able to grow used to. The room is large and spacious, a dining table piled high with books sits in front of the windows to the left of the bed. To the right, a sturdy desk and chair where Severus obviously grades late night essays, based on the numerous inkwells and stacks of parchment on top. In front of the fireplace sits two large chairs, much like the ones she had seen in the parlor of his home. On either side of the bed are large floor to ceiling bookshelves packed full of books, just like the ones in is home. She now felt silly suggesting he borrow some books from her, he had probably already read them based on the amounts he already owned. Built into the bookcase were two jutting pieces of wood that acted as bedside tables, these too are stacked with books. An intricate snake shaped candelabra sits in the center of each one. Severus finishes with the fire and disappears through a door she had not noticed before; she leans forward slightly and realizes it is but a bathroom. She hears water running and the sound of something heavy scraping stone, and Snape reappears, drying his hands with a black hand towel.

“I thought you would like a bath, Miss Black.” Severus states, gesturing towards the lighted bathroom with the hand that held the towel.

“Danu. If I have to call you by your name, you have to call me by mine.”

“Your hair is quite uneven in the back. Would you like for me to cut it for you?” Severus changes the subject once more and crosses the room to let her lean against him as the make their way to the bathroom. She runs her hands through the back of her hair and feels the random sections of uneven hair, some as short as her shoulders.

“Please.” She whispers, suddenly self-conscious. Did he plan on bathing her? Of course, they were married, but he stated he did not expect them to live as husband and wife in private, and she was not sure if she was ready for him to see her nude, her cheeks heat at the thought of it.

Severus leads her into the bathroom and stands her on a towel he had spread across the floor. To her left, the bath was filled and steaming. To her right, the mirror above the sink had been removed from the wall, and was now sitting on the floor, mirror side turned away from her between the toilet and sink. That was the sound of something scraping against stone she had heard as he filled the bath. If her hands were any indication of what the rest of her body looked like, she was thankful for this small gesture. Severus opens a drawer beneath the sink and produces a pair of silver sheers, he gently collects all of her hair and slices it with three quick, sharp cuts. The weight was odd, her back felt cold without her hair covering it. She reaches for it and feels that it is barely touching the tops of her shoulders, the same length as his. Much shorter than she had ever worn before. Severus bends and gathers the clumps of hair that had fallen to the floor and leaves the room; the scent of burning hair quickly burns her nose. He had thrown her discarded hair into the fire. She stands on the towel, unsure of what to do. Severus clears his throat from the doorway, and she turns to see him nervously running his hands through his hair.

“I will wait out here while you undress. Pull the curtain around the bath and call for me once you are settled. You are weakened, and prone to falling. I will remain in this room to assist you should you need it.”

Severus closes the door behind him, but remains just on the other side, she can see his shadow on the floor beneath the door. The garment she wears is so large she only needs to pull her arms from the neck hole, and it falls to the ground at her feet. Getting into the bath is harder than she had anticipate, and she must sit on the side and swing her legs in slowly, instead of just stepping in how she normally would. Once settled, she pulls the curtain securely around her and calls for Severus to enter. She hears his boots on the stone floor, and the creak of the toilet lid as he lowers it to sit. The water is warm and inviting, the scent of lavender wafts from the steam rising and circling her body. It eases her aching joints and skin but stings her damaged hands terribly each time they are dunked under. Her body is foreign to her, none of it looks or feels like hers. She had always been slim, but now she can see each of her ribs under her breasts, her sternum and collarbones protrude from her chest, and her arms and legs are delicate and frail. Bruises pepper her skin at random, and a large black and purple bruise spreads from under her arm and down below her ribs on her right side. Long red hairs grow from her legs, between her legs, and her underarms; places she would usually keep cleanly shaven. Danu washes her body the best she can with a bar of soap and clean wash rag that were placed on the side of the bath, sucking air through her teeth as the soap makes contact with her raw fingers, or she presses a bruise a bit too had. Severus remains silent the entire time. Finally, she attempts to lean back to wet her hair, but is weaker than she believed and falls beneath the water. She flails and struggles, trying desperately to gain traction to lift herself, but only falls back below. Strong hands pull her free from beneath as she coughs and sputters the water from her nose and mouth. She brings her knees to her chest and clutches them tightly to provide herself some form of privacy, but Severus is not looking at her body, he has his back turned gathering a large black towel from the shelf behind the toilet. He dries her eyes with it and smirks slightly.

“This is precisely why I stayed here. I told you that you are weakened and prone to falling. Had I not been just on the other side of this curtain, you surely would have drowned in your own bath water.”

“I was trying to wet my hair. I slipped.”

Severus doesn’t say a word, instead he reaches across her body for the bottle of shampoo on the edge of the bath, his sleeves rolled up only slightly above his wrists. He squirts a dollop into his hand and gently massages it into her scalp. She winces slightly as prods a sore spot on the back of her head and allows him to lift her head to the ceiling as he pours water over her head from a cup that was kept next to the shampoo. Severus dries his hands on the towel he had used to dry her eyes and pulls his left sleeve up to his elbow to release the drain in the bottom of the bath. The water quickly rushes from the tub, leaving her chilled. Severus once again turns his back to her, but holds out his hand, offering her help out of the now slick bath. She accepts it wraps herself in the towel he left draped along the edge of the bath. Once she has herself wrapped in the towel, he leads her to the toilet and gently presses her shoulders to have her sit before grabbing another folded towel from the shelf behind her and kneeling before her to dry her legs. Suddenly, she feels embarrassment flushing her face at the thought of him seeing the hair on her legs. An odd feeling, considering he had just pulled her nude body from the depths of the bath.

“It is hair, Mi-…It is natural. I will provide a razor next time, should you wish.” Severus stands and holds his hand out to her; she accepts it, and he leads her out of the room and in front of the fire.

Once in front of the fire, Danu spreads her hands in front of her to warm them as water drips from her sopping wet head and onto the floor at her feet. Severus busies himself with something behind her, then is suddenly by her side, pulling something over her head. It is another nightgown, much like the one she had warn before, except in black. She allows him to pull it down to her breasts before she drops the towel she had wrapped around herself to the floor. Once securely over her body, he rolls the sleeves up to her wrists, just as the previous one had been. He grabs the towel he had used to dry her legs and places it over her shoulders so that her hair cannot soak her. He then leads her to the dining table in front of the eerily green window and gently soaks up the water with the towel across her shoulders. Two mugs sit on the table: hot cocoa in front of her, black coffee to the right. Next to each mug is a bowl of oatmeal with raisins, and buttered toast. The portion in front of her much smaller than the other. Her stomach suddenly rumbles, remembering that she had only picked at the oatmeal he had brought her earlier in the day.

“Eat. You are hungry. Starting tomorrow, you will eat something light every two hours. You are dangerously underweight.” Severus states sternly as he gently combs out her wet hair.

The saliva glands in her cheeks constrict and water as she places the first spoonful of oatmeal in her mouth. It is lightly sweetened with sugar, and a hint of cinnamon. The raisins burst in her mouth, and she closes her eyes to relish the sensation. The cocoa is actually hot, and she cringes momentarily, recalling the room temperature cocoa at Bernadette’s. Severus sits next to her and gulps his coffee greedily. She eats slowly and carefully, allowing her mouth to reacquaint itself with the sensation of chewing. Wherever she had been, whatever had happened to her that she did not remember, she had not eaten in quite some time. Despite having a heaping portion nearly tipple the size of hers, Severus finished his bowl of oatmeal, toast, and her own toast she had pushed towards him before she had even made a dent in her bowl. Danu ate half of the bowl of oatmeal and drank a quarter of her cocoa before her stomach became bloated and painful. Severus takes the bowl from her, uncorks a vial of deep purple liquid, and slides it in front of her. Sleeping Draught.

“I don’t want to sleep for another three days.” Danu states as she rolls the vial around and studies the vivid color within.

“You will not sleep for three days.”

“Promise?” Danu looks into his black eyes to ensure his sincerity. He looks exhausted, more so than he did when she first woke that day. He needed the potion more than she did.

“Yes. You slept for three days due to a number of other factors, not because of the Sleeping Draught. Besides, your body needed the prolonged sleep. I assure you; you will not be asleep for three days.”

Once more Severus offers her his hand, and she takes it eagerly. He leads her to the large bed, pulls back the blankets, and helps her climb in. He tucks her in gently, and watches to make sure she drinks the potion he had given her. The effects are instantaneous, and soon she is locked in a dreamless sleep.

Danu jolts from her sleep and panics for a moment, unable to identify the room she is in. luminescent green seeps from beneath the curtains in the far end of the room, reminding her of old black and white horror movies she had been allowed to watch in one of the foster homes she had been in as a small child. She catches sight of Severus, asleep in a chair pulled next to the bed and suddenly remembers that she is back at Hogwarts. Safe.

Severus is slouched down on the chair still wearing the clothes he had changed in to at Spinner’s End before they left or Hogwarts but had unbuttoned the top of his tunic to reveal his neck. His legs are straight out in front of him and crossed at the ankles, both arms rest on his legs, hands turned up slightly. His head is resting on top of the chair, mouth slightly opened, a soft snore escapes his mouth as his Adam’s apple bobs ever so slightly in his neck, his hair is pushed back from his face and dangling behind his head. Had he been sleeping on a chair next to her bed each night that she had been asleep? She had never seen him look so peaceful, so, dare she say, handsome? Severus was not a bad looking man; she had learned that long ago. Now that she was no longer his student, and was legally his wife, she was able to admit that, even to herself. Still though, she could tell that he was uncomfortable in the chair and began to feel guilty for sleeping in his large, comfortable bed. Slowly, she eases herself from under the blankets and carefully makes her way to him. She grabs his hand and gently shakes him; he stirs with a grunt and looks up at her angrily.

“Why are you out of bed?” He asks, looking down at his watch. “It is one in the morning. Go. To. Sleep.”

“You can’t sleep there.”

“I was not asleep.” Severus snaps and scrubs his face with his hands.

“You were snoring. You were asleep.”

“Just get in the bed.”

“I won’t sleep if I know that you’re sleeping on a chair. You have to teach on Monday. You need to get actual sleep. Please.”

“If I sit on the bed, will you sleep?”

“If you sleep on the bed, I will sleep.”

“Very well.” Severus sighs deeply and heaves himself from the chair with a groan, she hears his knees and ankles crack as he stands.

Severus helps her back in bed, crosses to the other side, and lies on top of the blankets. He crosses his ankles just as he had in the chair and raises one arm to cover his eyes. He is asleep within moments, clearly exhausted, and resumes his snoring.

She is safe.

Chapter Text

The first memory Severus had was holding a wet rag to his mother’s swelling eye after his father had punched her for burning his toast one morning. He was five, maybe six years old. Tobias Snape was a despicable man, incompetent father, and violent husband.

Tobias Snape was the reason Severus never wanted to marry, never wanted to father a child. The Snape name would end with him. He could not risk becoming his own father, and father before him, he could not risk his potential offspring becoming him either. The Snape bloodline was cursed. Until he met Lily, there was not a single happy memory in his short, tortured life.

Severus loved his mother, even if she was indifferent towards him. She didn’t dote after him, and he couldn’t recall a time she had ever held him or told him that she loved him. She took more than one beating for him, warned him when Tobias was in the worst of moods, got him out of the way to spare him. One morning when he was ten, he dropped a bottle of milk in the kitchen while rushing to get ready for school. Money was tight, food sparse. That milk was supposed to last all week, but it was only Tuesday, and it already had a sour smell to it. Eileen gasped, then grabbed him by the collar of her blouse that he was wearing because he had no other clothes that were clean or fit and threw him out of the house. That evening, she was sporting a busted lip, handprints on her throat, and a large black eye. She told Tobias she had dropped the bottle of milk. She took that beating, and many more, for him. Eileen taught him everything that she knew, from spells and curses to potions and Gobstones. Severus knew more curses and counter-curses his first year than most seventh years did, all thanks to his mother. He invented many spells himself, again, all thanks to his mother. The two of them would lock themselves in her bedroom any time Tobias would leave the house, she would tell him all about Hogwarts, Azkaban, Diagon Alley, the manor she grew up in. She would pull her old, warn wand from beneath a loose floorboard and let him hold it, she would give him a stick from the tree out front and have him practice the wand movements over and over again. Eileen saved him, gave him something to work with. He repaid her, the last time he spoke to her, by telling her that she deserved everything Tobias had ever done to her. That one sentence, the shattered look in her eyes, was one of his biggest regrets in life. Just another thing on the long list of things he wished he could take back. In his darkest dreams, that very sentence was what finally broke her after everything she had endured, and ultimately lead to her death. Severus was just as responsible for her death as Tobias was.

What Eileen saw in Tobias, Severus would never know, or understand. She had everything; a strong pure-blood family with riches that would take several lifetimes to squander, parents who weren’t physically abusive, and magic. Eileen was powerful and talented, she had potential, a chance at life. While not conventionally attractive in the eyes of many others, she could have married into any pure-blood family and lived a long, lavish life. Instead, she somehow met, procreated with, and married a Muggle man that would be her ruin. Perhaps it was rebellion, even a lapse of judgment, either way, she lost everything when she fell pregnant with Tobias Snape’s child. Severus was not that child, his mother was nineteen years old, a bride of three days, and five months pregnant with her first child when Tobias Snape kicked her in the stomach, causing her to lose the first of several pregnancies. Eileen would later state that Severus was the only one destined to be strong enough to withstand Tobias.

Severus did not know for certain how many times his mother had been pregnant, but he remembered the last one clearly. He was thirteen years old, shortly before Christmas she had written to him at Hogwarts and instructed him to take several ingredients from Slughorn’s closet. Severus obliged, and on his return to Spinner’s End that holiday, the two of them brewed the potion in secret. Eileen gulped it greedily, and he held her hand as she writhed and sweated in bed. The next morning, he took the bloody sheets to the river, filled them with stones, tied a knot in the top, and sunk them in the filthy water. She was rendered barren after this, and he was thankful. No longer would there be any risk of another innocent child coming into that house. Severus never told anyone about that night, not even Lily.

Severus Prince, Eileen’s father, his namesake, threw her out of the house with only the clothes on her back when he learned of her association with Tobias. Lenora Prince, her mother, supported him fully. Severus Prince died shortly after disowning his only child, and Lenora followed the summer after Severus’ seventh year. He tried to find her, to build a relationship with her, show her that he was worthy. He never got the chance; she was gone by the time he found the home and was greeted at the door by Gringott’s officials who had come to auction off all of the collections within the extravagant manor. The heaps of gold he knew to be lining the Prince family vault at Gringott’s was donated to The Protection of Pure-Blood Lineage, the manor and collections were auctioned, and the proceeds lined The Dark Lord’s pocket in Lenora’s will. Everything was gone.

The Protection of Pure-Blood Lineage was an organization founded by Lenora and her likeminded pure-blood housewives. They used scare tactics and firsthand testimonials to frighten wayward children copulating with Muggles. Hs own face, he later found out, was the poster child for said organization. His grandmother knew about him and mocked him openly for his looks and lack of money. She never would have accepted him, never would have given him a chance. It would have angered her that he had adopted the Prince name as his own years prior, not made her proud as he had imagined in his head. He never referred to himself as The Half-Blood Prince again, because he was not a Prince, and never would be. The last remaining members of the organization all died of old age shortly after.

Elspeth Snape saved him. Elspeth was Tobias Snape’s mother, Spinner’s End had been her dream home, and in her time, the home and neighborhood were quite handsome. Both fell into destitution and destruction before long. Elspeth died during childbirth when Tobias was five years old, the child passing shortly thereafter. Elspeth had been an avid reader, and her husband, Callum Snape, however abusive he was physically, bent to her every whim and bought her anything her heart desired. She had the large bookshelves built in the parlor and filled with books. Tobias, while hating the act of reading himself, also loved his mother. The books on the shelves were the only things safe from his wrath, and thus, were strictly off-limits to Severus. That didn’t stop him, though. He had a thirst for knowledge, a desire to be better. Severus would sneak a book, rearrange the ones near it, and Tobias never found out he had touched them. He had read every single book in that house by the time he was seventeen years old. Elspeth unknowingly created a life-long love for reading for her grandson, gave him an escape into worlds that were not his own.

January nineth is a particularly cold and wet day, it was also Severus’ thirty-sixth birthday. He had lived fifteen long, lonely years longer than Lily had. He was five years shy of the age his own parents were when they died. Severus never expected, nor had he planned, to live this long. He sits across from Sirius Black, staring into the grey eyes that were shaped exactly like his daughters. The arch of his brow echoed onto her own face when she smiled, the sharp cupids bow of their upper lip was attractive when she spoke, menacing when it was coming from her father. Sirius knew of Albus’ plan to have him attempt to marry the girl to get her out of Malfoy Manor, and was not pleased, to say the least.

“The plan will go through tonight.” Severus sneers, daring Black to object.
“You harm her a-”
“And you will do what? Hmm? Do you have a better plan? I am all ears, Snuffles.”
“She is my child, Snivellus!”
“Oh, is she? I had forgotten due to your lack of urgency or compassion when it came to her whereabouts!”

Potter chooses now to finally get his thumb out of his ass and come downstairs to meet him. The boy walks in and eyes both of them suspiciously.

“Sit down, Potter.” Severus orders an attempt to break the tension building between the three of them.
“You know,” Sirius begins loudly, leaning back in his chair and attempting to assert dominance, “I think I’d prefer it if you didn’t give orders here, Snape. It is my house, you see.”

Severus sneers at Black before turning his attention to Potter who was seating himself next to Black.

“I was supposed to see you alone, Potter, but Black-”
“I am his godfather,-”
“Oh, I have not forgotten the father portion of that statement, Black.” Severus grits his teeth and attempts to give Black a menacing sneer. “I am here on Dumbledore’s orders, but by all means, stay, Black, I know how you like to feel…involved.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Sirius shouts as he lunges from his chair, sending it crashing to the floor.
“Merely that I am sure you must feel-ah-frustrated by the fact that you can do nothing useful for others.” Severus puts extra emphasis on the final word and curls his lip in triumph. “The headmaster sent me to tell you, Potter, that it is his wish for you to study Occlumency this term.”

“Study what?” Potter asks blankly, the intelligence of his father shining through.
“Occlumency, Potter. The magical defense of the mind against external penetration. An obscure branch of magic, but a highly useful one.”
“Why do I have to study occu—thing?” Lord, the boy just becomes more and more daft with each passing year.
“Because the headmaster thinks it a good idea. You will receive private lessons once a week, but you will not tell anyone what you are doing, least of all Dolores Umbridge. Do. You. Understand?”
“Yes. Who will be teaching me?”
“I am.” Severus raises an eyebrow at Potter, daring him to object.
“Why can’t Dumbledore teach Harry? Why you?” Sirius interjects aggressively, Severus turns and curls his lip to him once more.
“I suppose because it is a headmaster’s privilege to delegate less enjoyable tasks. I assure you I did not beg for the job.” Severus rises to his feet in an effort to leave, his Mark burns, alerting him to make way to Malfoy Manor. His stomach drops an instant, but he does not let it play on his face. “I will expect you at six o’clock on Monday evening, Potter. My office. If anyone asks, you are taking Remedial Potions. Nobody who has seen you in my class could deny that you need them.” Severus makes his way to the door, eager to leave, but is stopped as his arm reaches the knob.

“Wait a minute.” Severus turns and sees Black sitting tall in his chair, about to do something ignorant.
“I am a busy man, Black. Unlike you, I have important matters to attend, and I do not have unlimited leisure time.” Severus grips his wand tightly in his pocket as Black rises from his chair, gripping his own wand in his fist.
“I’ll get to the point, then. If I hear you’re using these Occlumency lessons to give Harry a hard time, you’ll have to answer to me.”
“How very touching. Surely you have noticed that Potter is very like his father?”
“Yes, I have.” Sirius stands taller, a proud look on his smug face.
“Well then, you’ll have noticed that he is so arrogant that criticism simply bounces off of him.

Sirius throws his chair to the ground once more and strides towards Severus, that crazed Black look he knew all too well plastered across his face. Severus’ eyes dart from the tip of his wand and back to his face, calculating which curse he could throw to block the one Sirius was intending to throw. Severus produces his own wand, he was ready. Potter yells something, but he can’t be bothered to listen to the boys ramblings. It goes on like that for several moments, both throwing insults and dancing around in a circle, each daring the other to act first. Potter stands between the two, as if he could stop what was about to come. Sirius yells for Potter to get out of the way and pushes him back several feet.
“Cured!” Arthur Weasley shouts as he storms into the room. “Completely cured!”

Severus gives Sirius one last smirk and makes his way towards the door, past the smiling faces of Arthus and Molly Weasley. He pauses once, the burn in his arm becoming more pronounced.
“Six o’clock Monday, Potter.” Severus reminds him once more, then rushes from the house before he can be stopped.

The girl looked nothing like Lily in her current state. Her face is hollow and pallid, her eyes bulging from the sockets from fear and starvation. Her hair, while once sleek and wavy, was dull and lifeless. She looked more like an Inferi than a living, breathing person. Still though, she was beautiful in a haunting sort of way. Perhaps it was her will to live, the trust she had for him, or perhaps it was only that he knew what she looked like prior to her imprisonment. She did not deserve what happened to her, nor did she deserve being married to him. Once it was all over, he would release the girl from the bonds of their marriage and give her his blessing to pursue whatever her heart desired. The marriage was Albus’ idea, just like it was his idea to call what had happened to her an “accident” instead of just telling the poor girl the truth. For whatever reason that only Albus knew, it was also decided that they would lie to the girl about how long she was unconscious. It was not, as Albus has led her to believe, three days. It was nearly four long, grueling weeks where she would wake randomly in full panic. Thrashing, screaming, throwing things. She was crazed, possessed, a true Black. Not that he blamed her, she had been through so much. Her eyes would not focus on anything, they were blank and dead. She had no idea that it was him and Albus that she was fighting; she believed she was back in that dank cellar prison at Malfoy Manor. Severus admired her ruthlessness in the moment. Had she had access to her wand, she would have been lethal. The girl was truly terrifying in that state. Outside of her broken fingernails, all of the injuries she currently sustained were entirely either self-inflicted or were a direct result of Severus and Albus holding her down to pour potions down her throat in order to control her. The physical damage Amycus Carrow inflicted healed within her first two weeks at Spinner’s End, while the mental anguish would last a lifetime. Perhaps Albus was not entirely wrong in calling her injuries an accident after all.

The weeks that followed her removal were brutal and exhausting. Severus barely managed an hour or two of sleep a night before she would wake and release her anguish and terror on to him. Each morning at daylight, Albus would arrive to sit with her while Severus brewed the Calming Draught, Sleeping Draught, Dreamless Sleep, and Healing Draught it took to care for her. Next he would hold her down as she fought him, while Albus poured the potions down her throat, and he clamped her mouth shut with his hand until she swallowed. Several times she bit him, always drawing blood. Afterwards he would rush to Hogwarts to teach his lessons, his mind on her and Albus’ safety the entire time. Severus would rush back to Spinner’s End after his normal lessons to administer another round of potions to the girl, then suffer through nearly two hours of dealing with Potter and his Occlumency lessons. Finally, he would return home a final time and prepare to do it all over again. February ninth at 11:42pm, Albus suggests they admit her to St. Mungo’s under a pseudo name. He has given up on her.

“It would appear that the Cruciatus Curse was far too much for her mind to handle, Severus. It has been weeks. I do not see her recovering from this.”
“Give her more time, Albus.”
“It has been nearly a month. I do not like to have this conversation, but we are torturing the girl each and every day. She does not see us, does not recognize us. At St. Mungo’s, they will have the means to care for her without frightening her.”
“Then bring me Potter’s invisibility cloak and I will handle it myself!”
“When is the last time you slept more than two hours? You are beginning to slip. Minerva sees it, Flitwick sees it, it is only a matter of time before Umbridge sees it. You will unknowingly reveal something to Voldemort. You need to take a step back from this. You need rest.”
“Whether I like it or not, she is my wife. I made a commitment.”
“I admire your perseverance Severus, truly, I do. But you and I cannot go on like this forever.”
“Just a few more days, Albus.”

Albus leaves him there, alone with the girl. He does not return the next morning as he usually did, he did not have the opportunity to brew her potions. Suddenly, the girl is awake and screaming. His stomach drops as he grips his wand, terrified that he would have to use it on her if he could not control her. She thrashes and flails in the bed, arms outstretched and reaching towards anything she can grip and hurl at him. Her eyes are open but unseeing, an unnerving sight. She makes to leave the bed; he tries to stop her, and she beats against his chest with clenched fists. Severus cups her cheeks in his hands tightly and shakes her gently, desperate for her to see him.

“JUST LOOK AT ME, PLEASE! LOOK AT ME!” He shouts in her face, desperate for anything to break through to her. Suddenly, her eyes focus and she’s looking right into his eyes, seeing for the first time in a month what was truly before her. Severus pulls her against his chest as she grips his sleeves. A deep groan escapes her lips, and he realizes that she is hyperventilating.

“Breathe.” He whispers against her hair as he rocks her in his arms like a child. “Just breathe.”

Severus finds himself in his kitchen tearing the cupboards open to find where the hell he kept the tea in his own home. Finally, he finds the mint tea he had been searching for and puts a kettle on while he sits down at the small table to write a note to Albus.

Awake.
Calm.
Come as soon as possible.

Severus snaps his fingers and Dobby appears before him. He could not send this not through owl as Umbridge had the mail interjected. Dobby takes the letter and smiles up at him brightly before disappearing. The kettle whistles, starling him slightly. He pours her a large mug of peppermint tea, makes himself a cup of instant coffee, and prepares a simple bowl of oatmeal for her.

February eleventh, nine-thirty in the morning, they are back at Hogwarts and the girl is asleep in his bed, her body curled against his own under the blankets. She convinced him to lie in the bed next to her, and he obliged. His back was aching, his knees killing him, and his brain so exhausted from sleeping in a chair by her side for a month. Severus resists the urge to get under the covers, pull her as tightly to him as he possibly could, and sleep the rest of the day away. The marriage would need to be consummated, and soon, The Dark Lord was already asking questions, he knew that it had not been done. Severus could only make excuses for so long, and he dreaded the day he would need to tell the girl that it must be done. Instead, he drags himself from the bed and heads down to the kitchen to deliver the feeding schedule he had carefully developed throughout the previous day. Dobby would be the one to bring her food to her every two hours and sit with her to ensure she ate every bite. Under no circumstances was Dobby to acknowledge that he knew her or answer any questions she may ask.

Weeks 1 and 2
9AM- Peppermint tea, oatmeal, buttered toast
11AM- Milk, plain crackers, nuts, fruit
1PM- Apple juice, chicken broth, rice with butter, buttered bread
3PM- Milk, half peanut butter sandwich, nuts
5PM- Apple juice, one hardboiled egg, rice with butter, fruit, cheese
7PM- Milk, half peanut butter sandwich, fruit
9PM- Ginger tea, plain crackers, fruit

Weeks 3 and 4
9AM- Peppermint tea, milk, scrabbled egg with cheese, buttered toast
11AM- Milkshake, peanut butter sandwich
1PM- Apple juice, roasted potatoes, fish, bread with butter
3PM- Milk, fruit, nuts
5PM- Apple juice, grilled chicken, roasted veg with butter, bread with butter
7PM Milkshake, pumpkin pasty, rice pudding
9PM- Ginger tea, fruit, peanut butter crackers

The girl is awake and standing in front of a bookcase, running her hands along the warn spines when he returned carrying a tray with tea, oatmeal, and toast for the girl, and coffee, oatmeal, and toast for himself. Severus places the tray on the dining table and pulls the curtain back slightly, checking to see whether the giant squid was near, it was not. He had hoped it was, the girl may be interested in seeing it. The squid was always his favorite aspect of the Slytherin common room. The girl still stood near the bookcase, but was now facing him, her hand still absent mindedly stroking the spines of the books.

“You may read whatever you wish. You do not need to ask.”
“Thank you, Si-….Severus.”
“Come. Eat before it gets cold.” Severus sits himself, busying himself with spreading jam on to his buttered toast.
“Is it creepy?” Severus looks up from his toast to see the girl still standing by the bookcase, eyes fixed on the crease between two curtain panels.
“A bit…eerie perhaps, the first time you see it. Come, see for yourself.” Severus places his hand on the curtain, ready to open it for the girl when she pales and shakes her head aggressively. He pulls his hand away and holds it up to her, an attempt to show her that he would not open it. “Very well. Sit, eat.”

The girl timidly makes her way to the table and sits next to him, eyes glued to the curtain as she carefully takes the tea in her hands and sips it.

“I did not expect you to have a fear of The Black Lake. I have seen you sit near it many times.”
“I…I just don’t want to see whatever lives down there.”
“The only thing you can really see is the giant squid, and that’s only when it’s stuck to the glass. It’s much too murky. Occasionally a fish might swim right up to the glass, but not often.” Severus looks over to see her eyes as wide as saucers as she tries to digest the fact that you could actually see the giant squid from the very window she is to sleep next to. “Don’t open the curtain if you are frightened of it.”

Severus finishes his meal in silence and watches as the girl picks at hers, pushing globs of now congealed oatmeal around her bowl. She once again pushed her toast towards him, he pushes it back to her and glares at her, hoping to get the point across that she must eat all of it. After nearly an hour, she finishes most of the bowl and takes several bites of her toast. He is satisfied with the progress and allows her to get up from the table and choose a book while he lights a fire. When she has chosen the perfect book, she takes a seat in one of the large chairs he had moved to the room for her to use. Severus plucks his own book from his bedside and joins her before the fire. If this were the extent of their marriage, he would have no complaints.

“Can I see Luna?” The girl asks, timidly. Severus runs his hands down his face and sighs. He had explicitly told her that no one could see her there.
“No.”
“Why not?” The girl closes her book, pulls both legs into the chair, and hugs them to her chest. Severus closes his own and looks her in the eye.
“I told you; no one can know that you are here. Miss Lovegood included.”
“I just want to see if she has Bram.”
“I will ask Miss Lovegood tomorrow.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Very well.” Severus sighs, leans his head against the back of the chair, and pinches his brow between thumb and middle finger, a headache creeping in.
“Have we….did we-”
“Today, please.”
“Have we…..consummated our marriage?” Severus opens his eyes to find the girls face a deep shade of red, her eyes glued to her hands knotted in her lap.
“No.” He answers shortly.
“Will we have to?”
“I do not know.” Severus lies, unable to tell her the truth. Unable to tell her that The Dark Lord was aware that it had not been completed. Unable to tell her that he was afraid of what would happen to them both if He should decide that it had taken them too long to do so.
“Why did you do it?”
“Do what?”
“Marry me.”
“Do not make this harder than it needs to be. Read your book.” Severus picks up his own book, hopeful that she will get the hint and just stop talking.
“It’s not because you care for me, is it? It’s because Dumbledore told you to.” Severus looks into her blue eyes as they filled with tears. He wished he could wrap her in his arms, tell her that he did care for her, but not in the way she deserved to be cared for, for he did not love her. She deserved a husband who loved her, worshiped her. That was not him. “Why didn’t you write back last summer? I wrote to you. You never wrote back. I thought we were……well, something like friends.”
“I was your professor.” He states, trying desperately to resist the urge to snap at her.
“I know that. I just….I missed you is all.”

Never did he expect those words to come from her lips. Severus had missed her, too. He missed the way she snorted ever so slightly when she laughed hard, the way she could match his quick wit and sarcasm, how easily she bounced back when discouraged. He missed how happy she became when he slid a book to her, how excited she was when they discussed it together. He missed brewing potions with her, the way a strand of her hair sometimes fell into her face, causing her to blow it away with the side of her mouth. Her smirk when she held a freshly bottled potion up to the light. Most of all, he missed the way she smiled up at him each time she walked into his brewing room.

“I do not know what is happening, I know that you and Dumbledore are hiding something from me. He told me not to go opening doors my brain has locked. He told me to trust you. I do, I truly do. But you told me last night that you did not expect us to live as husband and wife in private, which can only mean that we will be forced to do so in public at some point. Yet, you can’t even say my name.” The tears welling in her eyes have gone, replaced with the crazed look he knows all too well in the Black family eyes. It flashes for a moment, then it too is gone. It rattles him for a moment, reminding him of the way Bellatrix looked at him when The Dark Lord told her that he had married shortly after her escape from Azkaban the previous month.

Severus sighs once more, then extends his hand across the distance between the two chairs and places it on the arm of her chair, palm up. An invitation for her to take it, if she wished. The girl locked her fingers with his own and looked into his eyes. He calculated his next words carefully, hoping they were the correct ones to put her mind at ease.

“Everything will be okay, Danu. You mustn’t worry. It may seem as if you are left in the dark regarding certain…..matters. I assure you, it is within your best interest. I will do anything within my power to ensure you are comfortable and well cared for. All I ask of you, is that you remember the words Albus spoke to you.” Severus studies her face for several moments, she seems to be relaxed, no longer tensed and full of self-doubt. “I thought of you as something like a friend as well. I am sorry I did not write to you.”

The girl stands from her chair and drops to her knees before him, she wraps her arms around his neck and lays her head on his chest. Severus cups the side of her face in his hand and holds her tight to him and kisses the top of her head. She smells like his soap and not of her usual coconut shampoo and cocoa butter that seemed to cling to his nostrils whenever she was near.

Chapter Text

“I do not care what you do, so long as you are quiet while you do it!” Severus snaps at the girl, perhaps a bit too harshly. She scampers off to the other side of the room and begins chopping ingredients on the small dining table in front of the tightly closed curtains.

She was growing bored, rightfully so. She had been stuck in his living quarters at Hogwarts for the better part of two months. The plan had been to have her stay there, only until she had healed and gained a bit of weight, and then return her to Spinner’s End, but then Albus was fired by the Ministry, making Umbridge the new headmistress at Hogwarts, and it was far too risky to move her. The two were getting on one another’s nerves. Severus, unused to living with another person full time, her unused to hiding out in a professor's bedroom every moment of her life, both of them unused to married life. Admittedly, he had been speeding less time in the room due to this, which pushed her further into isolation.

Severus tried to make her as comfortable as possible. As soon as her weight reached what it had been prior to her imprisonment, Severus went alone to Diagon Alley one Saturday morning and purchased an entire wardrobe and new wand for her. He purchased things he had seen her wear before, corduroy jumper dresses, striped jumpers in every color imaginable, turtlenecks, stockings, flowing dresses. He bought her undergarments, nightgowns, personal hygiene products, and even a small brewing kit to keep her occupied during the day and had his grandmother's gold wedding band sized down to fit her. He could not bring himself to give the ring to her, yet. The girl was appreciative, but he couldn’t help but notice the way her face fell when the realization that she would continue being trapped in this room dawned on her. She had gone from one prison to another, and for this, Severus held deep regrets.

Dolores Umbridge’s tyrannical reign has only worsened with the absence of Albus. When he wasn’t teaching a highly scrutinized lesson, he was escorting yet another mass group of students into the Dining Hall for the make-shift detention area. Only Umbridge was allowed to be present during these detentions, but he knew what was going on in there by the amounts of students sporting deep gouges on the backs of their hands the next day in class. Severus did what he could to deter her by providing vials of water under the guise of Veritaserum, but there was no stopping her. Thankfully, he no longer was forced to teach Occlumency to Potter, not after the little brat breached his privacy by looking in to the Pensive in his office.

Severus leans back in his chair before the fire and brings the lit cigarette to his lips. While not outright complaining about his smoking, the girl did wrinkle her nose and move to the far end of the room each time he lit a cigarette. It was a nasty habit, but the only thing keeping his nerves in check these days. He watches as the girl chops mandrake root, lavender, and lemon and stews them in honey in the lit cauldron before her. She is making Cough Potions for him to bring to Madam Pomfrey to treat students suffering from springtime allergies.

“Did you always want to be a professor?” She finally asks him, turning her head in his direction as he takes one final drag from his cigarette, he inhales deeply and holds the smoke in his lungs.

“No.” He states plainly, his voice husky from the smoke held in his lungs, he allows the smoke to slowly escape from his parted lips as he stubs the cigarette out in the ashtray perched on the arm of the chair.

“Why do you do it, then?” Her hair is tied up in a loose bun, soft curls escape at random and frame her face. Severus watches as she blows at a strand dangling in front of her mouth, sending it waving above her head before softly floating back down again.

“Because, despite what many of your fellow classmates would like to believe, I am good at it.” The girl turns and grins at him, the smile reaching her eyes for the first time in months.

“How did you become so good at potions?” Severus watches the slow turn of her elbow from behind, she only has a few more moments left to stir, then she will bottle the contents, and with any luck, she will smirk as she holds the bottles to the light.

“You speak entirely too much.”

“Who else am I supposed to talk to?” She shrugs her shoulders and turns her head to grin at him once more.

Severus sits in silence for several seconds before finally taking a deep breath and closing his eyes. He leans his head on the back of the chair as he kicks off his shoes and warms his feet in front of the roaring fire. It has been a long day, and an even longer week. He is thankful that it is the first day of Easter holiday, and he won’t have to teach for another two weeks, but several students remain in the castle despite Umbridge’s presence, and he is dreading having to pry himself from this chair in a few short hours to begin his midnight patrol. He had hoped to catch a short nap, but it proved to be impossible with her in the room. Severus is exhausted.

“My mother taught me.” Severus finally answers, he opens one eye and catches her eyeing him over her shoulder with one brow raised.
“Your mother is a witch?”

“No, she was a Muggle who happened to know how to brew potions.”

“You could have just said yes.”

Severus watches closely as she fills each vial to the brim, secures the top with a cork, and holds it up to the lights to check her work. One vial, two, no smirk. Five, six, seven, still no smirk. Finally, on the eleventh vial, he watches as the corner of her mouth twitches ever so slightly before turning up. He closes his eyes again, thankful for the smallest bit of progress.

She was not herself, and he doubted she would ever be again. She was a storm far out in the sea, strong and violet, but oh, so beautiful. He was impressed by her strength and resilience, weary of it as well. When he told her that she could not go to St. Mungo’s as she had planned, he had to take her wand from her. She hadn’t threatened him, nor herself, but the rage that flashed across her face screamed for him to be cautious, to tread very carefully. He could subdue her in an instant, if need be, she couldn’t even preform non-verbal magic, but he did not want to have to do that.

Severus heaves himself from the chair with a groan and makes his way to the desk opposite the girl and pours himself a large mug of black coffee from the silver decanter he now kept in the room.

“Will you make me one, too? I’m almost finished labeling these vials.”

“It is too late for you to have caffeine.” He states dryly but begins stirring the sugar into her mug.

While he had always taken his coffee black, she preferred hers with two sugars, a touch of vanilla, and as white and creamy as the skin on her neck. The two meet in front of the fireplace, and he passes her mug before they both settle into their preferred chairs.

“Thank you.” She wraps her hands around the steaming mug and inhales deeply. “I like the way you make it.”

“I make it the same as you make it.” Severus takes a deep gulp from his cup, burning the tip of his tongue in the process, and leans his head once more on the back of the chair.

“Is your father a wizard?”

“Why must you talk so much?” Severus sighs and opens his eyes to see her staring at him, a mischievous look on her face. “No. He was a Muggle.”

“So, you are a half-blood, too?”

“Tell me, how long did it take for you to work out the definition of a half-blood?”

“I thought Slytherin’s were meant to be pure blood?”

“While I was led to believe Ravenclaw’s were meant to be intelligent. Yet, here we are.” Severus gestures towards her with his mug and smirks, to his surprise, she smirks back at him.

“You aren’t nearly as frightening as you used to be. I think you are beginning to lose your edge.” She grins at him over the rim of her mug before taking a sip.

“You are much more aggravating than you used to be.”

“It’s different out there, isn’t it?” She nudges her chin towards the door, whether she was referring to Hogwarts, or the world as a whole, Severus did not know.

“Yes.” He whispers, wishing he could lie to her.

She takes another sip of her coffee and tucks her legs beneath her in the chair. Severus extends his hand across the distance of the chairs and allows her to take it. This had become their evening ritual, holding hands before the fire while sipping tea, or in tonight's case, coffee. He knew she would wait for him to come in from his midnight patrol, as she did every Friday night, and fall asleep next to him in the bed. Severus had suggested he have two twin sized beds moved into the room, but for whatever reason, she refused. She starts out on her own side of the bed each night, but he wakes every morning in a tangle of her hair and limbs, her warm body curled against his own. Each morning, he wraps his arm around her waist, kisses the top of her head, and pries himself from the bed to begin his day, all while she remains snoring. She wakes sometime between his morning shave and shower; eyes and lips swollen and pink from sleep, hair a wild nest of knots and soft waves. To Severus, the moments after she first wakes are when she is the most beautiful.

The two of them still had not consummated their marriage, and The Dark Lord’s patience with the matter was growing thin. Severus had made his excuses, and for a while, they worked. Now, however, He was beginning to doubt Severus. The Dark Lord issued him a final ultimatum; admit that she was too weak to be his wife and hand her over, or finally go through with it.

Severus had begun reading up on the subject in private whenever he could. The fact of the matter was, he was a virgin. He knew, of course, how it worked, he was not naive, he needed to know how to best pleasure her. The thought of actually preforming many of the acts he read about made his face heat with embarrassment, and he crossed them off of the list. This would only happen once; he did not need the theatrics involved with many of the positions he saw. Between classes he brewed a contraceptive potion and stashed it in his sock drawer; he would not risk any chance of children in this marriage. The mere thought of taking her in that intimate way made him feel guilty. He was nearly twenty years her senior, she was barely an adult. Only nine months ago she was his student for god’s sake! He knew she was not a virgin, Amycus Carrow made it a point to mention it every time they saw one another. He was furious at Severus for taking what he believed to be his own. Still though, it had to be done, and before the end of Easter break.

It is 3:34 when Severus finally enters the door to find his wife wide awake, a book resting on her knee in the same chair he had left her in hours before. She was freshly bathed, her hair still damp, and wearing the emerald green silk nightgown he had purchased for her; the color vibrant and striking against her pale complexion and intensifying the red color of her hair. She smiles up at him warmly as he makes his way to the bathroom to change into his own night shirt and brush his teeth. His eyes burn with exhaustion, his feet and back ache from standing all day, reminding him that he is no longer a young man. After changing, he finds that she has beaten him to bed, and is snuggled beneath the blanket facing his side of the bed. She had lit the candelabra on his side of the bed but had extinguished the rest of the candles in the room and smoldered the fire. Severus pulls the blanket back and climbs in, sighing deeply when the pressure releases from his lower back as he relaxes before extinguishing his candelabra, plummeting them into near total darkness. The only light was the soft, green glow emanating from beneath the closed curtains on her side of the bed.

“Many troublemakers tonight?” She whispers in the dark, he turns his head towards her, his eyes not yet adjusted to the dark.

“It was quiet.” He whispers back to her, barely making out the outline of her face in the darkness.

“Good. Goodnight, Severus.” She whispers before turning over to face the opposite direction.

Severus lies awake, arms tucked beneath his head, staring up into the darkness, too exhausted to sleep. The girl, however, had no issue falling asleep and has now backed herself up completely against his body, snoring slightly. Suddenly she rolls over and presses her front tight against him and slings one arm across his chest. He takes his arms from beneath his head and wraps them around her. He is asleep before he knows it.

Slowly, Severus opens his eyes. His body is melted into the mattress, his brain blurry with sleep. Before him, the girl sleeps on, her head tilted ever so slightly up to him, mouth slightly open. His arm heavy and throbbing from being stuck beneath her head. He slides it carefully from beneath her, rolls on to his side to face her, and pulls her in to his chest. She smells of coconut and the acidic sting of morning breath, but he does not mind. He kisses her forehead and rests his chin on top of her head.

“Good morning.” She murmurs, causing him to jerk slightly.

She wraps her arms tightly around his waist, not allowing him to pull away from her. Finally, he relaxes and melts back into her body. Her body is warm and soft, and he feels himself begin to harden involuntarily. He attempts to quell it, to breathe deeply and relax his mind, to no use. Finally, he angles his lower half away from her, desperate for her not to notice. She instead takes this as an opportunity to gain even more space and warmth in the bed, and scoots further into him.

“How did you sleep?” She whispers again, her voice heavy with sleep as she yawns deeply.

“Go back to sleep.” He urges, desperate to get himself under control before she takes notice of his early morning urges.

Suddenly, she lifts her head from the crook of his neck and lays it on the pillow next to his own, their noses almost touching. She looks deeply into his eyes, and before he can stop it, kisses the tip of his nose. Severus had always been self-conscious about his looks, his nose primarily. Why she should chose there, of all places, to land her lips was beyond him. He’s taken aback, but she smiles shyly at him, softening his fear and paranoia. Her eyes are as blue as the sea, the sky above him on a beautiful summers day. The outer rims of her iris’ glint a striking yellowish color that webs out into her pupil, he had never noticed this before, he had never stared into her eyes so intently before. He swims in the depths of her eyes, when she leans forward and presses her lips against his. They are plump and soft, and taste slightly of sleep. Panic flashes through his mind briefly before he closes his eyes and leans into her, before he knew it he was kissing her back, their mouths opening slightly to great each impact.

She moans against his lips, the sound sweet music to his ears. He rests his hand on her warm, supple thigh and rubs the seam of her nightgown between his thumb and forefinger. Her kisses become more passionate, more forceful, she swipes her tongue across his bottom lip, then sucks it between her own, eliciting a deep moan from his own throat. Timidly, he moves his hand further up her thigh, pushing the silky fabric of her nightgown with it, and removes his lips from hers. She pants and rolls over on her back. Severus props himself up on his elbow as she arches her back and pulls the thin nightgown above her head, throwing it to the floor. He looks down at her body in awe, her skin milky and soft, her nipples erect, he places his lips behind her ear and kisses down to collarbone, his hand traveling from her thigh to her ribs. He swipes his thumb across her nipple, she moans once more as she brushes the hair from his face and tucks it behind his ears. She grips the thin fabric of his own nightshirt and tries to pull it off, but he stops her, not wanting her to see the Mark on his arm. Instead, he pulls it up to his hips and rolls on top of her, looking down into her eyes. He moves back to her neck, flicking her skin ever so slightly with the tip of his tongue, which he found brought the biggest reaction from her.

“Do you….would you like to continue?” Severus whispers against her neck, right below her ear.

“Yes.” She pants, gripping his shoulders tightly and arching her body into his stomach.

Severus reaches down and grips himself with one hand and rubs himself against her, spreading both of their juices. He lines himself up and carefully nudges the head inside of her, the softness and warmth of her already proving to be much more intense than he had anticipated. Finally, he is fully inside of her, struggling to keep from spilling before he had even started. He had masturbated, he wasn’t a Monk, that feeling was much different than this. This was all consuming, almost too intense to handle. Severus looks into her eyes, looking for any sign of regret or discomfort. Her eyes are closed, cheeks flushed, lips slightly parted and swollen from kissing him. Finally, he begins to move in and out of her as he buries his face in her neck. He moans deeply each time he buries himself fully inside of her.

Everything he had read in the book was suddenly fascinating. The acts and positions he had previously believed to be too embarrassing to preform now made perfect sense to him. He wanted to explore every inch of her body, needed to taste her most imitate areas, needed to feel her reactions. One thing he had read about was clitoral stimulation and had been interested in it since reading the chapter on how to preform it. Severus runs his hand down her side and reaches between their bodies to press the pad of his thumb against her swollen clitoris. The sounds this simple act illicit from her as she squirms and wraps her leg around his waist are enough to push him over the edge. He moans deeply against her neck as he fills her with his semen, just as she clenches around him and digs her fingernails into his back.

Severus rolls off of her and lies on his back, eyes closed, the feeling of removing himself from her leaving him hollow. It had been done, he no longer had to worry about performing. Now, however, he lies next to her feeling guilty and self-conscious. Had he done it correctly? Had he hurt her in some way? Finally, he opens his eyes and looks over at her, she’s facing him, eyes closed. Her face peaceful, a slight smile on her lips. He rolls on to his side to face her.

“Was that okay?” He asks, clearing his throat.

“It was more than okay.” She answers in a husky tone and opens her eyes to smile at him.

She moves closer to him and wraps her arms around his neck, pressing her forehead against his own. She kisses him gently, her lips nothing more than a feathery brush against his own.

Chapter Text

Danu finds herself in the large leather chair she sits in each night, waiting on Severus to show. Her knees clutched to her chest, eyes boring holes into the solid door, willing it to open. To her knowledge, the door had not opened in six days. On the third day, she spent hours trying desperately to pry it open, with no use. It was sealed tight, and Severus had her wand. He had grabbed her from behind with his strong arms, thrown her to the bed, and pried the wand from her fist after she had tried to use it to open the door.

“Just like your father!” He spit, turning sharply away from her and striding towards the door. Danu jumped to her feet to follow him out, he turned towards her, put his hand against her chest, and pushed her roughly back towards the bed. “Arrogant, conceited, self-indulgent!” Severus opened the door, smirked down at her shocked face, and slammed it.

She did not know what she had done to make him so angry before their fight. The morning she kissed him for the first time, she hadn’t planned it, it just happened. In her half asleep state, she had felt him wrap his arms around her body, kiss her forehead, and hold her tightly against him. It just seemed like the right thing to do at the time. Of course, she had thought about him in that way over the course of several weeks, wondering what his lips would feel like against hers, what his hands would feel like caressing her naked body. Perhaps it was a form of Stockholm Syndrome, or the fact that he was the only living thing she had any connection to day after day for weeks on end. She had not intended for things to progress to the point that they had, but the feel of his lips on her neck sent shock waves throughout her entire body. His hands on her bare skin made her knees tremble, and before she knew it, he was inside of her, and she was clutching on to him for dear life as he rubbed her with his thumb and moaned against her neck. Then it was over, and he held her for a few moments before heaving himself from the bed. He gave her a contraceptive potion and left without a word while she showered. Severus stayed gone the rest of the day, he returned at midnight, and lie in bed facing away from her.

For weeks he avoided her, only coming to the room in the late hours of the night and leaving before she even woke. Not even bothering to show his face at all on the weekends. When he was there, he was cold and distant, he wouldn’t speak to her, wouldn’t even look at her. He found her one evening, sobbing in the bathroom floor, he scoffed at her, left the room entirely, and didn’t come back for three days. She was frightened and alone. She shouldn’t have kissed him, shouldn’t have allowed him to take her body. She had pushed him too far, or maybe it was that he was a disappointment. Perhaps he had been expecting more, something better.

Whether it be desperation or complete disregard for her sanity and well-being that made her take these next steps, she did not know. One Wednesday afternoon in early June, shortly before midnight, Severus was in his favorite chair before the fire, reading that day's edition of The Daily Prophet. He had only recently come in and was doing his best to ignore her. She went to the bathroom, put on the silky, emerald green nightgown that she knew he liked, for he couldn’t keep his eyes off of her whenever she had worn it, and it was what she had been wearing that fateful morning when everything changed. She stood before the mirror that Severus had finally rehung above the sink and took several deep breaths to calm her nerves. The first time may not have been planned, but this time was. She decided days before that she needed to make it up to him. Danu gulped hard and with a pounding heart, left the bathroom.

Severus did not look up from his paper, didn’t even notice that she had reentered the room. Danu tip-toed over to him, and using her index finger, tipped the top portion of the paper down from his face. Severus looked up at her, one eyebrow cocked in what seemed to be surprise, and opened his mouth to say something. Before he could get a word out, she pulled the nightgown up her thighs and straddled his lap, crushing the paper between their bodies. Danu snaked her hand through his silky black hair to cup the base of his neck and planted her lips to the sharp angle of his jaw, right next to his ear. Severus stiffened his body, and before she could land another kiss on his jaw, stood suddenly, dropping her body and the paper to the floor. He towered over her, eyes wide with fury, face contorted in rage.

“What do you think you are doing?” Severus sneered between grit teeth. She tried to answer, but her throat was tight and her mouth dry. She stared up at him, silently pleading with him to tell her why he was so angry with her.

“Pathetic!” He finally spit down at her before pacing to the furthest corner of the room. She trembled involuntarily at the boom of his voice and brought her knees to her chest, not daring to lift herself from the floor.

“You think you can toy with me? Use me for your own sick pleasures?” The coldness of his voice caused her to shrink from him, despite him being clear across the room.

“You’ve not once even thanked me for saving your miserable life!” He bellowed, his voice vibrating her ribs as it echoed off of the stone walls.

“I never asked you to.” Danu whispered finally, eliciting a deep, guttural laugh from Severus. “I’m not sure who you did it for, but it was not me.”

Her voice cracked as the realization that he did not care for her struck her like a ton of bricks. Tears welled in her eyes as she looked up into his horrifyingly angry face. The flicker of firelight illuminating his features only made him look angrier. It amplified the darkness of his eyes as his hair fell in curtains around his face. He sneered down at her, showing his teeth as if he were and angry dog. Every fiber of her being told her to stay down, do not get up from this floor. She disregarded that primal urge to submit to him and stood defiantly. Knees shaking and hands trembling, she faced him from across the room.

“So, you decide to whore yourself off on me instead?” His words a slap to her face, just like he intended them to be. “Tell me, how well did that work for you?”

“I only wanted to make up for the last time. Clearly, you were disappointed.”

“What makes you think I even wanted it the last time?” Severus scoffs down at her.

He is much larger than her, faster, more powerful. He could kill her right now without even lifting a finger and not one person in this entire world would know she was even missing. No one would look for her, no one would mourn her. She was more alone in this room than she had ever been in her life. Her stomach was hollow, and her heart ached at the thought that she truly had no one, if she died right this moment, no one would remember her. At least before, she was in a school full of people, someone was bound to notice her missing, afterwards, she had Madam Rosmerta. Now all she had was Severus, and he hated her guts. She felt foolish, stupid for even thinking he had ever cared for her. Her stomach fell and knotted itself in her intestines.

“Why do you hate me so much?” Danu chokes out between tears.

“Why do you care?” Severus mocks her and smirks as he watches her wipe the tears from her eyes, relishing in her pain.

“Because I love you, you fucking asshole!” She shouts, her face turning red with anger and embarrassment as she clamps her hand over her mouth, eyes widening with the realization of what she just said. The words come out before she can stop them, she hadn’t meant for him to ever hear them, but it was true. She loved him, she had for a long time. This outburst caused Severus’ eyes to soften for a split second before contorting in rage once more.

“It is not my job to resolve your daddy issues!” He shouts at her, a vein popping in his temple with the force of his anger.

“Tha—”

“YOU ARE A CHILD!” Severus bellows once more, taking a step towards her. She flinches, and he backs away.

“Then let me out. Let me open the door and you never have to see me again. I won’t be your burden any longer, you can have your life back. Tell Dumbledore, or whoever, that I stunned you, that you couldn’t stop me.”

“You would be dead before the week is out! Albus is not a simpleton, your plan is as flawed and childish as you are!”

“Why does it matter to you? What are you getting out of this? You can’t even stand me!”

The two of them stare at one another for several moments, fists clenched at their sides and breathing heavily. Danu backs slowly to her side of the bed to retrieve her wand, she only wanted to open the door, to get away from him. Severus darts his eyes between her and the sideboard that held her wand, knowing instantly what she was going to do. He shook his head, and she turned and darted for the wand. He crossed the room in an instant, wrapped his arms around her from behind just as her fist clenched her wand, lifted her feet from the floor, and slammed her harshly on to the bed. Her body bounced from the impact, but she kept a tight grip on her wand. She was face down on the bed with his body pressed against her back, she struggled for a moment, tried to raise the wand above her head to keep it away from his reach, but his arms were much longer than hers and his fist was wrapped around her own in the struggle. He finally pries the wand from her grip and lifts himself from her body, both of them panting and sweaty from the brief struggle.

Now, a week later, she sits alone, replaying that fight in her head. She knew that he knew Sirius Black, that much was clear from the meeting they had the previous summer. Severus had meant the comparison to be an insult, but she felt nothing but numbness. She didn’t know the man, had only met him once. She held no loyalty to him, and certainly did not have “daddy issues” because of him! The fact of the matter was, that she did love Severus. She had loved him since he sent her the copy of The Hobbit for Christmas two years prior. She loved him when he came to check on her every night at The Three Broomsticks, and when he came and saved her when she became stranded in Diagon Alley. She loved him when he held her face in his hand and screamed at her or stealing from him, the thought of him thinking her capable of such a thing broke her heart. She loved him and mourned his absence when he refused to write back to her the previous summer. She loved him when he held her in his arms and rocked her when she first woke in his house. And she loved him each morning when he pulled her against him and kissed her head when he thought that she was still sleeping.

Fourteen days after the fight, Severus burst through the door. His hair disheveled and knotted, dark circles beneath his eyes, and his clothes dusty, wrinkled, and torn in places. She was sitting in her chair, biting the skin around her freshly regrown nails, and thinking of something witty and hurtful to say to him if she ever saw him again. Every word fell away when she looked into his eyes and saw that he had been crying.

“Get up. We are leaving.” He orders as he paces the room, grabbing things at random and tossing them on the bed.

“No.” Danu stated flatly as she continues to chew the skin around her thumb. Severus stalks towards her and looks down at her at what she was sure he meant to be a menacing look, but was actually quite pitiful, her heart nearly hurt for him in that moment, but it did not make up for the anger bubbling inside of her.

“Do as you are told.” He hisses, then turns and continues throwing random items on to the bed.

“You do not own me.” She declares, glaring at him. Her eyes flicker towards the door, but he had been sure to close it securely behind him as he entered.

Severus whirls to face her, and stalks towards her once more. He grabs her wrist and jerks her from the chair in one swift motion. She nearly falls to the floor, but he is faster, and he grabs her by the elbow to steady her.

“I said. We. Are. Leaving.” His teeth are gritted, his face mere inches from her own. Tiny droplets of his saliva pepper her face and she must clench her first to keep from striking him.

“And I said no.” Danu attempts to be firm, but his eyes are sad. They are red and swollen from crying, sagging from exhaustion. She wants to wrap him in her arms as he had done for her, make him feel as safe as he had once made her feel.

Severus put his other arm around her, spins her around forcefully, and pins her arms to her sides with his arms. Danu looks down at his arms around her chest, and through a rip that traveled from elbow to wrist in his black shirt, causing the fabric to lie open like a gutted fish, was the image of skull with a snake protruding from its mouth like a tongue.

The Dark Mark.

Danu gasps and struggles in his arms, desperate to get away. He wraps her tighter, and the world goes dark. Her eyes bulge from her head, her body squeezed tight, her heart in her stomach. It felt like being squeezed through a tube while on a rollercoaster cart.

When her vision returns to her, they are standing in the front parlor of his home. Severus continues to hold her tight as she pants and struggles in his arms. Suddenly, he releases her, and her knees buckle. She grabs the nearest bookshelf for support as she tries to control her breathing. Severus stands like a statue guarding the front door, and she whips her head around looking for another way out. She straightens herself and begins pacing the tiny main floor, searching for any other door to run out of. In the kitchen, she finds a rear entrance and races towards it, behind her, Severus still stands guard at the front door.

“You can try. There is a rather tall garden wall, and a sharp drop directly beyond that. You won’t get out that way.” Severus’ voice rings in her ears as she slings the door open and hurls herself out of it.

The evening sun is too bright, momentarily blinding her, and she must stand still for a moment to gain her bearings. Finally, her eyes adjust, and just as Severus had said, there was a large fence encircling the garden, with overgrown rose bushes growing against them, making climbing the wall nearly impossible. Danu paces the garden for several minutes, searching every inch of the garden wall for a weak spot, a hidden ladder in the rose bushes, anything at all to lead her out of there. On the east side of the wall, barely visible between the rose blooms, is a large flat rock with a crudely carved E. At the base of the rock sat a large bundle of forget-me-not’s; someone had been back there recently. As she stands staring down at the flowers on the ground, Severus’ deep voice booms in her ear from across the lawn, startling her for a moment.

“Stop being stubborn and listen. It is important.” Danu whirls around to find Severus standing in front of the rear entrance to the house, his hands clutched behind his back. The image of The Dark Mark burned into her mind as every ounce of respect she had for him melted away, replaced with fear and betrayal.

“No. I don’t care what you have to say. You’re one of them. I didn’t believe them; everyone at Hogwarts who said you were a Death Eater. I didn’t listen, I thought they just hated you and needed a reason to justify it, so they made up rumors. But they weren’t rumors.”

“Remember what Albus said to you.”

“I DON’T GIVE A DAMN WHAT DUMBLEDORE SAID TO ME!” Danu shouts as she picks up the pacing again. “Does he know? Does Dumbledore know what you are?” She asks, eyeing Severus suspiciously as he takes all of her anger, his face emotionless as she shouts at him.

“Albus trusts me.” He states dryly.

Danu bends at the waste and laughs, a deep, maniacal laugh that she did not know was in her. The sound, the force of it, starling even herself. Why was she laughing? Nothing about this was funny!

“There is something important that I need to tell you.” Severus shouts above her laughter, she straightens herself and looks into his eyes as she wipes the tears of laughter from her own. “Sirius Black is dead. He was killed a week ago.”

“My father is dead, and you wait a week to tell me?” Was all that she could manage. The weight of him even being her father had not even sunk in, and this was the first time she had ever even brought herself to call him anything other than Sirius, even in her head. She did not feel the soul crushing sadness that so many people experience when losing a parent, she did not feel the urge to cry, nor was she angry. She was simply numb.

“There were things Albus and I had to take care of. I did not want to keep it from you.” His eyes are soft, kinder than she had ever seen them. His eyes flicker between her and the stone with the E carved in it.

Severus leaves his post at the door and marches towards the stone. He rests his hand atop it, rubbing the warn stone with his thumb as he eyes her. She judges the distance between him and the door, calculating how long it would take her to reach the front of the house. And go where? She had nowhere to go. Danu admits defeat and plops down in the dry grass in the garden.

“There is one other thing. He left everything to Harry Potter.” Severus spits his name out as if it were an insult. She didn’t care about any of Sirius Black’s things, didn’t want a damn thing in that house. All she ever wanted from him was to accept her as his own, and in the end, he couldn’t even be bothered to do that. “I did manage to get one thing for you while Albus and I were at his home.”

Severus reaches into his pocket and produces a thick, tattered piece of paper. Carefully, he holds it out in her direction, and ever so slowly creeps towards her. When he finally reaches her, she snatches it from his hand and watches as he slinks back to the stone once more. The paper was actually a photograph of a young red-haired woman smiling down at a small baby in her arms. It was the photograph that Sirius had told her about; the one her mother had given to James Potter to give to Sirius.

Only the left side of her mother’s face was visible in the photograph, Danu clutches the left side of her own face as she studies her mothers. This was the first time she remembered seeing her. As a small child, a blurry image of her danced through her dreams, but nothing ever concrete, nothing ever identifying. She looked so much like her it almost drove her to tears. She had her mother’s deep blue eyes, her high cheek bones, the exact shade of red hair, and freckles peppered her skin. She had Sirius Blacks deep cupid bow, but Rose Evans full bottom lip. The tips of her ears belonged to Sirius, but her chin came from Rose. What little of Rose’s fingers that were visible also resembled her own, and Danu removed her left hand from her cheek to study it compared to her mother’s in the photograph.

“I have to find her.” Danu whispered, more to herself than to Severus.

“Okay.” Severus answered warmly, and she looked up to see him sitting next to the stone, legs stretched on the ground in front of him, staring at her intently. “When this is over, I will help you.”
“Why?” She asked accusingly, cocking her head to study him in the light of new revelations.

“I do care for you. I am sorry I was…cruel.” His eyes were still swollen, but no longer red. His face no longer contorted in anger had smoothed the crease in his forehead.

“How can I trust you now?” She asked, gesturing towards his left arm that he was absent mindedly gripping.

“Remember what Albus said to you. What I said to you. I will not harm you.” Danu scoffs at his words, but does her best to soften her face, recalling exactly what Dumbledore had said to her that day so many months ago.

“This is my mother.” Severus breaks the silence and jerks his head towards the stone he was seated next to.

“What is her name?” She asks, looking into Severus’ eyes for any hint of emotion.

“Eileen.” He sighs as he runs his fingers through his tangled hair. Danu crawls towards him in the dirt and sits on the other side of the stone, not minding the thorns from the rose bush tearing at the bare skin on her arms.

“That’s a pretty name. Was she a good mother?”

“She….did her best.”

Danu accepts this answer and looks one again at the photograph she held in her hands. She tried desperately to remember what kind of mother Rose was but could not. Severus extended his hand across the dry, brown grass and left it palm up next to her thigh. She took it, as she always did when he allowed her this small bit of intimacy and gripped it tightly.

The two sit in silence as they watch the sun begin to set. Bugs dance high above their heads, a dunnock cries in the distance, and finally, Severus sighs deeply before standing to his feet, not daring to release her hand from his grasp. He pulls her to his feet, releases her hand, and wraps her in his arms. He smells of dust and dirt, and it tickles her nose. Severus kisses the top of her head, before reaching down and taking her hand once more. He leads her into the house and sits her at the small kitchen table. Severus begins riffling through the cupboards and closing them when he finds them empty. He opens the yellowing refrigerator, and slams it shut when the smell from inside permeates throughout the room.

“I will shower, and then we can order out. There’s nothing here. Tomorrow, we can go to the shops, if you would like.”

“We?” Danu asks, looking up at him with a confused expression on her face. She was under the impression that she would not be allowed to leave the house.

“Yes. You and I. It’s a bit late for it tonight, so we can just order out. Pizza, burgers, whatever you would like.” He runs his hands through his hair again as he leans against the counter, looking at her expectantly.

“I—I don’t know. Whatever you want is fine.”

“Okay. I will shower quickly. If you make a decision, let me know.” Severus makes his way out of the small kitchen but pauses briefly in the doorway and turns back towards her. “Please, do not leave.” He pleads, his voice sounding small, it cracks on the last word.

Chapter Text

After Severus had showered, he offered her his arm, she took it and allowed him to lead her out of the house. While she had grown up in Cokeworth and had been sent to live in homes in almost all of its districts, she had never been to the neighborhood of Spinner’s End. It looked like every other neighborhood in Cokeworth, and she never understood why it got such a bad rap with the locals. In fact, hardly anyone seemed to live on this side of the river at all. On the street Severus lived on, all of the other homes had boarded windows and doors that were nailed shut, the outsides holding the appearance of long-term neglect and abandonment. His was the only home even occupied. As they walked three blocks down the cobblestone streets, and across the bridge with the rusty handrail she had gripped countless times, she knew exactly where they were heading: a small fish and chip shop by the bank of the river.

Severus leads her inside of the shop, the overwhelming scent of used grease and fish almost enough to make her go back out. It was after nine at night, and the shop was empty of customers, it didn’t take long to receive their meal. Severus paid, grabbed their paper bag of food, and offered his arm once more. Four blocks down from the fish and chip shop was Bernadette’s, and directly across the road was a small, unkempt park where she would play each day as a child, even in the dark its large oak tree towered over the rooftops and was visible from where they stood. Danu stops for a moment and stares up at it, wondering how it could feel taller to her as an adult than when she was a child. Severus looks down at her, takes note of what she was looking at, and gently tugs her arm to follow.

Danu and Severus sit across from one another at the small dining table, in the equally small kitchen. The house as a whole is clean but holds the musty scent of a home that sits abandoned for months on end. The plaster walls are cracked and dingy, and all of the furniture wildly outdated and mix-matched, but it is cozy; it is now her home. Danu could imagine herself cooking meals here, decorating for the holidays, even tending to the rose bushes in the back garden. Perhaps Severus would allow her to grow herbs, maybe they could have a cat of their own. Severus clears his throat and pulls her from her daydream. She looks up at his standing above her, one eyebrow raised in question, she hadn’t even notice him stand. He gestures down at the plate before her with his chin, and she nods her head, allowing him to take it from her and scrape the contents into the garbage can next to the garden door. Severus fumbles with something in the cupboard for a moment and comes back with two long stemmed wine glasses and a bottle of something blood red with a wax seal on top. He breaks the seal and pulls the cork below; a sweet scent fills the air as he pour two large glasses and takes his seat once more across from her.

“I’ve never seen you drink.” Danu states, accepting the glass he was sliding across the table to her.

“I do not drink. It has simply been a long year.”

Danu lifts the glass to her lips and takes a small sip. The sweetness and alcohol content causing her to scrunch her face and suck air through her teeth. She runs her tongue over her gums to take away the numbness the alcohol had caused and looks to Severus who was making an identical face.

“It is very sweet.” She giggles slightly at his reaction and takes another sip of the wine, not wanting to waste it. The second sip proved to be a bit smoother, but still overpowering.

“Elf-made. Very strong, and much too sweet. It was recommended by Albus. I should have known, though. He has always had a sweet tooth.”

“People actually enjoy this?” She asks, watching as Severus attempts another sip, but quickly admits defeat and pushes the still full glass away.

Severus makes a noise in the back of his throat indicating his own confusion in the matter. He stretches his left leg out to the side of the table and reaches deep into his pocket for something. He produces a small box wrapped in a simple white paper, a small red bow sitting neatly on top. He places it before her and begins playing with his wine glass, placing the stem between his pointer and middle finger and cupping the base gently with the pads of his fingers. They both watch as the liquid inside waves and sloshes around as he pushes the glass gently back and forth. Danu takes another sip of her wine and reaches for the box tentatively. Inside is the ring he had placed on her finger the day she was told that they had been married; the ring that belonged to his grandmother, Elspeth.

“I intended to give it to you on your birthday, however—” Severus trails off, not finishing the sentence as he watches her carefully remove the ring from the box and slide it on to her finger.

Her birthday had passed the first days following their fight. She spent it trying to pry the bedroom door open before finally admitting defeat and crying herself to sleep. It was only her nineteenth birthday and had proven to be the worst. The ring, however, is simple, yet elegant. The thin band was a perfect contrast to her long, feminine fingers, and fit well. She admires it while twirling it around her finger slowly with the tip of her thumb.

It had been only hours since she had learned that he was, in fact, a Death Eater. She still held reservations with the matter and found sitting across from him doing something as simple as eating dinner to be unsettling. She did trust Dumbledore, and he asked her to trust Severus. She had given him her word, told him she would look past anything she may see or hear in the coming months, this, however, was not something she could have seen coming. What if this was something even Dumbledore didn’t know about? Her heart hammers for a moment before sinking to her stomach with the realization that she was a half-blood; and not just any half-blood, she was the half-blood bastard of a known blood traitor. Him, the people like him, thought her to be worse than scum, worse than the garbage that flowed down the dirty river through the heart of Cokeworth. If Dumbledore had meant for him to be her protector, he must know something she did not, for surely, he would not put her life in the hands of a person who would want her and anyone like her annihilated. Suddenly, she remembered that Severus was also a half-blood, and everything made a lot less sense. How could he be a Death Eater if he himself weren’t of pure blood?

“Thank you.” She finally whispers, not daring to look up at him. “I’m sorry I made you…..uncomfortable.”

Severus does not answer. The only sound in the room comes from his constant twirling of the wine glass on the dining room table, and the sloshing of liquid from within. She reaches her own glass and drains the contents, stifling a gag as the sweetness mingles with the fish and chips in her stomach. The wine is strong, and after only one glass her body feels heavy. Her cheeks are hot and pink, and her lips are stained a deep rose color. She lifts her eyes to Severus and finds him studying her with one brow raised, still toying with the wine glass in front of him. She attempts a kind smile, but knows it must seem forced, because he lowers his brow and creases his forehead before sighing and lighting a cigarette. He attempts to blow the smoke away from her, but an unseen draft causes it to smack her directly in the face, blurring her vision and causing her nose to itch. The intense scent of cloves fills the room and clings to the inside of her nostrils.

“Why do you smoke?” She coughs, using her hand to wave the cloud of smoke away from her face.
“I admit, it is a terrible habit.” His voice husky from smoke held in his lungs. Danu watches as he slowly releases a long wisp from his nostrils and brings the cigarette once more to his lips.

“Does it taste like cloves, too?” Danu asks, suddenly curious. She had never smoked before, but she had also never drank elf-wine, or sat across the table from a Death Eater.

“It is a clove cigarette. So, yes, it tastes like cloves.” Severus replies, his voice thick with sarcasm.

“Can I taste it?” She raises her own brow at him, just as his pops up in response to her question.

Hesitantly, he passes the lit cigarette across the table to her outstretched hand, she takes it between her two fingers as she had watched him hold it countless times. She brings the filter to her lips; it is warm and slightly damp from the inside of his mouth and inhales a bit too deeply for her first time. Immediately she regrets asking. The initial taste is sharp and harsh, tasting nothing like cloves. She coughs hard as the smoke hits the back of her throat and is momentarily unable to catch her breath. Coughing aggressively, she passes the cigarette back to him and shakes her head. Severus smirks as he takes it back, before abruptly laughing at her red face. The after taste of the cigarette was now clove like, but still had a disgusting acidic taste that she assumed was the tobacco. The clove portion of it numbed the inside of her mouth, while the tobacco burned the back of her throat. Severus slides her his wine glass, she takes a healthy gulp and swishes it vigorously around in her mouth before swallowing. Severus finishes the rest of the cigarette in silence before stubbing it out and blowing the final bit of smoke from his lungs, he leans back in his chair and looks at her, his expression softer than she had seen it in a long time.

“I grew up in Cokeworth.” Danu finally says.

“I know.”

“I’ve never been to this neighborhood before.”

“I would not have expected you to have been to this neighborhood.” Severus answers between yawns, his voice deep with fatigue.

“Why not?”

“It is empty. Not many families live here anymore. Not any that can afford to take on a child that isn’t theirs, anyway.” They sit in silence once more before Severus clears his throat.

“I was not disappointed.” Danu raises her brow, unsure of what he was referring to. “You accused me, the last time we saw one another, of being disappointed. I was not disappointed.”

“You accused me of a lot of things.” She states plainly, not trying to antagonize him, but curious to see where he was going with the conversation. “You also said you didn’t want it the first time.”

“We both said things we did not mean. I—”

“I can’t speak for you, but I for one, did not say anything that I did not mean.” Danu glares at him, daring him to dismiss her claim.

“Very well.” He sighs, dragging his hands down his face before looking at her once more. “I am nearly an old man. Much too old for you.”

“Yet, here we are.” Danu glances down at the ring on her left hand for emphasis.

“Yes. Here we are.”

Danu stares into his coal colored eyes or a moment. She thought them to be beautiful, mysterious and forbidding. The stark contrast between his porcelain skin and black hair and eyes was unique and mesmerizing. She found him to be unconventionally attractive, what others used to mock him behind his back, she thought to be his best features. His nose, for instance, was the butt of many jokes during her seven years at Hogwarts, she shuddered even now thinking about them mocking it. His lips, while thin, held the power of making her knees weak, whether that be by fear of his harsh tone and quick wit, or the way they had felt against her own. A shiver runs down her spine as she recalls the way they had felt against her neck.

“Would you like to go sit in the next room?” Severus asks, dragging her from her thoughts.

Danu nods and follows Severus to the next room. To her surprise, the two leather chairs had been removed, replaced by a threadbare sofa and a matching armchair. In front of them was a small round table, a recently polished silver tea set in the center. She hadn’t noticed the change furniture during her hunt for an escape earlier in the evening. Severus busies himself with lighting candles throughout the room as she sits on the sofa, it is much more comfortable than its appearance had led her to believe.

“What happened to the chairs that were here before?” Danu asks as Severus takes his place on the armchair next to her.

“We will have….company starting tomorrow. I had them moved to the attic. I thought you would prefer the sofa, more space to stretch your legs. You have them tucked under you in the chair far too often.”

“Company?” She asks, raising her brow at him under the dim flicker of candlelight.

“Yes.” Severus sighs, creasing his brow in the process. “Wormt—Peter Pettigrew will arrive tomorrow afternoon and reside here until it is time to return to Hogwarts in September.”

Peter Pettigrew. She knew that name, was certain of it. She just could not put her finger on it. Was he a Death Eater, too? Her face must register her internal fear and confusion, because Severus reaches out to her and gently pats the back of her hand resting on the arm of the couch.

“Do not fret, he will stay out of the way. You will hardly know that he is here. I will not allow any harm to come to you.”

“Promise?” She asks, looking into his soulful eyes as he looks into her own.

“Yes.” Severus squeezes her hand gently as he rubs the back of her hand with the pad of his thumb.

“I thought you weren’t going to come back.” Danu whispers as she lowers her eyes to watch him rub the back of her hand. His hands are large and strong, nearly twice the size of her own.

“There was business I needed to tend to. I apologize for keeping you waiting.” His large thumb still danced along the back of her hand, the sensation causing goose bumps to rise all across her arm.

“I’m glad you came back.” Danu whispers, prying her eyes away from his hand caressing her own to look into his eyes once more.

The swelling from his tears had long since gone down, but the sorrow behind them still remained in the dim candlelight. She wonders briefly what he had been crying about, and why he had chosen to allow her to see him after doing so, when it was clear that had been. Danu looks back down at their hands and becomes momentarily lost in the swirl of Severus’ thumb drawing soft, tight circles on the back of her hand with the pad of his thumb. It was lightly calloused from years in the potions room, but warm and comforting.

“Can you cast a Patronus Charm?” Severus asks, his voice deep and silky.

“No?” Danu phrases her answer as a question, curious as to where he was going with the conversation.

“A Patronus is the most famous, but also the most difficult defensive charm. It is the only spell effective against Dementor attacks, but it may also be used as a messenger between two—”

“I know what a Patronus Charm is, I never learned to cast one.”

“What exactly did they teach you for five years in Defense Against the Dark Arts?” Severus asks, his right eyebrow raised in emphasis.

“Well, you see—”

“That was rhetorical.” He smirked, removing his hand from hers to light another cigarette. “I will teach you this summer. It should not be hard, so long as you are better at that than you are at non-verbal magic.”

Danu stands and begins to survey the books lining the walls. They are old, bound in rich browns and faded black leathers. The spines of some beginning to crack due to age, the titles of others beginning to fade away. There were authors she had never heard of, titles she had never seen. Severus watches as she makes her way around the room, her finger trailing the cases as she moved, not daring to actually touch the books.

“You may read whatever you like. Do try to be careful though, they are rather fragile.” Severus stubs his cigarette and leans back in his chair, watching as she slowly makes her way back to where she started, bending occasionally when a book catches her eye.

“It must have taken you ages to collect all of these.” Danu sighs, finally daring to reach out and stroke the rich leather spine of The Libertine by Charlotte Dacre before finally releasing it from its place on the shelf and bringing it back to the sofa with her.
“I cannot take credit for these.” Severus gestures towards the shelf with his left hand, the fingertips of his right rubbing the fraying seam of the chair's armrest. “This was my grandmother. My collection at Hogwarts, however, took many years to build.”

“Have you read all of these?”

“Yes. There are several that I have read more than once.” Severus runs a hand down his face, then rubs his eyes with the pads of his thumb and middle finger before pinching the bridge of his nose as if he had a headache. “There is a television in the attic. I can have it brought down if you would like.”

“No, it’s alright. I didn’t watch television that often.”

“Good. They drive me mad. Muggles, especially today, are far too reliant on them for entertainment.”

Danu smiles warmly at him and watches as he absent mindedly continues to caress the seam of the chair's armrest. She places the book on the small round table in front of her, no longer interested in reading at the moment. Severus is unusually chatty this afternoon, and she will not miss an opportunity to explore his brain a bit more.

“I do not usually keep any food in the house, outside of oatmeal or coffee. I am not here often enough to warrant it. We will go to the shops tomorrow. Make a list, and we can purchase anything that you like. I have noticed that you are quite fond of fruit, keep in mind that we may have to venture outside of Cokeworth to get anything as fresh as you are used to at Hogwarts.”

“I know what the shops here in town are like.” Danu reminds him, gently. “Do you like to cook? I did a lot of it last summer. I can cook some, if you would like.”

“I have no opinion on the matter. I’m sure any utensils or appliances you would need are in the kitchen cupboards. Use anything you wish; I will purchase anything that’s missing.”

Danu places her hand on the sofa’s armrest, and without thinking, Severus places his own back on top of hers and picks back up rubbing the back of her hand with the pad of his thumb.

“Why did you say those things to me if you didn’t mean them?” Danu asks timidly, still looking down at their hands, her heart hammers in her chest, afraid of what his answer may be.
Severus sighs deeply and removes his hand from hers, her heart stops for a moment, terrified he will become as angry with her as he was that day, she nervously knots her hands in her lap. Instead, he places his index finger beneath her chin and lifts her head to look into his eyes. His eyes are gentle and warm. She should be angry with him still, terrified of what he was, but she wasn’t. She wanted desperately to trust him, to feel as safe with him as she always had. If Dumbledore trusts him, she could trust him.

“I apologize for the things that I said. I do not want you to feel as though you are indebted to me. You must not think that you—we do not have to have that sort of relationship. We did what we needed to do, and that could be the end of it. Do not feel as though you need to continue making advances towards me to please me, because I assure you, I do not require it.” Severus leans forward in his seat and rests his elbow on the arm of the sofa to reach for her hands knotted in her lap. He squeezes them gently but does not move back.

“I did not assume that you required it. I didn’t do it strictly for you, either. I—I enjoyed the first time. I thought that you hadn’t.”

“Whether I enjoyed it or not is of no importance.” Severus scoffs, still leaning over the arm of the sofa.

Danu turns her head to look into his eyes, and abruptly kisses the corner of his mouth. Severus stiffens but does not pull away. Cautiously, she kisses him again, softer this time. Severus parts his lips slightly, but still does not pull away. Danu removes her right hand from under his and runs her fingers through his soft hair, leaving her hand to cup the back of his head. She rests her forehead against his and closes her eyes, breathing in the scent of him. Bergamot soap, clove and sweet elf-wine on his breath. Severus inclines his head slowly, his nose rubbing against the side of hers, and timidly kisses her upper lip. She takes this as an invitation to continue and climbs across the arm of the couch to straddle his lap. Severus clenches his fists on the arm rests, leans his head back against the chair, closes his eyes, and groans deeply. Danu runs both of her hands through his hair and cups his head gently.

“Look at me.” She demands, Severus obeys, his coal colored eyes opening slowly to gaze in to her own, they burn with an unrecognizable emotion. “I meant what I said. When I told you—when I said that I loved you. Maybe I shouldn’t, but I do.”

“No, yo—” He begins, a deep line forming between his brows.

“Don’t say anything. I just wanted—needed you to know that I meant it.” They stare into one another’s eyes, Severus nods slightly. “I can do it, you know. Leave in the middle of the night while you’re sleeping. You won’t even have to know when. You can forget to lock my wand away, leave it out on the table. You’re good at acting, good at hiding your emotions, no one will have to know that you knew. If I get caught, you can pretend that you’re just as surprised as everyone else. If I die, then…well, I die. Just say the word, and you can have your life back. You’re all that I’ve got in this entire world; you’re my only friend, my only companion. Hell, you’re my only family, but I won’t force you to continue with this—with us, if it isn’t what you want. I know that you only did this because Dumbledore told you to, and I don’t know why, I won’t ask why until he is ready for me to know, but—but I’m giving you a say in it now. I’m giving you a choice.”

Tears sting her eyes as she looks down in to his, she sets her jaw and inhales deeply, desperate to prove that she is strong. Severus opens his mouth slightly as if he is about to speak but inhales deeply himself. They stare at one another, Severus with his fists still clenched on the arms of the chair, her hands still cupping his face. She remains on his lap, her chest pressed against his, his heart beating against her own. If someone were to look in on them from the cobblestone street, they would think it an intimate moment between two people madly in love.

“I do not want you to leave.” Severus finally whispers, his breath warm on her face. “You did not have a say in this matter, either. For now, I cannot give you a choice. When this is over, you can go anywhere, do anything that you wish. You will have the answers to all of your questions. I will ensure it.”

With her heart hammering in her chest, Danu kisses him passionately. He leans into it, welcomes each kiss with the same greed that she delivers. She can feel his heart pounding against her own, feel the labored breath from his nose on her cheek. She moves one hand down to his shoulder, the other buries itself in his thick hair.

“Do you want me to stop?” She breathes between kisses.

“No.” Severus moans, his voice deep with desire.

“You can touch me.” She removes her hand from his shoulder and guides his clenched fist to her thigh.

His hand is strong and warm as he slowly unclenches his fist and plants it on her upper thigh, he slides his hand beneath the thin fabric of her dress to cup her waist. She removes her hand from the back of his head and blindly fumbles with the buttons on his robe, trying desperately to free his neck to give him the same sensation he had given her when he licked and kissed her there. He reaches up and pops the first four buttons effortlessly, freeing his neck entirely. Danu removes her lips from him and watches as he leans his head back on the chair, his eyes are closed and he swallows hard, his Adams apple bobbing in his throat. The hand that had so expertly unbuttoned his robe snakes around her body to rest on her lower back, he moans deeply when she licks just below his earlobe before taking the soft skin ever so gently between her teeth. He tasted of soap, with the faintest hint of salt from their earlier walk to the shop. She can feel him harden beneath her with each pass of her tongue, his hand gripping her waist tight enough to leave marks.

Suddenly Severus places both hands just below her rear, and stands, lifting her body with his. Before she can protest, he has her pinned against one of the bookshelves, one leg wrapped around his waist, the other searching desperately for a place to land, her elbows propping her up on a shelf behind her. She tilts her head back as his mouth contacts her neck, his teeth scrape down the length until he reaches the base and swipes his tongue across the length of her collar bone. She arches her back and moans as he kisses and licks every inch of her neck, his hands gripping her rear end tightly. He lifts her once more and is on the move again, she nibbles his earlobe, a deep moan coming from his throat as he carries her up the stairs.

Severus drops her abruptly on the edge bed, her knees bent and dangling from the end, kicks his shoes off, and stares down at her, propped up on her elbows and biting her lower lip as he slowly unbuttons the rest of his robe with his long, nimble fingers. He pulls his arms from the sleeves, folds the robe, and places it on the vanity. He is left in a white button up and his trousers, his erection prominent without the robe draping over his body. He places his hands on her thighs and slowly moves them up her body, pushing her back on the bed as he makes his way up. Her sundress is bunched around her waist before he has enough and pulls it over her head and tosses it on to the floor. His attention is back on her neck, his body pressed against hers, one hand smoothing her hair from her face, the other tickles her back as he tries to unclasp her bra. Danu arches her back and reaches around to unclasp it for him, his weight leaves her body, his lips leave her neck, leaving her chilled and wanting. She pants and tries to sit up, he presses her back down on the mattress and slowly peels her bra from her chest, leaving her only in her panties. He stares down at her nearly nude body for a brief moment, then bends to take her left nipple in his mouth as he massages her right breast in his hand. Danu arches her back, pressing herself tightly against him, and wraps one leg around his waist. She moans and squirms beneath him as he sucks at her breast, the sounds coming from her throat unrecognizable to her ears.

He alternates between sucking and nibbling gently at her breast, the sensation is intense, sending chills throughout her entire body. She reaches between their bodies and tries pulling at the white button up he still worse, desperate to feel his skin against her own. He releases her breast with a soft pop, wipes his mouth on the back of his hand, and oh so slowly unbuttons his shirt, his black hair hanging in curtains around his face as he stares down at her. She pants and trembles as he folds it, just as he had before, and places it neatly on the vanity with his robe. There is a thin trail of black hair that leads from below his trousers to just below his navel. Fine black hairs circle his nipples, brown moles pepper his milky white skin. His body is graceful, his muscles pronounced on his slim frame. Danu bites her lip and watches as his erection springs up when he pulls his trousers down his body, leaving him standing before her in nothing but a pair of white underpants. He kicks them off of his feet and places his knees on the bed, pulling her body up to the top with him.

Once he has her propped up on the pillows he buries his face in her neck once more, sucking and biting as she cries out for him. She brings her leg around his waist and presses down with her thigh as she grinds herself against his erection, desperate for any kind of friction. Severus moans at her attempts to pleasure herself against him and kisses his way down her chest, between her breasts, and finally finishing at her stomach, she can feel his hot breath just above her navel as he finally pulls her panties down. She shimmies and squirms until she can hook one heel around them and push them off completely. Her hands are knotted in his hair, tugging gently as he kisses his way back up her body, teasing her and turning her into a writhing animal.

After what feels like an eternity, he reaches between their bodies to cup her sex with his large hand, she jerks her hips into it, desperate for any contact. He circles her opening with his middle finger as he sucks her nipple, her feet are planted on the bed, her back arches desperate for him to just take her.

“Please. Severus. Please!” She begs over and over again as he moans against her breast, the vibrations coursing through her body. “I need you, Severus, please.”

He removes his mouth from her breast and crawls up her body to look into her eyes, in one swift motion pulls his underpants down, grips himself, and presses into her, giving her exactly what she wanted. She throws her head back, opens her mouth wide, but no sound comes from her throat. The feeling of him finally being inside of her too much for her mind to process. He presses his face into her neck as he rubs her clit in tight circles, her legs squeeze him to her. He keeps a slow pace at first, but quickly picks up pace as her moans become louder. Before long, she comes undone beneath him, screaming his name loudly as she digs her fingernails into her back. A few more pumps and he finishes inside of her with a deep growl. They lie like that for what feels like hours, him still inside of her while they both try desperately to catch their breath, the orgasm that coursed through her body leaving her boneless. She smooths his hair from his face as he pants against her neck before rolling off of her and throwing his arm across his face.

“Thank you.” Danu whispers as she rolls against his body and slings her arm across his chest. He makes a sound that she believes to be a laugh in the back of his throat before heaving himself off of the bed and pulling his clothes on. She props herself up on her elbows as she watches him dress, mesmerized by his physique. Once dressed he leans over her on the bed and kisses her forehead.

“Go have a bath. Take a left out of this room, it is the second door. You will find towels in the cupboard. I will be back in a few moments.” And he leaves the room.

Danu makes her way down the hall to the bathroom, and to her surprise, he had bought her an array of bath products and had them lined on the counter. Coconut shampoo, coconut body wash, bubble baths in a variety of scents and colors. She chooses a vanilla scented one and turns the water as hot as it will go. She sinks down into the water, allowing the heat to relax her muscles. Within moments she hears Severus’ boots on the stairs, he knocks gently at the door, and she allows him to enter. He sits on the floor outside of the bath, one arm draped across the baths edge, his fingertips dancing on the surface.

“Drink this.” He demands after pulling a vial out of his robe pocket. “Contraceptive Potion.”

“Thank you.” She whispers. “Would you like to join me?”

Severus contemplates for a moment before standing and undressing once more. She scoots forward as he places one leg on either side of her and hisses slightly as the hot water touches his body. He lets out a deep groan as his muscles relax, and she leans back against his chest. His heart beats against the back of her head, he drapes one arm across her chest, the other rests on the baths edge.

“Thank you.” She whispers as the bursting bubbles sizzle around their bodies.

“For?”

“You said that I never thanked you for saving my life.”

Severus tightens his grip around her chest and kisses the top of her head.

Chapter Text

Severus was fourteen years old the first and only time Lily had ever fallen asleep in his arms. It had been completely platonic; he hadn’t even tried to kiss her. It was summer break, and her parents had gone to the city for the night, leaving Petunia in charge. Petunia was furious and forbade Lily from inviting Severus over, but Lily left her bedroom window unlocked and closed her door, Severus climbed through the window and the two of them giggled and whispered while working on their summer essays and listening to The Dark Side of the Moon album over and over again.

Lily was always in charge of music. Severus had no need for background noise, but Lily did. She knew every word to anything Ringo Starr ever sang, could name every member of Pink Floyd, The Beatles, The Who, The Rolling Stones, and Led Zeppelin. She knew all of the American bands and had somehow managed to get her hands on quite a few albums. She could talk for hours on end about music, and he would hang on to her every word.

Lily’s favorite song on The Dark Side of the Moon album was Time, she would pull the needle from the record the moment the final tune sounded on the song and knew the exact ridge in the vinyl to place the needle to start it over again without even causing it to scratch and jump. Severus wasn’t as good at it as she was, so she rarely put him in charge of replaying the song for her. He was, however, great at changing the vinyl and putting it back in its exact spot on her dresser. His favorite song on the album was The Great Gig in the Sky, but it made Lily sad, so she would only allow him to play it twice any time they listened to it. If he closed his eyes, he could still see Lily singing and dancing around the room that night like it was yesterday. He would give anything to go back in time and dance with her like she had begged him to. Halfway through the first listen of The Great Gig in the Sky that evening, Lily began to sob.

“It’s okay, Lily, we can change it. We can put Time on, we don’t have to listen to this one anymore, really. I don’t even like it that much, honest!” Severus pleaded with her and tried to pry her hands away from her eyes.

“It isn’t that Sev. It’s Tuney. She hates me, she’ll always hate me!” Lily sobbed as she wiped her nose with the back of her hand before falling back on the bed and staring up at the glow in the dark stars they had stuck to the ceiling. Severus laid next to her, and Lily scooted in closer to him before hugging him around the waist.

“I don’t see why you care so much. We’re better than Petunia.”

“Don’t say that Sev!” Lily exclaimed, smacking him playfully on the shoulder. “You don’t get it because you haven’t got siblings. She is—was my best friend.”

“I thought I was your best friend?” Severus whispered, his heart pounding in his chest from having her so close to him.

“You are my best friend. Before, I meant. Before I met you, before I found out about what we are. It was always just me and Tuney.”

Severus couldn’t be sure which of them fell asleep first, he only remembered the sound of Petunia slamming the door against the wall as she barged in, and the ear shattering screech of the record player when she kicked it over. Severus and Lily both jerked from their sleep at sat straight up in bed, Lily scooting over a few inches so she was no longer touching him. Both of their eyes were wide with shock, Petunia’s mouth hung open for a moment before she scrunched her face up as it turned beet red.

“I’m telling Mummy!” Petunia shouted, “I’m telling Mummy you and that Snape boy were having sex!” Petunia bolted from the room and down the stairs.

Missus Evans wasn’t even home, she wouldn’t be until the following morning. This logic didn’t stop Lily from chasing her sister down the stairs while begging her not to say anything. Severus wasn’t sure just how the conversation with the Evans’ went the following day, Lily refused to tell him. He wasn’t allowed to come inside of their house after that, though. Her parents had never fully liked him, they tolerated his presence for Lily’s sake, they downright hated him after that night, and he hadn’t even done anything wrong.

Some mornings, when her head was buried in his neck, and her eyes were closed, he could imagine that his wife was Lily, and he was fourteen years old again, holding her against him while they slept. It was not right, not fair to her to have a life with him. He would never love her, not with the same intensity that he loved Lily. She had told him during a fight that she loved him, she held his face in her gentle hands while looking into his eyes to tell him that it was true. He wanted to shake her in that moment, tell her that she was being unreasonable, but the feeling it gave him made forget everything bad he had done, everything that he must do. It made him realize just how young she is, how full of promise, how much life she had left to live. He was holding her back, he knew that he was, but he had also kept her alive. He knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that she would be dead right now had he not gotten her out of that cellar. Yet, he kept her locked in his private room at Hogwarts for months on end, and in the end, couldn’t even be bothered to go to her. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see her, because God knows he did. It was because he could not look into her eyes knowing that he was the man who would kill Albus Dumbledore in less than one year.

Four days after the death of Sirius Black, Albus called him in to his office. His was weak, on the verge of death. His hand was blackened and useless. Severus tried every counter-curse he knew, brewed every potion he could think of, was desperate for a fix, but it was no use. They both knew that Albus had waited too long to show him. He had contained the curse to his hand, to the best of his ability. Why did he put the damned ring on? Albus was smarter than that; he knew better, goddamn it!

Albus knew about The Dark Lord’s plan to have Draco kill him; the plan was set in to motion the very night of the failure of the Ministry. Severus went straight to Albus, told him every detail of the plan, and the man knew that he was ill, knew that it would not be Draco that would be killing him, yet he waited days before filling Severus in on that little detail. He couldn’t return to his wife after that; at first it was due to the fight, he would not lie about being more than a little irritated with her. When Albus finally told him his plan, he went back to Spinner’s End and sobbed for what felt like days. When word got out, and it certainly would get out, Severus would lose everything. The friendship he had with Minnie, the trust of The Order and fellow Hogwarts staff, and the love of his wife.

All for Lily.

Draco received his mark only hours after his father’s arrest. The boy was terrified, rightfully so. His wife should have received hers the very same night. The Dark Lord was growing suspicious, no longer trusted the same line Severus fed him week after week. He knew that she was not as ill as Severus led on. It was due to this suspicion that The Dark Lord employed Wormtail to spy on him in his own home.

The Dark Lord delivers Wormtail to his home shortly before nightfall on their second day back home. The night before, Severus had slipped out of bed in the wee hours of morning to brew Weakness Potion while his wife slept. With the protection of the Bubble-Head Charm, he had been able to pop the cork on the vial to poison his wife before she woke, and then sporadically throughout the day as he awaited The Dark Lord. She had no idea that it was him that had been making her sick as she moaned in bed, too sick to call for him, too weak to pry herself from her pillow.

As The Dark Lord entered his home and looked around the small parlor, Severus could hear his wife’s moans from the floor above. The Dark Lord looked at him accusingly, then pushed his way past him and up the stairs. Severus followed closely behind, not daring to protest, and pushed Wormtail back down the stairs when he attempted to follow. The Dark Lord had his hand on his wife’s forehead when he entered the room, making a tisking sound as he trailed a finger down her sweaty face. She truly looked the part; her already pale skin had taken on a yellow tone, her lips were slightly blue tinged, and she was sweating profusely. There was no doubt that she was truly suffering in that moment.

“Such a shame.” The Dark Lord whispered to no one in particular before turning to Severus. “Such a lovely girl.”

“As I said, My Lord, she has her days.”

“You have the patience of a saint, Severus. It has been months.” He produces his wand and uses the tip to turn his wife’s face as she moans in protest, her eyes remain closed, unaware of who is moving her. Severus stiffens, terrified of what He will do to her.

“It is only that I know her potential, My Lord. It would be a shame to….waste it.”

“I expect the plan to go through this term, Severus. It was your idea, after all. I am trusting you with it. I want her in Hogwarts. It is vital for our success.”

“Yes, My Lord. She will be there.”

Severus takes a deep breath as he hears The Dark Lord depart, locks Wormtail in the attic where the rat will remain for the duration of the summer and returns to his wife. He sits by her side, rummages in his pocket for a vial, and gently cups her head in his hands as he pours an Antidote to Uncommon Poisons down her throat. She moans and shivers, but comes to before long, grasping his cloak as if her life depended on it.

“Severus,” She moaned as she clutched his sleeve, “I don’t feel so good.”

“You have been quite ill today.” He pulls her against his chest and tries to smooth the hair from her damp forehead when he notices her face begin to turn green.

He barely gets her head turned before she vomits all down his legs, feet, and the floor. The smell of it burning his nose and causing him to heave along with her. Severus lies her back in bed while she whines her apology, then produces his wand tucked into his sleeve to cast Tergeo on the mess before changing his trousers. He makes his way back to her side to kiss her forehead, her color was slowly returning, another dose of Antidote to Uncommon Potions was not needed.

“How are you feeling? Would you like some tea?” He whispers to her as he smooths the hair from her face once more.

“I’m so sorry, Sev.” She whispers between her dry, crackled lips. Her breath reeks of the acidic stench of bile, he backs away several inches.

“Do not call me Sev.” Severus snaps at her; Lily was the only person to have ever called him Sev, and he was not about to allow her Doppelganger to call him by the same name. Her eyes widen for a moment at his outburst but calm once he pats her hand with his own. “It is alright. You are ill. I’ve given you a drought. You will begin to feel better shortly.”

A week passes as they begin to settle into a daily routine. Severus offers his bride his arm at precisely eight each evening and leads her down the cobblestone streets for their daily afternoon walk. He feels a sense of pride with her on his arm as people stare at them. She is utterly beautiful, and his is….him. On more than one occasion, Severus had attempted to bring her into a shop, but she clung to his arm and shook like a frightened child at all of the people inside. He could hardly get her out of the door before she would begin to hyperventilate and tense up. It was the third time when she began to tear at her hair that he decided the ordeal stressed her entirely too much and took on the shopping alone, while she was safe at home and Wormtail was locked in the attic. He theorized that her outbursts were due to months being locked alone at Hogwarts, and her subconscious protecting her after her ordeal with Carrow. At any rate, he would need to slowly acclimate her back into society before allowing her to be thrown into the bustling life of Hogwarts.

It was near the middle of their second week at home, it was a dreary, wet day, which meant they could not go on their evening stroll around the river. True to her word, his wife had taken to cooking them a meal almost every evening, this night was no different. She had spent the majority of her evening cooking them a delicious pot of potato soup, and they ate together in near silence. Wormtail would be let out while she bathed that evening to do the washing up, he still had not allowed him to be near her.

Shortly before she normally retired to the bath, she stood unexpectedly from her normal spot on the couch. Severus looked up from the paper he had been reading in his chair and glanced at her, she took the paper gently from his hands and sat it on the round coffee table before them. He knew what she was going to do; the same thing she had done nearly every night since the two of them had been there. He made no move to stop her.

She straddled his lap as he reflexively undid the top buttons of his robe to allow her access to his neck. The feeling of her lips on his flesh enough to instantly harden him each and every time. As expected, she twirled her tongue expertly around his Adam’s apple, then back up the sweet spot just below his ear that she knew he loved. Severus leans his head back against the chair and lets out a deep moan as nips at the soft skin beneath his chin. His fingertips dance across her thighs as he pushes the fabric of her flowing skirt further up. Much to his surprise, she was not wearing undergarments. She removes her lips from his neck, much to his displeasure, and grins at him as he grips her waist tightly. Her hands trail down his body and find the button of his trousers, he leans back further against the chair to give her more leverage to free his throbbing erection.

Once she has freed him, she does something she has never done before. She slides her body from his; at first, he expects her to strip before him, instead, she drops to her knees at his feet, all while grinning up at him mischievously. She grips him firmly in her soft hands, dips her head down, and licks the tip of his erection like a cat. The shock wave shot through his body enough to lift him from the chair. His mouth hangs open as he looks down at her licking the underside of him, one hand remains wrapped around the base, the other grips his thigh. Severus tenses, unsure of what to do, but not wanting her to stop. His hands are clenched in tight fists on the arm rests, his heart pounds in his chest. The feeling is unlike anything he has ever experienced. Finally, she takes him in her mouth and closes her eyes. She gags slightly at the size of him while he moans his praise to her. If she keeps this up, he will spill in her mouth. The thought of it makes him sweat; whether it was in fear of her reaction, or the further arousal that this act would elicit, he couldn’t be sure.

Just as he begins to think he can’t possibly last any longer, she removes him from her warm mouth and wipes a trail of saliva from her chin with the back of her hand. She hikes her skirt up and places her legs on either side of him. She slides herself down on him, eliciting a moan from both of their throats. The feeling of being buried inside of her indescribable, the warmth and dampness of her making his eyes roll into the back of his head. She rides him slowly at first, gripping his shoulders and moaning into his ear while he clutches her waist, doing his best to keep from lifting her from his lap to take control. She kisses him sweetly on the lips, her mouth tasting of the cinnamon disk he had given her after dinner, and the lingering saltiness of his own arousal.

He was not going to last long; he rarely did, the feeling of her was far too intense. Severus removes his hands from her waist and slides one under her shirt to fondle her breast, the other ventures between her legs to massage her the way that he knew she loved. Her body jerks the moment his fingertip grazes her clitoris. He rubs his fingers in a circle, faster and faster until she presses her hand against his chest, leans her head back, and screams as she clenches around him, all while riding him as hard as her legs could handle.

Severus groans loudly as finishes shortly after she does, the feeling of her pulsating around him always being too much for him to bear. He understood now why men tend to go mad for women. If they all felt the way his wife does, how does one think of anything else? She was insatiable, ravenous for his own body and God did he lust for her as passionately as she did him. He had heard the jokes of men not lasting long, but his wife did not seem to mind, he always ensured that she receive ample pleasure from their copulation. The fact of the matter being that he was no longer a young man, he was nearing forty, and she was the only woman he had ever laid with. They were both lucky he lasted as long as he did.

She pulls herself off of him with, leaving him damp and chilled from her departure, and kisses the tip of his nose before resting her forehead against his. Both of their hearts beat fast in their chests as they pant. She pulls her head away from his and looks into his eyes.

“You have got the most beautiful eyes.” She whispers, then kisses him on the lips once more.

Severus scoffs. She could lie to herself and say that she loved him all she wanted, but she did not need to lie directly to his face to….to do what, exactly?

“It’s true.” She says, staring into his eyes as she smooths the hair from his face, tucking strands behind his ears. “Your eyes are so—I don’t know. Intense, expressive, beautiful.”

Her eyes hold no sense of betrayal, no underlying mischief. He wished desperately that he could take a glance at whatever was in her head, but he knew it was no use even trying. Severus never thought he would experience this. Never in his wildest fantasies could he even imagine having a woman—his woman, sit on his lap and tell him that he had beautiful eyes, tell him that she loved him. Guilt racks his conscious once more, knowing that he could not keep her. Each time he looked into her eyes, he was terrified it would be the final time she looked at him with such trust and admiration. Once she knew what he would have to do, he would disgust her. Perhaps it is why he had given in to her every whim throughout the two weeks they had been back at Spinner’s End. He knew that it would end.

“I’m going to have a bath.” His wife announces and kisses him once more on the lips before removing herself from his lap.

“Your potion is on the vanity. Do not forget to take it. Preferably before you have your bath.” Severus states as he tucks himself back into his trousers. No sooner than her feet hit the bottom step, a knock sounds at the front door. They both freeze, her eyes wide and fear stricken, her mouth slightly open. “Go upstairs. Get in the bath. Do not come back down until I get you.” Severus demands as he makes his way to the front door.

Severus peaks through the curtains on the front door, a cloaked woman stands on the stoop, a second stands back a few feet from her. Severus turns, listening to his wife’s feet scurry up the stairs, and the water begin to run in the tub. He opens the door a crack and the woman removes her hood, her blonde hair drenched in the evening downpour.

“Narcissa!” He fakes politeness as he opens the door wider. “What a pleasant surprise!”

“Severus,” Narcissa’s voice is hoarse, barely audible over the rush of the river beyond them and the rain crashing to the ground. “May I speak to you? It is urgent.”

“But of course.”

Severus stands back and opens the door wide for her to enter, her sister, Bellatrix, pushing her way in directly after. He gestures for them to sit on the sofa as he takes his own seat in the chair. The air is thick with the scent of sex, but he makes no move to cover it. Let him bask in it; let them know what they had narrowly interrupted.

Narcissa casts her cloak aside and takes his wife’s seat, Bellatrix stands guard behind her sister. Their eyes, the jaw, the tips of their ears, all mirrored on his wife’s angelic face. The anger that bubbles inside of him comes from nowhere, he must swallow hard to keep the bile of it from burning his throat. Bellatrix stares him down, undoubtedly wishing to say something, but biting her tongue for her sister's sake.

“So, what can I do for you?” Severus asks, hoping to get rid of them quickly so that he can join his wife upstairs.

“We….we are alone, aren’t we?” Narcissa breathes, her voice barely audible.

“Of course. Well, Wormtail’s here, but we’re not counting vermin, are we?”

“And you wife?” Bellatrix spits her venom in his direction.

“She is having a bath upstairs, Bella. Not that it is any of your concern.” Severus spits back at her and produces his wand. He points it towards the bookshelf near the stairs where his wife had disappeared, a hidden door appears to reveal a narrow staircase with a distressed looking Wormtail. He cowers for a moment, then emerges into the room. “As you have clearly realized, Wormtail, we have guests.”

“Narcissa, Bellatrix, how charming—” Wormtail squeaks as he wriggles his rat-like nose.

“Wormtail will fetch us some drinks, and then return to his room.” Severus says as Wormtail flinches as though he had struck him.

“I am not your servant!” Wormtail attempts to protest.

“Oh, really? I was under the impression that The Dark Lord brought you here to assist me.” Severus raises his brow at Wormtail, daring him to further object.

“To assist you, yes. Not listen to you have sex all day and clean your house!” Wormtail says, Bellatrix snickers.

“You will hold your tongue, Wormtail!” Severus barks, clenching his fists on the arm of his chair. “I had no idea that you were craving more dangerous assignments. This can easily be arranged. I will speak to The Dark—”

“I can speak for myself if I want to!” Wormtail objects, though his voice is not entirely convincing.

“Of course, you can.” Severus sneers at him. “In the meantime, bring some drink. The elf-made wine in the cupboard will do.” Severus watches as Wormtail disappears into the kitchen. He hears the clink of wine glasses from behind the wall, and Wormtail reappears, carrying three glasses and the nearly full bottle of wine he had opened for his wife the night they had come home.

Wormtail deposits the glasses and wine on the round table before them and returns through the hidden door in the bookshelf. “The Dark Lord.” Severus toasts and brings the glass to his lips. He hates the taste of the wine; he stifles a gag as he follows the women’s lead and drains his own glass. Severus refills their glasses and leans back in his chair. He hears a small commotion behind the bookshelf, he produces his wand and sends a blast through it. Wormtail scurries up the stairs away from the door, he casts Muffliato to be sure he is not eavesdropping, and to prevent his wife from overhearing anything they may discuss. Narcissa jumps slightly at the sound, Bellatrix glares at him from behind her sister.

“He has taken to listening at doors, I do not know what he means by it.” Severus explains. “You were saying, Narcissa?”

“Severus, I know I ought not be here, I have been told to say nothing to anyone, but—” Narcissa begins, her face full of sorrow and fear, before her sister cuts her off.

“Then you ought to hold your tongue!” Bellatrix spits at her sister. “Particularly in present company!”

“Present company?” Severus asks, raising one brow at Bellatrix. “And what am I to understand by that, Bellatrix?”

“That I do not trust you, Snape, as you very well know!” Bellatrix shouts at him. Narcissa makes a strangled noise and brings her hands to her face to hide the tears in her eyes. Severus clenches his fists on the arms of the chair and smirks up at Bellatrix.

“Narcissa, I think we ought to hear what Bellatrix is bursting to say; it will save tedious interpretations. Well, continue Bellatrix. Why is it that you do not trust me?”

“A hundred reason!” Bellatrix stomps her foot like a child and sneers at him before she makes her way around the sofa and slams her empty glass of wine on the table. “Where to start! Where were you when The Dark Lord fell? Why did you never make any attempts to find him? What have you been doing all these years that you lived in Dumbledore’s pocket? Why did you stop the Dark Lord procuring the Stone? Why did you not return at once when The Dark Lord was reborn? Where were you a few weeks ago when we battled to retrieve the prophecy for The Dark Lord? Why is Harry Potter still alive, when you have had him at your mercy for five years? And why has your wife not received her Mark? More than that, why has she not been present at a single meeting?”

Severus watches as her chest rises and falls with each breath and her fists shake with the force at which they are clenched at her sides. He smiles at her, daring her to strike. The look on her face so strikingly like his wife was the day that she told her that Sirius Black was dead.

“Before I answer you—” Bellatrix sneers once more at him and opens her mouth to interject, Severus holds a hand up to stop her. “Oh yes, Bellatrix, I am going to answer! You can carry my words back to the others who whisper behind my back and carry false tales of my treachery to The Dark Lord! Before I answer you, I say, let me ask a question in turn. Do you truly think that The Dark Lord has not asked me each and every one of those questions? And do you truly believe, had I not been able to give satisfactory answers, I would be sitting here talking to you?” Severus raises his brow and smirks at her, daring her to continue.

Severus and Bellatrix quarrel for what feels like an eternity. Her, once again, accusing him of being a spy. Him, once again pointing out her faults. Finally, he leaves her speechless with logic and she stares at him unhappily.

“And as for my wife, Bellatrix,” Severus continues, his fists still clenched on the arm rests. “She remains ill. The Dark Lord himself has seen this not two weeks ago. I invite you to take the matter up with him, if you still doubt her health.”

“Bring her down, Snape.” Bellatrix demands through clenched teeth.

“Very well.” Severus stands, looking down at Bellatrix still sitting on the couch. “I will interrupt her bath to ease your concerns. I must warn you though, she is prone to rather….intense bouts of vomiting. I’m sure it won’t put too much of a damper on this beautiful family reunion.” Severus’ tone is thick with sarcasm as he smirks back at Bellatrix.

“No!” Narcissa speaks up. “No, it is quite alright. Leave her be. I came to speak with you, Severus.”

“Very well.” Severus begins as he makes his way back to his seat. “Now you came to ask me for help, Narcissa?”

Narcissa’s face twists in anguish. She begs, pleads, sobs for him to do something, anything to save her only son. Severus looks away from her tear streaked face, not daring to have sympathy for her. He liked Draco, one could even go as far as saying he loved him, but he could not look into his mother’s eyes and tell her that her son would fail. This would mean not only death for Draco, but possibly her as well. Narcissa Malfoy is many things, but an unloving mother is not one of them. Severus stands and makes his way to the window, he pulls the curtain back slightly to peer outside; he had wondered if the rain had let up, he would like to walk with his wife after this. It had not let up, in fact, it was raining harder.

Narcissa’s pleading continues, as he turns to attempt to quiet her, she stands and staggers to him. She clutches the front of his robes as though he were the only thing keeping her form simply floating away. He pries her hands from his robe and steers her back to the couch. He pours her another glass of wine to calm her nerves and forces it into her hands. She slings it away and slides from the sofa and onto the stained carpeted floor, she grabs his hand in hers and brings it to her lips. She is unhinged. He does not know what it is like to have a child, and he hopes he will never have to learn, especially if it forces one to behave as Narcissa currently is.

“If you are there to protect him…Severus, will you swear it? Will you make the Unbreakable Vow?” Narcissa gazes up at him with tears streaming down her face. He had feared it would come to this when she first began begging.

“The Unbreakable Vow?” He repeats, keeping his expression blank. Bellatrix cackles, Narcissa sniffles.

“Aren’t you listening, Narcissa? Oh, he’ll try. I’m sure….The usual empty words, the usual slithering out of action….Oh, on The Dark Lord’s orders, of course!”

“Certainly, Narcissa, I shall make the Unbreakable Vow.” Severus whispers. “Perhaps your sister will consent to be our Bonder?”

Severus consents to each Vow, his pale face glowing red as three strands of red shoot from the tip of Bellatrix’s wand, snaking around his and Narcissa’s joined hands, binding him to her in duty.

He does not plan to make it out of yet another war alive. He will kill Albus Dumbledore. He will lie and say that it was for Draco and Narcissa. He will pass vital information to Harry Potter, for Lily. And he will leave everything he owns to his wife. With any luck, he will be dead before his fortieth birthday.

Each evening after the two had returned from their walk, Severus teaches his wife how to cast a Patronus in the front parlor. The look on her face as she watched his doe stroll around the room before dissipating before their eyes brought a smile to his own face. She had taken to it right away but had yet to produce a corporal Patronus. Wisps of silver burst from the end of her wand and sprayed the room in bright, white light each time. She was proud enough of herself and beamed from ear to ear each time the light shone on her face, but it was rather useless for her to know the spell if she could not produce a corporal Patronus.

Finally, a little more than one week before they are due to return to Hogwarts, the two of them sit once more in their usual spots in the parlor. Her wand clutched in her hand, him reading the days paper. Occasionally he glances up to catch sight of his wife smile as the streams of light erupt from the tip of her wand. He smiles to himself each time he catches hers, thankful that the newspaper covers his face. She was not as frustrated at her lack of Patronus as he had expected her to be, but that did not stop her from trying to guess what it might be. At first, she thought it would be a cat, then changed her mind and figured it would be a bird, now, however, she was hoping for a hippogriff.

They both freeze when on her final attempt, a tiny, winged creature bursts from the end of her wand. She watches in awe as it flutters throughout the room before dissipating before their eyes. The look on her face unlike anything he had ever experienced before.

It was a bat.

Hours later, Severus holds his wife in bed. Her soft breath tickling the skin on his neck as she rests her head on his shoulder. Neither of them are asleep, but they lay in silence, listening to one another breathe. The plan had initially been to have his mother’s room be hers, and him to remain in his own room across the hall. It had never worked. The first time she had been here, he had slept in the vanity chair next to her bed each night. This time, he had missed the feeling of her pressed against him every morning and took it upon himself to remain in the room with her. His own room was slightly bigger, but he was not ready to remove the framed pictures of him and Lily throughout their childhood and did not wish to answer any questions she may have pertaining to them. It was bad enough that she had already asked him how he knew Sirius Black, and he was forced to tell her that he was a raging asshole up until the day he died. At least he hadn’t been breaking any fantasy she had regarding the man. She didn’t even know him.

“Will I have to get one?” His wife whispers, breaking the silence in the room. Severus raises his brow at her, not sure what she was referring to. Her eyes flicker to his left arm, and he suddenly understands.

“I am doing everything within my power to prevent it.”

“Thank you.” She whispers before lifting her head and kissing him gently on the lips. “Are you prepared to teach first year's potions, yet?” She jokes, attempting to lighten the mood. She had not asked who was at the door, and he had not divulged. He could tell, however, that she had been on edge since Narcissa and Bellatrix departed.

“I will not be teaching potions this year.” She lifts herself on to her elbow and raises one brow at him in question. “I have accepted the position as Defense Against the Dark Arts professor this coming term.”

She beams at him. A genuine, ear to ear smile. She leans forward, ready to kiss him once more, before her face suddenly falls in realization.

“It…..it isn’t really cursed, is it?” She asks, brow scrunched with worry.

“No. It is not.” He lies.

The position was cursed, at least it had been, up until two months ago when The Dark Lord lifted the curse for him to accept the position, and ultimately live to see himself become headmaster the following year. She did not need to know this final part, yet.

“Good.” She states flatly before settling back down on his shoulder. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

Chapter Text

The two of them had returned to Hogwarts that morning, a week and a half before the start of term. She had spent the day helping him rearrange his classroom to better suit his style. While he had managed to keep his old private brewing room and living quarters, he had lost his classroom. This did not bother him much as the room was constantly freezing. He had gotten used to it after a year or two teaching there, but the cold had been making his hands and knees ache for the last three years.

“Well, that’s depressing.” She mummers as she steps back from a photo of a small child who had been unfortunate enough to encounter a werewolf. A shutter runs through her body when she glances over to another of a woman shrieking after being hit with a Cruciatus Curse.

“Yes, well…” Severus responds, taking a step back to ensure a detailed diagram of an Inferi was straight on the wall.

“I’m glad you’re the one who will be teaching them this year, with everything happening right now. Last thing they need is another Quirrell or Lockhart. I suppose Moody wasn’t terrible. He at least made it seem real.” His wife rambles on, unaware that Moody was actually Barty Crouch Jr. disguised as Mad-Eye Moody using Polyjuice Potion.

“Will you teach me?” She asks, turning her attention to him as he rearranges his new desk.

“Teach you what?” Severus asks, looking up from the quills he was lining in the desk drawer and raises his brow at her.

“Anything that didn’t teach me.” She steps up on to the platform and makes her way around his desk, her finger leaving a trail in the dust as she slides it across the top. She looks up at him, her eyes full of trust.

“That was my intention.” Severus replies, looking down his nose at her. “Although, it will be challenging considering anyone with ears will know what you plan to do.”

“Yeah.” She sighs, looking down at her feet. “Is there something wrong with me? Is that why I can’t do it?”

“We are not having this conversation again. You are not a partial Squib, because there is no such thing. I should know. I’m the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.” He smirks down at her and raises one brow.

“I don’t think that falls under Defense Against the Dark arts. Quite the opposite, actually.” She giggles and wraps her arms around his waist.

“I think we are finished here.” Severus says, prying her arms from his waist and offering her his arm instead. “Come with me.”

Severus leads his wife through the castle, her arm linked in his. He learned at the beginning of the summer to slow his stride significantly so that he was not dragging her behind him as they walked.

“Walk like you have a purpose in life!” His father’s voice rang in his ears, prompting him to hold his head high and walk as if he were the most important man in the room. Tobias Snape was a horrible man but knew firsthand how tough life would be for a poor boy with bad posture.

No other faculty had arrived, and many of the portraits were off doing who knows what. The few that remained in their own frames looked down at them with suspicion but did not say a word. He would be lying if he said it didn’t give him a bit of satisfaction having them see. He leads her to the Clock Tower and allows her to go ahead so that he can catch her should she get too close to one of the many gears spinning near the stairs. Finally, they reach the top. The clocks pendulum swings softly behind them, creating a whooshing sound and a gentle breeze that shifts her hair back and forth on her shoulders as she leans over the railing to look at the courtyard below. She grips the banister tightly and leans over, her hair spilling around her face, her toes barely touching the ground. His heart stops for a moment, afraid she will let go and fall headfirst below. The sun sets low in the sky, casting a beautiful orange glow around her. The breeze rolling through wafts the scent of her into his nostrils, and he breathes in deeply, savoring the smell. Coconut hair, coffee breath, and her natural scent that he couldn’t quite place, but was far from offensive.

“I used to come up here a lot.” She sighs, pulling herself back over the railing.

“You are afraid of the giant squid, but would come to the Clock Tower?” He asks, teasingly.

“Again, I am not afraid of the giant squid. I simply do not wish to see it next to my bed.”

“My bed.” He corrects her with a smirk.

“Our bed.” She argues back, a grin plastered to her face. He huffs, letting her have this one.

“There is something I wish to discuss with you.” She raises her brow at him, the ghost of her grin still on her face. “How do you tell if a liquid is Veritaserum?”

Severus looks down at her, his face somber and serious. Her smile fades as she creases her brow in concentration.

“You…you can’t.” She finally answers after a moment of thinking.

“Why can’t you?”

“Because it is odorless, colorless, and tasteless. There is no way to know unless you ingest it.” Her face is an open book, full of confusion and a twinge of fear as she looks up into his eyes.

“Precisely.” Severus reaches into his robe and pulls out a small glass vial with a silver topper marked Veritaserum. He passes it to her, allowing her to examine it. “This is important. If it has a silver stopper such as this one, it is not real. It came from my hand. Veritaserum is meant to have a cork and be dipped in black wax. It is protocol from the Ministry. This is nothing more than water with a drop of Calming Drought. Not enough to hinder your mind, but enough to relax you.”

“Okay.” She whispers, her voice small and shaky. She grips the vial tightly in her hand, sighs deeply, and passes it back to him.

“There will be moments this year where I must ask too much of you. Do as I tell you, say precisely what I tell you to say, and you will be fine. Do you understand?” Severus tries to relax his face to ease the concern plastered on hers but is unable to. He must convey the importance of what he is saying to her.

“Ye—yes. Yes, I understand.”

“I need you to trust that Albus and I to know what we are doing. We will tell you exactly what needs to be done. You must do it; you must play the part. Albus and I cannot penetrate your mind. The Dark Lord more than likely will not be able to either. This will anger him, and that is where the fake Veritaserum will come in. There is only so much I can do, only so much protection I can offer you.”

“Why can’t you pen—” She begins, he holds up his hand to stop her.

“I do not know why we cannot penetrate your mind. And before you ask, no there is nothing wrong with you. No, there is no such thing as a partial Squib. And IF there were, you are not one.” Severus takes a breath and runs his hands down his face and looks out over the courtyard before taking a cigarette out of his pocket and lighting it. He takes several strong drags and finally looks back down at her biting the skin around her thumb nail. He gently removes her hand from her mouth and looks down into her eyes. “Do you trust me?”

“Dumbledore knows, right?” Her face turns white, and she trembles slightly, her eyes flicker to his left arm quickly before returning to his face. “He knows everything, right?”

“Albus knows.” Severus assures her.

“I trust you.” She says, her blue eyes full of emotion as they stare into his.

“I will not lock you in the room this year. Although, I am trusting you to be smart. Do not go gallivanting around the castle bragging about being married to a professor. It is vital that the everyone be left in the dark in regard to everything that we will discuss, everything that we will be doing. Just because your mind is inaccessible, does not mean that everyone else’s is. I must ask that you limit your excursions until after curfew, or during classroom hours. You may use my private brewing room any time you wish, and I will arrange a greenhouse key for you.”

“Thank you, Severus.” She says, smiling up at him slightly.

“This is important, we will meet Him tonight. You passed Dumbledore on his way out of the castle; he is ill and incredibly weak. He stopped briefly to tell me that he will return by the start of term but did not speak to you. You do not know where he went. This is all you know; do not add anything to the story. You know this and nothing more. You will assure Him that you will get more information.”

Severus leans against the door frame and watches as his wife, wearing nothing more than a towel wrapped tightly around her body, combs her damp hair in the bathroom mirror. The strands catch the candlelight and dance like flames as her hand moves the comb gently through, the ends curling ever so slightly as they dry. He steps behind her and takes the comb from her hands; he rather enjoyed combing her hair, it was soothing to him. He gathers small sections of her hair and runs his fingers through it directly behind the comb, then places the freshly combed section gently on her back before moving on to the next. She watches him in the mirror, her face frozen in terror. Her hair had grown long since he had cut it months prior. It was now down the middle of her back, and healthier than he had ever seen it. Severus finishes combing out her hair, she sighs deeply, turns, and wraps her arms around his waist, her head resting in the center of his chest. She is much shorter than him, her head barely reaches his shoulders. She had told him once during the summer, after he had made fun of her height while she struggled to reach something in a cupboard in the kitchen, that her height was perfect compared to his, because she liked listening to his heartbeat. He had never liked being touched, he avoided it as much as possible, but with her, it felt natural. It felt comforting.

He exits the room to retrieve the gown he had purchased for her during the summer when he had gone to pick up his new robes for the upcoming school year. The silk fabric cool and smooth against his hands as he hangs it on the back of the bathroom door, he watches her use her wand to dry the rest of her hair. The loose waves spring to life as the strands dry, she takes each strand and pins them randomly low on the back of her head, leaving shorter strands to frame her face. Her hands shake as she reaches into a cloth handbag behind the sinks faucet to retrieve her makeup. Carefully, she applies a black line to her eyelids, finishing the line with a sharp point. She paints her eyelashes with a black wand, and her lips a deep reddish purple, the color vibrant against her porcelain skin.

Severus removes the dress from the hanger, cradling the elegant fabric carefully in his arms so it does not drag the floor, doing his best to ignore the slight burn in his left arm as The Dark Lord called to them. True to his word, he had done everything he could to keep his wife from receiving her own Mark. Severus vouched her, swore to be responsible for her; the same as Lucious Malfoy did to keep Narcissa’s arm clear. He unzips the sipper running down the length of the back portion of the dress and helps her step into it. Goosebumps prickle along her spine as he carefully zips the dress for her. He leaves the room once more to retrieve a red velvet box from the top drawer of his desk, and a pair of black closed toe high heels with a thin ankle strap. Once back in the bathroom, he pauses a moment, admiring the woman before him. The dress hugged her body perfectly; the black silk a beautiful contrast to her pale skin, the skintight fabric amplifying her round backside, the deep V of the bodice showing off her sharp collarbones and small bosom, the slit in the side showing off her long shapely legs. He places the high heels on the sink and opens the red box, inside a strand of pearls hugs a matching bracelet and set of earrings.

Severus removes the necklace from its protective case, the pearls cool and slick between his fingers. He stands behind his wife and drapes them around her neck, moving the baby hairs from the nape of her neck with his pinky finger to clasp the silver hook. He watches in the mirror as she brings her hand to her neck to run her fingers along the pearls.

“Are your ears pierced?” Severus asks, busying himself with removing the bracelet from the box.

“No.” Her voice barely a whisper. She watches as he clasps the bracelet onto her right wrist.

“I did not think so. I have never seen you wear earrings.” He kneels on one knee and bends hers slightly to place the shoes on her feet, ensuring the strap is fastened snugly around her ankle.

Severus leads his wife through the front entrance of Malfoy Manor. She clutches his arm tightly as she trembles.

“Breathe.” he whispers out of the corner of his mouth. “I am here.”

She nods tightly and lets out a shaky breath. He continues on through the manor, their steps echoing off of the marble floors beneath them. Tonight, will be a private affair, only The Dark Lord, Narcissa, Bellatrix, and Draco will be present. All eyes are set on them as they walk through the parlor door. Severus holds his head high, leads his wife to the table, and pulls out the chair for her to sit. She sits shakily, never taking her eyes off of him as he takes his seat at the foot of the table to he left to her, directly across from The Dark Lord.

“Severus,” The Dark Lord hisses, his snake eyes boring in to his, “How good it is to see you and your lovely wife.” Bellatrix makes a strangled laughing sound in the back of her throat but stops as soon as The Dark Lord narrows his eyes at her.

“My Lord.” Severus nods, he places his right hand palm up on the table, an invitation for his wife to take it should she need reassurance. She does, and he squeezes it gently. His left hand grips the tables edge tightly.

“If I may, My lord.” Bellatrix begins, The Dark Lord nods, allowing her to continue. “If you were truly as devoted to your wife as you like to make us believe, then tell us, why do you not wear a wedding band?”

“Simple, Bella. I do not care for jewelry. That is all.” Severus states plainly, staring into her eyes and daring her to strike. Her nostrils flair, she opens her mouth to speak but is cut off.

“Enough.” The Dark Lord hisses to the both of them before raising a glass of wine to his lips.

Narcissa stares catatonically off into the distance, Draco stares at his hands in his lap, his wife does the same. The only ones brazen enough to look at one another are him and Bellatrix. He will rip her to shreds.

“Missus Snape,” The Dark Lord hisses, she jerks slightly and tightens her fist in his hand, he smoothes his thumb over the back of her hand in an attempt to calm her. She raises her head to look around, careful to avoid His eyes. “Tell us, how are you settling in at Hogwarts?”

“We only arrived this morning.” Severus interjects. The Dark Lord narrows His eyes at him.

“I was speaking to your wife, Severus.” The Dark Lord objects, Bellatrix snickers. Severus cuts his eyes at her and sneers.

“Missus Snape, as I was saying.”

“I…I have not had a chance to settle in.” Her voice is low and shaky, her hand trembles in his.

“Have you seen Dumbledore?” He places his elbows on the table and stares down at her, as if daring her to make eye contact with him.

“Only briefly.” She whispers.

“Please, go on.” The Dark Lord hisses, Bellatrix giggles beside him, he cuts his eyes to her once more.

“He..he passed us in the hall. He was leaving the castle. He said—he told Severus that he will return by the start of term. He did not speak to me.” Severus squeezes her hand once more, telling her that she had done well.

“And?” Bellatrix asks, her eyes narrowed at her.

“He—he was weak. He seemed to be very ill. I don’t know any more than that.” Her voice was slightly stronger, but still cracked halfway through the sentence.

Mistakenly, she makes eye contact with The Dark Lord. Before Severus can stop it, she screams loudly, clutches her head, and slides from the chair and crumbles to the floor. Everyone jumps to their feet, staring down at her. Severus crouches next to her on the cold marble floor, he picks her up under her armpits and puts her back in her chair. She grips her head in her hands and pants heavily. Severus stands guard behind her chair, his hands gripping her shoulders, Bellatrix cackles next to him, Draco has backed himself against the wall, eyes darting between her and The Dark Lord, Narcissa settles back in her seat, eyes becoming distant once more. The Dark Lord stalks towards them, his snake eyes full of fury.

“Severus.” The Dark Lord begins, he grips her chin in his hand and lifts her head up to meet his, she trembles and stiffens her shoulders. “Who taught this girl Occlumency?”

“No one, My Lord.” Severus answers, The Dark Lord eyes him suspiciously.

Severus can feel Him enter his mind, can feel him riffling through his memories to find anything. He pushes the memory of attempting to use Legamency on her in The Shrieking Shack, another of him telling Albus that he could not access her mind, the final of Albus telling him that he could not access it either. He feels The Dark Lord retreat, leaving his brain feeling cold and numb.

“Interesting.” The Dark Lord hisses, Bellatrix presses herself against the Dark Lord’s back, eyeing his wife like she were a piece of meat.

“How can we trust her, My Lord?” Bellatrix whispers in His ear, smirking at Severus.

“Silence, Bella!” The Dark Lord snaps, Bellatrix slinks back from him slightly before straightening back up again. “Very interesting.”

Severus hugs his wife tightly against him at the Malfoy Manor entrance gate and apparate to the first place that comes to his mind; Clagmar Coast. It was this very cliff that he met Albus the night he had gotten word of The Dark Lord’s plan to harm Lily. It was here he had broken down and begged Albus to protect her, where he agreed to be Albus’ man. He releases his wife; she bends and pants trying to catch her breath. The night is bright, the waning gibbus hangs so low in the sky one could almost reach out and grab it. There are no manmade lights as far as the eye could see, the stars and moon shining brightly in the sky cast a silver glow across the rocky cliff. The sea below roars, slapping harshly against the cliff, the hiss from it nearly deafening. Despite how high up they are, they are still misted with droplets of seawater as the waves crash against the rocks.

She attempts to take a step, the heel of her shoe catches on a pebble on the uneven terrain. She rolls her ankle and makes a high-pitched noise; Severus catches her elbow before she hits the ground and pulls her up. He angles his body behind her so that she can lean against him, she bends and undoes the strap around her ankle and kicks her shoes off completely before beginning to pace. The crunch of the pebbles beneath her bare feet making him shudder.

“Where are we?” She pants. Her back is to him, the moon casting a silver aura around her body.

“Clagmar Coast.”

“Why?” She snaps, spinning around to face him.

“I thought you would like some air.” He answers simply, raising one brow at her. She doesn’t speak, only pants, her shoulders hunched up around her neck. “It is an isolated area; peaceful. I would be happy living here. We can come again in the daylight, if you would like.”

“Let’s do it.”

“Tomorrow, then. If it is not raining.”

“No. Let’s just stay. We don’t have to go back. We can just live here, away from everyone. Away from the war.” She begs, he voice high pitched and cracking, he realizes she is crying.

“I am not a coward.” Severus sneers through his teeth at her.

“I never implied that you were!” She shouts at him above the crash of the ocean's waves.

“If you would suggest we hide, sit back on the beach with our feet up, while everyone in our world is tortured and killed, then perhaps it is you who is the coward.” He spits at her as he grabs her by the wrist.

He doesn’t even bother pulling her against his chest, or stopping to pick up her discarded shoes, he apparates once more. He drops her off outside of the Hogwarts gates and stomps off without her, leaving her alone and barefoot in the dark. Severus finds himself leaning against the Clock Tower banister chain smoking in the dark when he hears someone’s footsteps on the stairs behind him. He does not need to turn to know that the stride belongs to Albus. He stubs his cigarette butt on the banister and drops it in the growing pile at his feet.

“I’ve just seen your wife. She looks beautiful tonight. You are a lucky man, Severus.” Albus says as he takes his place next to him. Severus only huffs. “I must say, she was rather upset. She asked if I knew where you were. Don’t worry, I didn’t give you away.”

The two of them lean against the banister in silence for several moments, watching the darkness below. Severus lights another cigarette and sighs deeply.

“You know, there was another prophecy the night you overheard the interview with Sybil.” Albus begins, breaking the silence. “Follow me to my office, and I can show you in the pensive.”

Severus follows Albus as they make their way through the castle to his office. The journey taking twice as long as Albus felt the need to stop and say hello to any portrait still awake at that late hour. Finally, they make their way to the pensive. Severus watches as Albus presses his wand to his temple and extracts a bluish silver mist that he deposits in the water. Severus grips the edge of the pensive and plunges into the memory.

He is in the smoky pub with them, knowing that in real life, he would have been dragged away from the door feet from him only moments before. The mood is somber, evidently, Sybil has just delivered the final lines to the Potter Prophecy. Thet sit around the table, cupping their mugs in their hands, no one daring to speak. Just then, Sybil’s eyes glaze over and bulge from her head.

“The one to brighten the tortured Prince arrived in June under a Capricorn moon. They will appear as a lost love and bring with them hope to a darkened world. They will become a savior and confidant to the Prince.”

Her voice comes out in a deep, horse tone that is not her own. She clears her throat harshly, refocuses her eyes, and stares at Albus with her mouth slightly open. Albus begins to say something, but the memory fades, leaving him floating in a grey mist. Severus straightens and raises his brow at Albus, curious as to why he should want him to hear this prophecy.

“It took many years, but I have finally come to realize that this prophecy is yours, Severus.” Severus laughs out loud at this and wipes his eye for emphasis. “Your wife, if I am not mistaken, was born in June, under a Capricorn moon. I always knew you referred to yourself as Prince during your Hogwarts days. Your mother’s maiden name, is it not? It wasn’t until I saw her under the sorting hat that I knew for sure. She appears as a lost love, does she not?”

“So, you are saying that it is fate’s fault I was forced to take a child bride?” Severus sneers at Albus, his nostrils flaring.

“She is an adult, Severus.”

“Barely!” Severus rages. “If circumstances were any different, you know as well as I do that there would have been questions; an inquiry into the matter of a professor marrying his student less than a year after she graduated!”

“Do not be too hard on her, Severus. She is not a coward. She is a frightened young woman who had less say in this than you did.”

Severus doesn’t stick around to further argue with Albus, he slams the door behind him and stalks back to the dungeon to his room. He had expected his wife to be there waiting for him to return, or at the very least, any sign that she had even been in the room. Earlier that day, he had a plump chaise lounge brought into the room for her, he had been worried about her spending another long year with her feet tucked beneath her in the chair. While he was capable of sitting in a chair like a normal adult would, she was not. Severus lies back on the lounge with his ankles crossed. Once again, he finds himself chain smoking, flipping the ashes and stubbing each cigarette out in the ashtray propped on his stomach. Three thirty rolls around, and his wife stumbles into the room. She reeks of alcohol; he can smell it from across the room. Her hair had fallen completely, the black on her eyes smeared beneath like a raccoon, her lipstick completely gone.

She stalks past him and slams the bathroom door, locking herself inside. Severus stubs his cigarette out and sits up on the lounge, staring at the bathroom door with one brow raised. She emerges after several moments of fumbling in the locked bathroom, wearing a black nightgown. She doesn’t say a word to him as she walks past him and buries herself beneath the blankets on the bed. Severus sighs deeply and pinches the bridge of his nose. It was always him that ran away, never her. Then again, he had called her a coward and left her barefoot and alone in the dark.

“You are not a coward.” He mutters.

The only response is her rolling over in the bed. Severus stands and makes his way to her, her red hair spills across the pillow like molten lava. He reaches out and trails his middle finger across her forehead, moving the hair that had spilled across her face behind her ear.

“Don’t touch me!” She shouts at him and scoots further into the bed.

Severus recoils as if she bit him and nurses the hand that had touched her against his chest. He sits on the bed next to her, the weight of him on the mattress causing her to pull into him slightly. She huffs and scoots away once more. Severus leaves the room and makes his way across the hall to his private brewing room. Inside he reaches the top shelf on the left, where he kept a few brewed potions, fumbles blindly for a moment, and produces a vial of Hangover Drought. By the smell of her, she would be needing it desperately.

“Sit up.” Severus demands and he towers over her in the bed. She doesn’t respond or make any movement to obey.

He puts his hand beneath her shoulder and lifts her from the bed in one swift motion. She makes a growling noise at him, her eyes red from tears and fury. Severus pops the cork on the vial with his thumb and pinches her cheeks to force her mouth open. He pours the vial in to her mouth and claps his hand over it.

“Swallow.” He demands. Her eyes narrow at him in defiance. “Swallow it. Now. If you bite me, you will regret it.”

Finally, she swallows, and he removes his hand from her mouth. She slinks back down in the bed and throws the blankets over her head.

“I came to speak to you, and you were not here. Where were you?”

“Why do you care?” She murmurs, her voice muffled beneath the blanket.

“Because like it or not, you are my wife.” She scoffs at this but makes no move to answer him with words. “You come in, after three in the morning, drunk, and won’t tell me where. You. Have. Been.”

This gets her attention; she springs up into a sitting position and slams her clenched fists on to the mattress.

“You have some nerve!” She grits through her teeth, her eyes bulging from her eyes from rage. “You left me, again, to go do whatever it is you do whenever you run off!”

“I was with Albus.”

“Funny. Considering I was with him, too.” She sneers at him as she narrows her eyes. Her chest rises in falls as she breathes deeply, her collarbones popping from beneath her skin.

“Yes, so I heard. So, I’m expected to believe that it was Albus who got you drunk?” Severus raises his brow at her and smirks slightly.

“Yes, actually. It was Albus.”

“You are not a coward.” Severus repeats, his voice smaller than he intended.

“I heard you the first time you said it.” She spits at him, her words venom.

“I am sorry.” She doesn’t say anything, only watches as he slowly makes his way back to her. He reaches out timidly and smooths the hair from her forehead once more. “I apologize for all of my actions tonight. I apologize for saying that you are a coward.”

“I am, though. I am a coward.” Her voice cracks with threatened tears as she leans into his hand on her head. “I want to be strong. I want to be brave, like you.”

Chapter Text

Her heart hammers in her chest; every snap of a twig, the rustle of leaves as the wind whips through the valley, or hoot of an owl high above causes her throat to constrict. The silk dress she wears is slick with sweat and dew, it catches on stray branches as she fumbles blindly down the path. As summer draws to an end, the night is cool, chilling her skin and numbing her bare feet on the dirt path. Hogwarts castle sits in the distance, the outline of it intimidating in the darkness. Ordinarily, she would be lit up completely, giving one the impression her lights could be seen from outer space. Tonight, however, very few windows glow with candlelight. The walkways are not lit, the outer sconces do not beam, and he grand entrance is not propped open to spill light across the front lawns.

Danu can still feel His eyes on her. He tried to enter her mind, just as Severus had warned her. The fear was all consuming, it coursed through her veins and poisoned her brain. She couldn’t escape the terror that clung to her entire being. Severus told her that she was a coward afterwards. All she wanted was to be safe, to be with him, to be anywhere far away from He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. If that made her a coward, then so be it.

After stumbling blindly down the path towards Hogwarts for what felt like hours, she finally reaches the front doors of the castle. Her heart still hammers in her chest, but she was finally able to breathe. A shiver runs down her spine as she steps through the entrance, the silence and enormity of the Entrance Hall slightly unnerving. She can feel dozens of eyes on her in every direction but is unable to pinpoint them in the darkness. Spirits prowl the castle; the portraits are truly alive. They both frightened her at first, she would lie in bed awake, the covers pulled over her head, terrified that they were watching her as she slept. It didn’t take long to become used to their presence, but sometimes, in the complete darkness, the idea that the portraits on the walls could actually see her was slightly more than she could bear. She wanted Severus to hold her hand and tell her that he was there, but also wanted to be as far away from him as possible at the moment.

“Forgive an old man for being too forward,” A voice breaks the silence, she gasps at the intrusion and spins around, her heart in her chest. A white glow emerges from the shadows, the bright light blinding her slightly, making it impossible to see who, or what, was behind it. “But you are truly breathtaking tonight, Missus Snape.”

“I did not mean to frighten you.” Says the intruder.

The figure adjusts the light lower, she squints her eyes and can just make out a white beard in the blinding glow. It was Dumbledore. She brings her hand to her chest and lets out a breath she did not know that she was holding. She knew that she must be a sight to see in the darkness. She could feel curls coming loose from the pins she had used earlier in the night to secure them. The mascara she had applied was undoubtedly smeared down her face from crying, she was barefoot, and could feel more than one twig stabbing into her skin as they clung to the silk fabric of her dress.

“You look as though you could use a drink.” Dumbledore admits as he comes closer to her. “Come. Let’s go and see what we can find.” He offers her his arm and leads her to the kitchen.

Danu sits across from Dumbledore in the dimly lit kitchen. He produced a bottle of Firewhisky and a glass for each of them. She watches as he fills each of the far more than he should have. The Firewhisky burns her mouth as she sips it but warms down her spine and makes her head feel fuzzy. It was halfway through their first glass when she notices his hand is blackened and shriveled. She gasps involuntarily, he seems to know exactly what had caused this reaction, because he stretches his fingers in front of her and smiles kindly at her from across the table.

“Does it hurt?” She asks, her voice smaller than she had intended.

“A bit. But do not worry, all will be fine.” Dumbledore assures her, his icy blue eyes kinder than she had ever seen them.

“Is there a potion? Can Sev—”

“Severus is handling it; I am in great hands.”

“Good.” She smiles back at him, feeling a small sense of pride that Dumbledore trusted Severus enough to have him handle his care when he could have gone to St. Mungo’s. “Do—do you know where he is at?”

“No, I have not seen him” Dumbledore sighs slightly, a strange look crosses his face. “Would you like to tell me what happened?”

Danu drains her glass and explains everything to him. She tells him about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, the fake Veritaserum, and Severus calling her a coward. Dumbledore listens intently, nodding his head periodically, and offering her a kind smile when she began to tear up.

“Severus can be a very stubborn man.” Dumbledore finally admits with a small chuckle.

“You know though, right? You know about his Mark, about He—”

“About Voldemort?” Dumbledore says the name as if he were an old friend, a shiver runs down her spine. “Yes, I know. I trust Severus more than I trust any other living person.”

“I know that he does not like me.” Danu admits, tears threatening to spill once more from her eyes. She blinks them away as Dumbledore refills her glass. She throws it back and makes a hissing sound between her grit teeth. She has grown accustomed to the numbness it leaves on her tongue, and the sting as the liquid slides down her throat.

“Severus cares for you very deeply.” Dumbledore says matter-of-factly, causing her to laugh out loud.

“There is a difference between caring for someone and liking them. Severus takes care of me, and for that I am thankful, but that is the extent of our marriage. When this is all over, Severus will move on, and I will be left with nothing, nowhere to go, and no friends to turn to. He’s practically counting down the days until he can be rid of me.”

Dumbledore excuses himself to go to the restroom, leaving her alone in the silent kitchen with nothing but her thoughts. Her heart aches at the thought of a life without him. The mere thought of not waking each morning to see the sun glisten off of his black hair as he slept peacefully beside her, smoothing his hair from his face to reveal the grey hairs popping up above his ears and temple, then kissing his forehead to wake him makes her lower lip tremble with emotion. She takes a deep breath to calm herself, desperate not to cry again over something she hopefully would not have to deal with for a while longer. She loved Severus but knew in her heart that he would never love her back. Danu helps herself to another tall glass of Firewhisky and lays her head on her arms on the table.

“I will not pretend to know the intimacies of your marriage,” Dumbledore begins as he reenters the room, she lifts her head and watches as he takes his seat opposite her once more. He was gone for quite a while, but she couldn’t be sure how long. “But I now Severus better than anyone else does. He would not send you away penniless.”

“I do not want his gold.” She states plainly. two of them sit in silence for what feels like an eternity, draining and refilling their glasses periodically.

“What is it that you want from him?” Dumbledore asks finally, peering over his half-moon spectacles at her.

“I….I would like for him to wa—want for me to be his wi—wife. Would it be a—asking too much for him to l0—love me some day?” She hiccups, her voice is thick and husky, her words slur from the alcohol. Being drunk is foreign to her, and she cannot be sure that she likes it.

“Severus guards his emotions, as I am sure you know. Be patient with him. For now, though, I believe it is time we get you to bed. I wouldn’t want Severus thinking I’ve stolen his lovely bride.”

Dumbledore offers his arm and leads her from the kitchen to the dungeon. It is not a long walk, but her feet feel as if they are made of lead. The hurt she had felt earlier turns to blind rage as they make their way down the darkened corridors, and she begins to shake. In this moment, she could rip an Acromantula limb from limb with her bare hands. Dumbledore leaves her outside of Severus’ room and pats her arm with a warm smile. The anger that fills her only amplifies when she enters the room and Severus is sitting there smoking. He hadn’t even looked for her. He left her alone in the dark and couldn’t even be bothered to make sure she had actually made it to the castle.

She’s lying on a cold marble floor, her body crumbled and broken. She’s screaming, the sound so foreign to her ears. The pain that ripples through her body unlike anything she has ever experienced. She hears voices, she cannot place them. The next thing she knows, she’s dangling midair, staring into the eyes of Severus Snape. She tries to reach for him, to beg him to help her, but her body is frozen, and her tongue is glued to her mouth. She wants to scream again, no, she needs to scream again, but she can’t.

Except, she is screaming again. She’s screaming, thrashing, begging for help. Severus is clutching her shoulders, shouting something at her. It was a dream, the pain, the hunger, even the cold. It was all just a dream. It felt too real, it felt all consuming. She never remembered her nightmares, but she didn’t think she had ever woken like this before. Severus had her pulled to his chest, his heart hammering against her ear just as fast as her own was. She wanted to be mad at him the previous night, but she couldn’t be. Right now, she needed him to hold her and tell her that he was there and that she was okay. He pries her from his chest and cups her face in his large, warm hands, and looks into her eyes. He wipes the tears from her face with his thumbs, she hadn’t even realized that she was crying.

“It was a dream.” He whispers to her as she tries desperately to regulate her breathing. “It was only a dream.”

Summer turns to fall before her eyes, not that she would have had a chance to even notice. Danu sleeps her days away, desperate for more dreams. She has realized that they are clues to what she had yet to figure out. She recorded each dream the next morning in a notebook that she kept between the mattress on her side of the bed. The dreams are best when she pairs Firewhisky with a Sleeping Drought and a double dose of Hangover Drought. Even more exciting, was the fact that she was able to perform non-verbal magic! Nothing serious, and not nearly as advanced as it should be, but for the very first time, she was able to turn that pesky bottle into a dragonfly.

While the rest of the castle is in the Dining Hall having dinner, Danu slips into Severus’ potion room down the hall from their bedroom, there she stays until the following morning. Severus occasionally stops by to ask her to brew Blood-Replenishing Potion and Calming Droughts during his midnight patrol, but for the most part, he had left her alone since they had returned to Hogwarts. It wasn’t until she slipped into the kitchens for a bottle of Firewhisky late one night and noticed the fall décor lining the entrance hall that she had even noticed time had slipped past her.

Danu slips into the darkened kitchen, her hand trailing along the wooden tables lining the room in the exact way they are in the dining hall above. Severus told her once that it is an exact copy so that the house-elves only need to place the food on the tables in the kitchen, and they appear on the tables in the dining hall above. She had yet to see the house-elves during her nightly prowls, but she did hear them scurrying around in their make-shift homes that lined the back walls of the kitchen. She stands on her toes to reach a bottle of Firewhisky on the top shelf of a dusty cupboard when she hears a noise behind her. She whirls around, nearly dropping the bottle in the process, and realizes that she was not alone in the kitchen. In the corner of the room, sitting at a small round table, was Dumbledore in his periwinkle blue sleeping gown and matching cap, helping himself to a rather large scoop of cranachan.

“I have had my mind set on this since dinner.” Dumbledore’s voice cuts the silence in the room, and for a moment, she freezes like a deer caught in headlights. He smiles warmly at her and beckons her closer before reaching for another saucer and scooping a second portion of the cranachan onto it. “Join me, won’t you?”

Danu places the bottle of Firewhisky on the wooden counter and joins Dumbledore. She closes her eyes as she spoons a bite of the dessert into her mouth; the nutty aroma of the toasted oats paired with the tartness of the raspberries that topped the cream almost too much for her taste buds to handle.

“I would prefer a lemon tart, but I can never say no to cranachan.” Dumbledore smiles at her over his bowl, his lips stained pink from the berries, a dribble of cream in his beard. She couldn’t help but smile back at him.

“I’ve never been a fan of sweets, but I do love a nice cranachan myself.” Danu answers, smiling back at him between bites.

“You know,” Dumbledore begins, clearing the plates from the table with the flick of his wrist, “Severus had been quite worried about you.”

“Why?” Danu’s drops her eyes to her lap and begins to pick at the skin around her thumb nail.

“He knows that you have been….unable to adjust since meeting Voldemort. He knows that you have been drinking.” Danu peaks up shyly, Dumbledore looks at her over the rim of his glasses, his blue eyes therapeutic.

“It—it isn’t like that. I….I’ve been having dreams after I drink.” Danu admits, her voice cracking slightly at the admission.

“Yes. He told me about the nightmare you had the morning after.”

“No, not that. I mean, yes, but..also no.” Danu sighs deeply, her face reddening slightly at the thought of Severus telling Dumbledore that she had a nightmare as if she were a child. “I think they’re telling me something.”

“There have been more?” Dumbledore asks as he stands and makes his way to the stove. He pulls a kettle down and begins to heat water as he readies to teacups.

“Yes. Every day since then.”

“And you believe they are telling you something?” Dumbledore turns towards her slightly and raises once brow at her, reminding her suddenly of the way Severus raises a brow at her when he wants to call her a Dunderhead. “What are they telling you?”

“I—I think they may be memories. I keep a journal of them. I write them down every morning, so I don’t forget them. I’ve never remembered my dreams before, not ever. That night, when we drank here in the kitchen, Severus gave me a hangover drought before bed. The next morning was the only time I have ever remembered a dream.”

“What makes you believe that they are memories?” Dumbledore places a steaming cup of tea before her and takes his seat, propping his elbows on the table to focus his attention on her.

“I—I don’t know. I just feel like they’re important.”

“What was the dream? The first one.”

“I was on a floor. I was so cold and hungry. Everything hurt; it felt like a thousand hot knives stabbing me all at once and I was screaming so loud. Then I was….hanging, or maybe floating, I don’t know which, but then I opened my eyes, and there was Severus. I tried to get him to help me, but I couldn’t. Then I woke up.”

“What else have you dreamt?” Dumbledore takes a sip of his tea and urges her to continue.

Danu closes her eyes, and after taking a deep breath, recounts the next several dream to Dumbledore. She was in the bedroom her and Severus shared at Spinner’s End, he was trying to pour a potion down her throat, but she was fighting him. She knew that it was him, kept telling herself that it was, but her mind could not process that it was him, that she was safe. An unnatural fear coursed through her body, pain consumed her, she knew that she was safe but could not rationalize it, could not comprehend how or why she was there.

Next, she was inside of The Three Broomsticks, and there was a man inside who frightened her, but she didn’t know why.

Finally, she told him about being in a dark room, she was cold and terrified. There was a man there, he asks her if she knows what he is going to do to her in a nasally voice. A bright red light shoots from the end of his wand and then there was nothing.

Dumbledore listens intently, the kindness in his eyes not once faltering. He stands suddenly and holds out his good hand for her. “Follow me.” He commands, and she does.

Dumbledore leads her to his office, standing proudly next to his desk is a golden mirror with clawed feet and words written in a language she did not recognize. She looks to Dumbledore, who had made his way around his desk and taken his seat behind it. He nods towards the mirror, and she steps forward. At first, all she sees is herself. Pale, scrawny, with unkempt wavy hair cascading down her shoulders. Suddenly, Severus is next to her, and the pajamas she had been wearing only seconds before were transformed into a uniform of some sorts. She had dirt beneath her fingernails, and a bit smudged on her cheek. She gasps and turns her head to the side to ask how he had appeared so suddenly, but he isn’t there. She takes a step closer, her fingertips grazing his arm in the mirror. He seemed younger, happier, there was a smile on his face. They were standing in the sunlight, he wraps his arms around her waist, whispers something in her ear, and kisses the top of her head before turning to greet someone else. A woman appears, identical to her, holding the hand of a child with black hair and piercing blue eyes. The woman smiles down at her, then turns and laughs at something Severus had said as he scoops the child up off of the ground. A pang hits her as she realizes that Sirius was not in the mirror. Perhaps it was the future, and she really would find her mother, and Sirius isn’t there because he was already dead.

“What do you see?” Danu pries her eyes from the mirror to see Dumbledore sitting behind his desk, looking at her intently.

“I see Severus, and a woman. I think she may be my mother. What is this?” Danu asks, intentionally leaving out the child, and gesturing towards the mirror that had now changed to be just an ordinary mirror.

“The Mirror of Erised.” Dumbledore stands and makes his way around the table to stand behind her in the mirror. “It shows one what they desire most in this world. Men have wasted away in front of it, not knowing if what they see is real, or even possible.”

“So, it doesn’t show the future?” She asks, her heart breaking a bit at the realization that this would not, or maybe could not, be a reality for her.

“No. It cannot predict the future. I bring it out from time to time, just for a look. It’s much too dangerous to just leave about for anyone to find. It will go back to its home tomorrow. But for tonight, well, an old man likes to dream occasionally.” Dumbledore sighs and pries his eyes from the mirror. The longing on his face told her not to ask what he saw in the mirror. “I wanted you to have a look, for you to see what your heart truly desired. Trust Severus, do not block him out. And please, try not to go opening any more doors.”

Danu tries to take Dumbledore’s advice, truly, she did. The thought that these dreams could actually be memories that her mind had blocked was just too enticing. It was like a bad sitcom, she had to keep watching to see what happened next. She saw less and less of Severus. He was sound asleep when she would enter the room in the middle of the night, and long gone when she woke sometime in the middle of the day. He stopped coming into the potions room during his midnight patrol and was usually gone on the weekends. She stopped going to the kitchens at all, instead, an elf would bring her a tray of food and a bottle of Firewhisky up to the room at some point during the day.

She stands in the her and Severus’ shared room, a bottle clutched in her fist, staring at the sucker ring of the giant squid. A chill runs through her as she stares into the razor sharp teeth inside of the sucker ring. She hadn’t intended to throw the curtains back, well, she had, but she had forgotten that it wasn’t actually a window. She had wanted some air, maybe it was the alcohol that had made her forget, or just the fact that she had locked herself in this room for months on end. Perhaps she was going crazy. The giant squid removes itself from the window, and floats away. Severus was right, it was much too murky to actually see anything. She laughs out loud at herself for being so silly, leaves the curtain open, and falls back on to the bed fully clothed, bottle still clutched in her hand.

She’s seven years old, it’s a bright and sunny summers day. She’s playing in the park in Cokeworth with the rest of the children at Bernadette’s. The child opposite her kicks the bright red ball they had been playing with too hard, and it skips down the sidewalk. Danu runs after it as fast as her little legs could carry her, up ahead, a man dressed in all black is walking towards her on the sidewalk. The ball bounces off of his shoe as he takes a step, and he snatches it out of the air just as Danu skids to a stop in front of him. She looks up at him; dark hair hangs in curtains around his face, his black eyes seem sad. The man raises a brow at her, then a crease forms in his forehead. The saddened look in his eyes deeps as she reaches out for her ball, he passes it to her reluctantly and pushes past her before she can even thank him.

Danu wakes with a jolt and sits up in the bed, she looks around the room to find the curtains have been closed. Severus sits at the desk on his side of the bed, the soft glow of lit candles lighting his face, he lifts his head from the parchment he was writing on and raises a brow at her.

“It was you.” She mutters, feeling breathless.

“What was me?” Severus asks, his voice deep and smooth. It felt like ages since she had heard it.

“The ball! In Cokeworth. The ball got away, and you caught it and gave it back to me!”

“I have no idea what you are talking about.” Severus replies, staring into her eyes. A pain shoots through her head, she closes her eyes and can see cracks of light behind her eyes and feel an unknown fear in the pit of her stomach. The pain leaves as quickly as it came, and she takes a deep breath.

“Why aren’t you in class?” Danu asks, looking around the room for any indication of the time. She can feel the rage radiating off of Severus from across the room and turns her attention back to him. Severus was gripping the quill in his hand so tightly it snaps, sending little droplets of black ink spraying across his hand and face.

“When was the last time you even left the dungeon?” He asks through grit teeth.

“I..I—”

“It is December. First day of Christmas holiday.” Severus spits at her as he wipes the ink splatter from his face with the handkerchief he kept in his pocket.

“No. It can’t be. It was ju—”

“YOU WOULD KNOW THE DATE IF YOU WEREN’T DRUNK ALL THE TIME!” Severus bellows at her, causing her to shrink into the bed as he stands and stalks towards her. He grabs the half empty bottle of Firewhisky that had fallen to the floor on her side of the bed and shakes it in her face. “If I so much as smell this on you one more time I will lock this door and you. Will. Not. Leave.”

Severus slams the bathroom door against the wall, and she watches as he pours the remainder of the bottle down the sink drain. “You are better than this!” He shouts from the bathroom before returning to the room to stare down at her. “I. Will. Not. Be married to a drunkard!”

“You don’t want to be married to me at all.” She mutters beneath her breath. Severus grabs her by the arm and jerks her from the bed before marching her into the bathroom and shoving her in front of the mirror.

“Look at yourself!” He shouts and pushes her closer to the mirror.

Her face was sunken and pale, her eyes bloodshot. Her hair hadn’t been brushed in god only knew how long and hung matted and tangled over her shoulder, the hair tie she couldn’t even remember using lost in the mounds of knots. Her skin was broken out and was a sickly color, the skin on her lips cracked and bloody. She could hardly recognize herself.

“How can you expect to be anything in this state!” He shouts at her as she pushes her body away from the mirror and stalks out of the room.

“I’M NOTHING NOW!” She shouts, turning towards him with shaking fists. The anger bubbling beneath the surface came from nowhere, but she knew that she needed to release it. “I DID EVERYTHING RIGHT AND I’M NOTHING! IT ISN’T FAIR!”

“It may have escaped your notice, but life is not fair!”

“You don’t think that I don’t know that?” She laughs as she tries to run her fingers through the knots in her hair. “I have nothing! Oh, I’m sorry. I have a husband that I didn’t ask for who does not want me, and a room I can barely leave!”

“What do you want? Tell me and I will get it for you, you know that!” Severus pleads, his voice cracking slightly.

“I don’t want your things! I want the life that I had planned! I want to work at St. Mungo, I want to see Luna, I want a life, I want Bram! I want you, damn it!” Danu slams her clenched fists against her thighs to fight the urge to scream and begins pacing the room. “I worked so hard, and for what? For nothing! I never gave up, even when you made my life hell! You did everything you could to make me fail and I didn’t, and what do I have to show for it?”

“I pushed you, and you excelled.” Severus states dryly as he takes a seat on the edge of the bed to watch her pace.

“You did not push me, you tortured me! I was terrified of you!” Danu shouts, she stops her pacing to stare down at him, her hands shaking from rage.

“It was not my job to make you like me.”

“I have done everything I can to make you like me, to be a good wife and it’s never enough! I don’t know what you want from me!”

“I do not dislike you.”

“Then why can’t you just show it?” Danu demands, her face reddening from shouting. “You know what I thought of to produce that Patronus? You! I thought about brewing potions with you because it was the only happy memory I had! Do you want to know what I saw in that mirror in Dumbledore’s office? I saw you, and you were happy to be there with me!”

“I fear that you do not understand the importance of the situation that we are both in.” Severus stands and begins to circle her like a hawk. “You need to play the part. This is not a game! So, life didn’t turn out the way you wanted it to? Join the club!”

Severus stops circling her and grabs her firmly by the shoulders, forcing all of her attention on him. She opens her mouth to speak, but he stops her before any words can leave her mouth. “I have some rules. First, there will be no more drinking. I will not tolerate this behavior. I have been far too lenient with it, and it will stop now! There are things that I need to teach you that I have been unable to teach because you’re too drunk to function. Do I make myself clear?” Danu nods her had sharply. “Good. Second, you are creating cracks in your mind that would easily be permeable to anyone powerful enough to pull them down completely. The Dark Lord will do it in a second and I assure you, you will not like the outcome. No more trying to open doors. Finally, I do care for you, so stop telling yourself that I don’t!” Severus releases her suddenly and she stumbles backwards slightly, catching herself on the back of the chaise lounge.

“Also,” Severus begins again, towering over her. “I would like to see the journal.” Danu raises a brow at him, Severus hold his hand out, waiting for her to give it to him. “Albus told me about the journal, I would like to see it.”

“That’s private!” Danu objects, suddenly self-conscious of anything he may read in there that would make him think differently of her.

“Not to The Dark Lord it isn’t. Not to me, not to Albus. Not to anyone who will break down your walls and catch a glimpse of whatever is in there that you are tearing down!”

“What do you mean by tearing down?” Danu asks, stalling the inevitable. Severus will get her journal one way or another.

“Albus believes that you have built walls in your brain to protect yourself from….unsavory memories. He believes that this is why you are unable to use non-verbal magic, Apparate, and why your mind is impenetrable. You are tearing down these walls with your insistent dedication to disregard everything Albus warned you of.” Severus stalks towards her and stared down his nose at her, no doubt an attempt to intimidate her into getting what he wanted. She stands tall in defiance. “I already know that it is under the mattress; anyone with a brain would know that. I am not an idiot. I was giving you the option of dignity, but we can do it the hard way, if you wish.”

Reluctantly, Danu moves to her side of the bed to retrieve the dream journal from under the mattress. With shaking hands, she passes it to Severus. He takes her hand and leads her to the small dining table in front of the window and pours them each a cup of coffee from the carafe in the center and prepares hers just the way she liked it; a touch of vanilla, two sugars, and double cream. His is black, as usual. Danu keeps her eyes glued to her mug of coffee, her face reddening slightly at the sound of him turning the pages in the nearly full notebook. Hesitantly, she looks over at the journal to see which dream he was reading about.

She was fifteen and at Bernadette’s for the summer. A boy had taken a liking to her and followed her around like a lost dog. In her dream, he was nameless, whatever his name was had been lost to her. He was handsome, with tanned skin, shaggy brown hair, and eyes so green you got lost in them. He wore a brown leather jacket, even in the dead of summer. The boy was older than her, that much was clear. Danu’s face blushed each time he spoke to her, when his fingertips grazed her hand in pacing, butterflies flocked in her stomach. There were snippets of them kissing in darkened halls, but never anything more than that. She cried on the train back to Hogwarts at the end of summer. Upon her return to Bernadette’s for Christmas holiday, she learned that he had been killed in an automobile accident only weeks after she had left.

When Danu was thirteen, she got her first Buddy. A Buddy was a younger child that the older children helped watch, care for, and lead in a sense. Since she was only there during the summers at this point, her buddy was a seven-month-old little girl that had only recently been placed at Bernadette’s. She knew the chances of the girl being adopted were high; she was young and absolutely adorable. She had curly blonde hair, big blue eyes, and dimples on her cheeks when she smiled, which was all of the time. She carried the baby around everywhere, she taught her to sit up, taught her to crawl, and her first legible word was “Anu” which Danu was convinced was her own name. She sobbed while holding her for the final time while waiting for her new parents to finalize the paperwork to adopt her at the end of the summer.

Finally, Severus read the one that frightened her the most. She was nine, maybe ten. She was in a home, one that she could not recall ever being in. There was a mother, a father, and three girls besides herself. She didn’t know which were their own children, and which were products of Bernadette’s. The mother wasn’t there; the dream had begun with her grabbing her purse, kissing the father goodbye, and walking out of the door. He gave all of the girls ice cream for dinner, told them that it had to be their secret. Then he built them a fort in the living room and let them stay up late playing with their dolls. She woke in the middle of the night with his hand up her nightgown as he toyed with himself next to her. He held his finger to his lips and smiled at her when he realized that she was awake. She cried afterwards, and the girl lying next to her, who couldn’t have been any older than eight, told her that it was a game he played with them all, and to just let him do it so that they could keep having ice cream for dinner. The next day at breakfast, the father pulled her on to his lap and stroked her hair while the mother made breakfast. She wanted to vomit, to cling to the mother’s skirt and tell her what had happened, but he pulled her closer against his chest and told the mother how she was such a good girl and listened well the night before.

Danu forces her eyes back on her mug and swallows a knot in her throat, desperate not to spill any tears. Severus doesn’t say a word, only sits in silence for what felt like a lifetime. Everything her brain had deemed too sensitive for her young mind to process had been blocked out, and now was written in ink before them. It did not feel like her life, did not feel like anything that she had ever lived through. She had no attachments to any of these memories, only a dull ache in the pit of her stomach, because this was her life, these despicable things actually happened to her. She wanted to cry for that little girl, to scoop her up in her arms and protect her from everything she had experienced.

Except, she did protect that little girl. She subconsciously put those walls up in her brain to do just that, and in only a few short months, she had torn all of that hard work down. She could not truly remember any of the events in the journal, only the pain and terror she felt upon waking when she relived them in her dreams. Severus grabs the hand she had clenched in her lap, causing her to jump slightly. She looks up at him as he removes his hand from hers and reaches into the sleeve of his robe to produce his wand. Without uttering a word, the journal bursts into flames before her eyes. She jumps from her chair and makes to grab for the journal, to save it from the fire he had inflicted upon it, but he grabs her from behind and pins her arms to her side and holds her there until the journal is nothing more than a pile of ash in the center of the table.

“Why did you do that!” Danu sobs, tears streaming down her face as he releases her. She rushes towards the table to see if any part of the journal could be saved, but she already knew that it couldn’t.

“Look at me.” Severus demands, but she can’t take her eyes off of the pile of ashes. He grabs her by her shoulders, uses his foot to turn her chair away from the table, and pushes her down in the chair she had been sitting at moments before. With his hands still on her shoulders, he uses his foot to scrape his own across the floor to sit directly in front of hers, their knees brushing one another.
“That,” Severus says, pointing towards the pile of ash on the table. “Does not define you. When this is over, if you want to know more, I will help you. Safely. There will be no more blackout drunks, we will do it correctly. Until then, just stop. You are far too intelligent to continue on the road you were heading down. I should have stopped you far before now, but I had misguided faith that you would see the error of your ways.”

“I just needed to know who I was.” Danu whispers, tears streaming down her face. “I needed to feel something. I thought if I kept going, I could see her. My mom. I just wanted to see her in my dreams. I needed to know why she left me.”

“I told you; we will find her after.”

“What if we can’t? What if….what if she’s dead, too?” Danu chokes on a sob as Severus pulls her against his chest.

“Why didn’t Sirius want me? I waited my whole life for a family, and I finally find him, and he doesn’t want me!” Danu demands as Severus holds her tighter against his chest. She clutches the sleeves of his robe tightly, her fingernails digging into her palms from the backside of the fabric.

“He told you it was too dangerous. He did what he thought he should do.” Severus grits through his teeth, undoubtedly hating having to say anything remotely nice about Sirius Black.

“Did you know her?” Danu demands as she pushes herself off of him to look in his eyes. “My mother. Did you know her? You said you knew Sirius, and James Potter, and all of their friends from Hogwarts. You grew up in Cokeworth, too. Did you know her?”

“No.” Severus swallows hard and balls a fist in his lap as she cries before him, desperate to know anything about the woman who created her. “I met her, a few times. I did not know her.”

“What was she like?” Danu’s eyes light up at the thought that he had even seen her face in real life, had possibly even heard her voice, seen her smile, heard her laugh.

“I did not know her well enough to know what she was like.” Severus sighs deeply and softens his eyes, the crease in his forehead smoothing slightly. “You look like her.”

Chapter Text

Fools who wear their hearts proudly on their sleeves, who cannot control their emotions, who wallow in sad memories and allow themselves to become provoked to tears, they are weak. They stand no chance in the real world, the world outside of their own egotistical bubble. They lack self-control and mental discipline.

Severus hates seeing people cry. Not in the sense that it makes him sad, no, it makes him angry; borderline furious. He wanted to shake them, tell them to get it together and toughen up! There had only ever been three people whom he could even stomach being around when they cried; his mother, when she allowed it, Lily, when she was pushed to it, and his wife, when she succumb to it.

Seeing her drink her life away terrified him, he knew what happened to people who stooped to that level of debauchery. He saw it firsthand throughout his childhood, watched how it destroyed his mother’s life. It had always been his greatest fear that he would become his father, now, he was watching his wife become him. Albus told him to let her work it out, that she was intelligent enough to know when to stop. Week after week he watched as the once quick-witted and clever young woman became nothing more than a common tosspot.

The final straw came in December, when he went to the greenhouse that he had reserved specifically for her to see what progress she had made on her gardening and found everything in the same spot he had left it when he stocked it for her in secret all throughout the summer. The seedlings he had placed on the long wooden table were long dead and bone dry. The packets of seeds he had carefully selected for her were left unopened. In mid-June, on one of their evening walks, she had spotted a common Muggle house plant in the window of a shop and stopped to admire it. She hadn’t asked him to purchase it for her, but the way her face lit up when she saw its strange hole filled leaves filled him with so much joy that he went out first thing the next morning and bought it for her. She had smiled up at him brightly when he presented it to her and doted after it all summer. He had made her leave it behind when they packed their belongings to return to Hogwarts under the guise that it wouldn’t receive enough sunlight in the dungeon to survive, and magic just couldn’t be enough for a Muggle plant. The way her face fell made his heart ache. He did not want to ruin the surprise, though. He wanted her to walk into this greenhouse and it be the first thing she saw on the table when she opened the door. That plant was now nothing more than a crunchy brown mass in a white ceramic pot. He gave her the key to the greenhouse upon their return to Hogwarts, and she hadn’t entered it once.

Severus marched down to the dungeon to give her a piece of his mind, only to find her pacing the room talking to herself, bottle clutched in her hand. She stopped, threw the curtains open, stared at the giant squid stuck to the window, laughed loudly, and fell back on the bed. She didn’t even hear him enter the room. She was snoring before he crossed the room, so he righted her in bed, leaving her fully clothed, and sat the bottle she had dropped upright on the floor, so his room didn’t reek of Firewhisky for the rest of eternity. Severus didn’t sleep that night, he stayed up pacing and fuming until he could finally sit at his desk in the room to grade that days pop quizzes to hand back once his students returned from holiday.

Severus remembered the day he saw the young girl in Cokeworth that looked so much like Lily he had to go straight home and dunk his head in cold water to prove to himself that he was not losing his mind. He did not know that it was her, not even when he saw her, years later, under the Sorting Hat. He hadn’t thought about that day in years. If she hadn’t jerked from her sleep and reminded him of it, he probably never would have thought of it again.

It was early July; Severus was twenty-four years old and back at Spinner’s End where he did not want to be. He had spent the day cleaning the decrepit home, he was stuffed up from all of the dust and desperate for air, real air. So, he crossed the filthy river and found himself outside of what had once been the Evans’ home. His feet had instinctively led him there as he walked with his head down, watching pebbles dance off the toes of his black leather shoes. When he looked up, the first thing he saw was the skinny, sick looking alder tree in the right corner of the front garden had finally been chopped down. Lily would often come running out of the front door barefooted, her mother calling from the opened door to put her shoes on, and step on holly leaves that had fallen from the bushes lining the front of the house. Petunia would laugh as he would kneel before her and help pull the thorn lined leaves from her feet. Those holly bushes were now larger than he had ever seen them. Mr. Evans made it a point to keep them well pruned and small, so he could watch the neighborhood out of the front window in the evenings when he returned from work. Someone had finally painted the exterior of the house a white color, instead of the dusted yellow that Lily hated so much. He smiled slightly at this, wondering if white would have been a better color in her opinion.

A car pulls up to the house just as he was imagining whether or not the carpet that Mrs. Evans painstakingly cleaned was still as vibrant green as he last saw it. A blonde-haired woman, precisely the same height and shape as Mrs. Evans had been unloads a small brown-haired boy and several bags of shopping before disappearing inside. With a sigh, Severus peels his feet from the sidewalk and makes his way back to the other side of the river where he belonged. Halfway home, a streak of red ahead catches his eye. He realizes he is directly in front of the park where he had first met Lily, where they had spent so much time together. A bright red ball bounces off of the toe of his shoe, he catches it midair, only to look down into the small pink face of a girl that looked so much like Lily he almost passes out from shock.

When she was still his student, Severus would occasionally catch a glimpse of the girl standing out in the snow, her head angled up to the sky, catching snowflakes on the tip of her tongue. He had never managed to get that image out of his head. She was so tranquil, so innocent during those times. There was only six students left at the school for winter break, but he couldn’t risk them seeing her there with him. So, he wakes her before dawn on Christmas morning, helps her dress warmly, and drags her through the dungeon, despite her drowsy protests for more sleep, and watches as her eyes light up when she steps through the courtyard into the snow. Thick white globs of snow cling to her hair and eyelashes, a wide grin is plastered to her face. Suddenly, her pink tongue pokes out from between her lips to catch a flake on her tongue. She grabs his hand and drags him from beneath the safety of the courtyard awning and smiles up at him before wrapping her arms around his middle and resting her head on his chest. It was only the second time she had willingly touched him since September; the first time she had touched him without crying.

Later that evening they sit before a roaring fire in their room. Severus grips his arm; a dull ache makes its presence known. The Dark Lord was calling to them, he chooses to ignore it. He will come up with an excuse; perhaps Albus required his assistance, maybe his wife was ill again. The Dark Lord was usually lenient with Severus during the school year, not expecting him to be available at the drop of a hat. He will gladly take whatever punishment He had in store for him for skipping, if it meant he could have one good evening with his wife. This could potentially be his final Christmas; he had never been one for celebrations or tradition, but this is one he wanted to remember in whatever afterlife there may be.

Severus stands and retrieves two brightly wrapped boxes he had stashed in his trunk in the back of the bedroom. Inside of one wrapped box was a silver chain with a clasping mechanism and a decorative glass vial, meant to hold potions. In the other was an old, leather-bound copy of her favorite book, Agnes Grey, a copy of Gimms’ Fairy Tales, which she had expressed interest in reading, and a copy of Little Women, which the Muggle shop attendant recommended while he was paying for the other two books. Severus places the packages on her lap without a word, and steps back to watch her open them, a tight smile on his lips. She smiles up at him brightly, her blue eyes shimmering in the firelight.

“I wasn’t able to get you anything.” She whispers, her cheeks tuning slightly pink.

“I did not expect you to get me anything.” Severus answers honestly. Albus and Lily were the only ones who had ever gotten him a gift, and the majority of Albus’ had been jokes at his own expense.

“But it’s Christmas. I feel bad. I wish I could have gotten you something…but I don’t have any money.” Severus watches as she brushes the leather books with the pad of her thumb. The thought of giving her money hadn’t crossed his mind, he had always been on top of anything she might be running out of and replaced the items for her.

“If you could ask for anything in the world, what would it be?” She asks him suddenly, catching him off guard. He hesitates for a moment, not knowing how to answer.

“There is nothing that I need.” Severus whispers before turning to stoke the fire.

“Come on. There has to be something.” She pries, Severus sighs and turns from the fire to take his seat next to her once more.

“Freedom.” Severus finally whispers back to her.

She stands suddenly, placing the gifts in her lap on the lounge as she stands and grabs his hand to pull him up from his seat. Severus obliges her and looks down into her big blue eyes.

“Remember the Yule Ball?” She asks suddenly as she looks up into his eyes, a slight smile on her face. He raises a brow at her, silently asking what she meant. “I thought you looked so handsome. I wanted to ask you to dance while we were standing in the courtyard, before you brought me to your office.”

Severus doesn’t reply, just stares down into his wife’s eyes. He would gladly die a thousand deaths for her, if it meant she was safe and happy. But he couldn’t, because if he were gone, who would protect her? Who would hold her when she woke up with a nightmare? Who would tell her that she was not a partial Squib and prove to her that she could do anything that she set her mind to? Who would comb her hair after a bath? Who would be the perfect height compared to her, so that she could rest her head against their chest and listen to their heartbeat? Who would make her coffee with two sugars, double cream, and a touch of vanilla? Who would buy her books, and look forward to her retelling of them after she finished them? Who would watch her grin as she held a freshly brewed potion up to the light after she had bottled it? It had to be him. He needed it to be him. Amycus Carrow may have liked what he saw when he spotted her in The Three Broomsticks last summer and believed that she was his for the taking, to do with as he pleased, any number of men may have the same thoughts as she passes them by, but she wore his grandmothers ring, she carried his name. Severus saw her first, molded her to become the talented potions mistress that she now was. He watched her become strong and powerful, he read, and saw firsthand everything that she had overcome. He knew her body inside and out, held her as she sobbed. She trusted him with her entire being.

She is his.

“Will you dance with me?” She asks, pulling him from his thoughts. “I didn’t get a Yule Ball dance. You owe me.”

“That was your own fault. I seem to recall finding you in an empty courtyard, with the excuse of needing air.” Severus smirks down at her, remembering how striking she looked in that blue dress against the snow.

“Please?” With her big blue eyes staring up at him so convincingly, how could he say no?

“There is no music.” Severus answers shyly as he brings her hand up to his shoulder and snakes his own around her waist before pulling her body in closer to his.

“Don’t you have an imagination?” She asks as he spins her around the room with the tune of Can’t Help Falling in Love ringing in his head.

Chapter Text

Severus lies on his back in bed, one arm thrown over his eyes, the hand of the other clenching the bed sheets tightly. His teeth bite into his lower lip as his wife, who was kneeling between his spread legs, works her hand up and down his throbbing erection as her tongue circles the tip. She had woken him thirty minutes before his alarm went off that morning, nipping his neck and massaging his thigh. At first, he had thought it was a dream, but when a deep moan escaped his lips and jerked him awake, he couldn’t say that he was angry.

He removes his arm from over his eyes, flicks his wrist to light a candle, and grips her hair tightly with his now free hand, the other remains tangled in the sheets, clenching and unclenching as she moves her head up and down. She looks up into his eyes, his mouth opens slightly, his nostrils flare. He can’t help but to notice how beautiful she looks while her rosy lips are wrapped around him. He has to throw his head back against the pillow to keep from spilling right then and there. His shoulders arch off of the mattress, his hand remains on the back of her head, pressing down ever so slightly.

Words come from his mouth that he wouldn’t dare utter under any other circumstance; he finds himself begging, no, pleading, for her not to stop, to keep going. One of her hands rests on his thigh, drawing tight circles with the pad of her thumb, the other grips him firmly around the base. The true magic, and yes, this is pure magic, is her mouth. The softness of it, the warmth and delicacy, it was unlike being inside of her in the usual sense. This is what turns men in to squirming piles of nothing. This is pure ecstasy.

The hand gripping his thigh suddenly comes forward to grip his testicles, he jerks violently at the feeling of it. He had never even touched himself there other than to clean himself. The sensation was almost too much, but he wouldn’t dare tell her to stop. She hums each time he hits the back of her throat, the vibration sending pleasure throughout his entire body. He clenches his toes against the sheets, his legs begin to shake as hers do when he rubs his thumb against her clitoris. He is close, so very close, but he does not want this to end.

Severus tries to regulate his breathing, tries to relax his body, tries desperately to keep from having an orgasm so soon, but he cannot. He looks down into her eyes once more, saliva pools against her fist clenched around him, her eyes are glazed over in what looks to be her own desire, her cheeks are pink, and her lips are rosy. God, is she beautiful. As if she can sense his impending climax, she removes him from her mouth, sticks her tongue against the tip of his erection, and uses her fist to pump up and down the length of him. He moans loudly and watches as the thick streams land on her lips, tongue, and deep in her mouth. She swallows, licks her lips, then wraps those lips around his tip once more. Her tongue twirls around him, causing his entire body to spasm. He grips her hair tightly as she releases him with a pop and kisses the tip. Severus releases her hair as she slides her body up his, her fingertips lightly brushing up his body leave a trail of goosebumps. She kisses beneath his earlobe, tickling him slightly and causing him to bring his shoulder up to his head.

“Happy birthday, Severus.” She whispers into his ear before turning abruptly and planting a wet kiss on to his still open mouth. She tasted of morning breath and the saltiness of his semen, and he could not care less.

She is a Succubus.

Severus lies there, unable to move, as his alarm blares next to him. She gets up, shuts it off, and disappears into the bathroom. His legs are numb, his heart pounds in his chest as he attempts to form any coherent thought. Who had taught her to do that? No, he mustn’t think of that. He did not care. Ah, yes. His birthday. Today he is thirty-seven years old, and if this morning were any indication of how his day would progress, he has to say, it is the best birthday he has ever had. It is also their first anniversary, though she did not know that. He would have liked to take her out to dinner, or perhaps just stay in bed with her all day.

The night Draco Malfoy was born was one of the most nerve-wracking nights Severus could remember having. Lucius sent for him midway through the day on Wednesday, fourth of June. Narcissa, apparently having great difficulty bringing the child into the world, asked for him specifically. He was to brew potions for her, to help alleviate the pain she had been enduring for hours at that point. The potions provided by the midwives sent from St. Mungo’s were not working, and he obliged. Lucius paced the parlor, brandy glass in hand, Severus sat chain smoking as his cauldron bubbled away.

Finally, shortly after three in the morning on the fifth of June, a midwife stuck her head into the parlor to summon Lucius upstairs. Severus watched as Lucius’ face turned a sickly white, the midwife had to assure him that all was well, and that he was a father. Lucius ran from the room, his cloak trailing behind him. Severus stood and resumed Lucius’ abandoned pacing.

A short while later, Lucius burst through the parlor door, a wide grin plastered to his face. He was holding a squealing mass loosely wrapped in a white blanket as he made his way over to Severus, who was at this point stopped next to the marble fireplace.

“A son.” Lucius announces proudly. “I have a son.”

“Congratulations.” Severus states as he glances down at the new, and very loud child.

“Draco Lucius Malfoy.” Lucius grins. “Narcissa and I would like to ask you to be his godfather. If you will accept the title.”

“It would be an honor.” Severus mumbles, his heart hammers slightly in his chest as Lucius passes him the squirming, screaming mass. He had never held a baby before.

The weight and warmth of Draco in his arms felt foreign, but his heart relaxed slightly as the infant ceased its protests and gnawed on its clenched fist instead. Draco was bald with an elongated head, chubby faced, and slightly pink. He smelled foreign; an earthy, motherly scent. Severus gazed down at him in awe as Lucius raved about what his son would become, the things that he would do. Severus vowed silently to himself, and to the child, that he would do whatever it took to make sure he lived up to his name and greatness.

Sixteen years Severus molded young Draco’s’ mind. For sixteen years Draco made him proud; not socially by any means, he was an arrogant and spoiled little ass. Academically, however, Draco lived up to everything Severus had hoped he would. He was proud to be his godfather.

“I hear congratulations are in order.” Severus states as he comes up behind his godson standing at the top of the clock tower, the setting sun turning his blond hair a dull orange color. The Dark Lord had arranged Draco’s marriage to Flora Carrow during the winter holiday, at the meeting he and his wife had skipped.

“I will not marry her.” Draco whips himself around to face Severus and sneers, eyes narrowed in anger.

“He has ordered it, so it shall be.” Severus offers, feeling slightly bad for the poor boy and his choice for a mate. “I must offer my help once more, Draco. Please, let me assist you.”

“I told you, no!” Draco shouts as he stomps his foot. There is the spoiled little boy he knew so well. “Just go back to your room with your half-blood whore of a wife and leave me alone.”

Severus stalks towards Draco and stares down his nose at him, his fists clenched in anger. “If I ever hear you address my wife in that manner again, I will make you wish it were you in Azkaban.” Severus turns abruptly before Draco has a chance to lift his jaw from the floor, and stomps down the stairs.

Severus makes his way to the dungeon, desperate to get off of his feet. It had been a long, exhausting day. What had started out as a fantastic birthday that morning, has proven to be just as he had imagined; shitty. Potter, Weasley, Granger, and Longbottom were their usual selves. They wouldn’t give him a break if he had begged for one. Upon opening his bedroom door, he found it pitch black and eerily silent. His heart sinks for a moment, thinking that his wife was somewhere drinking again. Just then, a single small flame lights up the room, he follows the glow to the far side of the room where the small dining table sits.

“Happy birthday.” His wife whispers in the darkness as her hand finds his shoulder. He lets her sit him in his spot at the table as she slides what he now sees is a plate with a rather large slice of cake in front of him. The candle glow he had followed was a single candle placed in the center of the slice of cake. “Make a wish.”

Severus blows the candle out in one swift blow, plummeting them into total darkness. With the flick of his wrist, he lights the remaining candles in the room and turns to look into her smiling face.

He had wished for her. For her health, happiness, and most of all, for her continued love and admiration.

“I didn’t know what kind of cake you liked. I’ve never seen you eat any sweets besides cinnamon disks, and I couldn’t really put a candle in one of those.” She rambles as he looks down at the slice of Victoria sponge cake filled with strawberry jam and thick buttercream, teetering on top was a single fresh strawberry dusted with icing sugar. “Anyway, Dumbledore had this cake in the kitchen, and told me I could bring you a slice. I hope that’s okay. It isn’t much, but I wanted to do something for you.”

Severus swallows a lump in his throat. This was more than anyone had ever done for him, that mornings surprise wakeup call included. His mother had never had enough money to spare to do anything for his birthday, his father chose to ignore it. Lily and Mrs. Evans had made him a chocolate cake for his eleventh birthday, Petunia quickly smashed her fist into it when she learned who it was for. It was the first and only time Severus had ever seen Mrs. Evans spank either of her children. Afterwards, she let Severus and Lily eat spoonful’s of frosting on the back stoop as snow fell around them, listening to Petunia whimper from behind her bedroom door.
—

With his wife on his arm, Severus walks into Malfoy Manor, head held high as he removes the black cloak draped across her shoulders and hangs it on a hook near the main entrance. He turns to his wife and offers his arm once more, his eyes dancing across her body. She is wearing an emerald green, long sleeve velvet dress. The collar hugs her throat tightly, the back swoops down into a deep V right above her rear. He chose this dress specifically for this occasion; if Amycus Carrow is in attendance tonight, he wants to rub in his face exactly what belongs to him. The fabric hugs her body deliciously. Red curls cascade down her back, the red on her lips accentuates her full lower lip and sharp cupids bow. She is utterly stunning. Dare he say, the most beautiful woman he has ever seen.

Seated in the parlor is Bellatrix and Narcissa, The Dark Lord had excused himself moments before their arrival. Bellatrix stands and circles them, her eyes narrowed on his wife. Severus sneers at her, his eyes never leaving her wand hand. His wife’s hand was tucked into his right elbow, he uses his left hand to cover hers in a protective manor.

“Look who it is Cissy, our dear cousin Missus Snape.” Bellatrix mocks. Narcissa doesn’t make a sound, his wife looks up at him, her big blue eyes full of question. She had not been made aware of her relation to Bellatrix and Narcissa.

“I wonder,” Bellatrix continues, circling his wife like a hawk as she trembles at his side. “Just how deep her loyalty to dear old dad lies. Tell me, Severus, did she cry when she learned of what I did to daddy dearest?” Bellatrix makes a pouting face, then cackles as she comes to a stop behind them, her face between both of their shoulders, her breath hot on their necks.

“That’s quite enough, Bella.” The Dark Lord hisses as he enters behind them. He feels his wife shudder on his arm. Bellatrix smirks at him as he sneers at her, then skips away to trail after The Dark Lord, who had now made his way across the room to stand beside Narcissa. Draco, who had been granted a weekend pass from Hogwarts, files in behind them.

“Such a shame, my dear, that you are not a Slytherin. You look truly ravishing in green.” The Dark Lord hisses, his red snake eyes lingering longer than he would like on his wife’s body. Bellatrix makes a gagging sound in the back of her throat; Draco’s face turns a light shade of pink as he catches Severus’ eye. The Dark Lord pours himself a glass of brandy and takes his seat next to Narcissa before the roaring fire.

“Th—thank you.” His wife murmurs after he squeezes her hand reassuringly.

“I must say, Severus, you are lucky I allowed you to take on this endeavor. It seems you are getting much more satisfaction out of her than I am.” The Dark Lord chuckles, Bellatrix cackles as she stands behind him massaging his shoulders. “Put a beautiful woman on your arm and suddenly you forget to check in. You fail to come when called upon.”

“I apologize, My Lord. I was busy with Dumbledore; I could not get away. We came as soon as we could.”

“We can’t trust them, My Lord.” Bellatrix whisper-yells from behind the Dark Lord, her eyes boring into Severus’.

Severus feels Him attempt to penetrate his mind. He relaxes his senses, erases his thoughts. He produces a false memory, one where he is healing Albus with nothing more than Calming Draught dyed a vibrant red color to mimic Antidote to Uncommon Poisons. The Dark Lord’s presence snakes from his brain, only for his eyes to turn towards his wife.

“And what of you, my dear? What news do you bring me?” The Dark Lord asks calmly, his voice sending shivers down even Severus’ spine.

“Don’t trust her, My Lord. Don’t listen to her.” Bellatrix hisses in his ear. The Dark Lord lifts his hand, and Bellatrix goes flying backwards onto the ground. She feebly lifts herself, lip curled, and eyes narrowed on Severus. He sneers at her, daring her to speak again.

“OUT BELLA!” The Dark Lord bellows, his wife trembles at his side once more as Bellatrix backs out of the room, her eyes never leaving his.

With Bellatrix finally out of the room, Severus offers his wife a seat on the sofa opposite Narcissa and The Dark Lord. He pulls a vial from his cloak and holds it up, it’s clear liquid gleaming in the candlelight. The Dark Lord nods his head slightly as Severus unscrews the silver topper and passes the vial to his wife, who takes it with trembling hands and swallows it in one gulp. Severus angles his body towards hers, he watches as her pupils dilate slightly with the addition of Calming Draught to the vial. Not enough to truly hinder her mind, but enough to allow her to get through a sentence without stuttering and shaking. The Dark Lord leans forward in his seat, eager to hear what she has to say. Draco stares down at his feet, his arms clasped to her mother’s shoulders. Narcissa is focused on a spot on the wall, either unknowing, or uncaring that they are even there. Hs wife sighs deeply, runs her palms down her velvet coated thighs, and lifts her head to meet His.

“Dumbledore is out of the castle more than he is in. He is weak; weaker than I have ever seen him. He is guarding something in his office, I am close to finding out what it is. He has me brewing Blood-Replenishing Potions for him daily, as if he is using them to strengthen himself.” Her voice is smooth and clear, and oh so feminine. She memorized word for word what he had instructed her to say. She did good, better than he could have anticipated. Severus sighs in relief as The Dark Lord sits back in his chair and chuckles slightly.

“Well done my dear.” He hisses. “Find out what he has in that office. I am counting on you.”

Severus leads his wife from parlor, dragging her slightly to keep up with him. Propped against the door frame, as if attempting to listen to the goings on inside, stand Amycus Carrow. Bellatrix scurries from his side as Severus and his wife step through the doorway. Severus stands a bit taller; he had taken the utmost pride in not only his wife’s appearance that evening, but his as well. His boots gleamed in the candlelight, reflecting Amycus’ angry red pig face. His hair was freshly washed and longer than he had worn it in years, the ends curling up ever so slightly as they brushed his shoulders. The robes he had purchased specifically for this night were the best he had ever warn and fit him well. A thin golden band, nearly identical to the one his wife wears fit snuggly around the fourth finger on his left hand. The shop attendant commented that it looked too feminine for his tall stature and large hands, but he liked it, and his wife gleamed when she noticed on his hand while they were readying earlier that evening. He wanted to smirk in Bellatrix’s face when she noticed him wearing it, but if she had, she did not mention it.

“Amycus.” Severus nods smoothly as he passes the squat, lumpy body of the man he despised with nearly everything in his.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watches as his wife turns her head over her shoulder as she hears the wheezy chuckle coming from Amycus, and the blood drains from her face. Severus quickens his stride, practically dragging her from the home as he feels her breath begin to quicken. Before they could make it to the gates to apparate back to Hogwarts, she begins to hyperventilate.

Outside of his wife, no one had seen is corporal Patronus since he was fifteen years old. Severus and Lily practiced all year long, and finally, shortly before the end of term their fourth year, a silvery doe shot from the tips of both of their wands. Lily jumped from her seat, grabbed his hands, and jumped in a circle, dragging him with her. The way she laughed and smiled that night would be burned into his memory for the rest of his life.

Severus tries desperately to pry his wife’s hands from her face as she scratches and tears at her skin and pulls at her hair. Her skin is red and slicked with sweat, the words coming from her mouth are breathy and indecipherable.

He cannot parade her through the castle in this condition, no matter how late in the evening it may be. Severus pulls his wand from the sleeve of his robes, produces a non-corporal Patronus, and turns to is wife once more in an attempt to calm her. From the silvery glow of the stream of light barreling through the air, he catches a glimpse of the fear in his wife’s eyes. She had recognized Amycus Carrow. He wraps his arms around her from behind and pins them to her side as she thrashes and screams in his arms. He is making whatever ails her worse, he knows this, but he cannot let her harms herself or run off into the darkness.

A soft pop in the distance catches his attention, for a moment, he believes it may be Albus and lets out a sigh of relief. This relief is short lived when the intruder mumbles Lumos and illuminates their face with a soft white glow. Before them stands Draco, looking just as frightened as his wife.

Draco surveys the image before him and readies himself to run through the Hogwarts gates. Severus removes one arm from around his wife and reaches into his robes for his ring of keys, separates the key to his private brewing room, and thrusts it into Draco’s hand. The boy stands there shocked, mouth slightly gaped as he surveys the commotion before him.

“Draco!” Severus snarls as he uses every bit of his strength to keep his wife upright. “Go to my room, get Calming Draught.” Draco stands there a moment shaking his head slightly, still processing what he was seeing.

“NOW!” Severus bellows. Draco jumps and scurries off into the darkness, keys jingling at his side.

Moments pass by as if they were hours as she thrashes and writhes in his arms. Despite the frigid air, her body is hot and slick with sweat. Severus has one arm wrapped around her chest, the other wrapped around her middle, holding her tightly against his body. His mouth is next to her ear, her hair tickles his nose in the late night gusts of icy winds. In the distance, footsteps crunch against the frozen snow.

Please be Albus.
Please be Albus.

To his relief, is Albus coming through the gates dressed in a deep purple robe, his lit wand held out to illuminate is steps. In the distance, another light bobs shakily across the yard, no doubt Draco returning with the potion he had been sent for.

“What has happened?” Albus questions, his voice cool and calm. \

“I believe she recognized Amycus Carrow.” Severus spits.

“It was a risk we have discussed.” Albus states coldly as he circles the two of them slowly. “Is that Mister Malfoy I hear coming?”

“Yes.”

“Ah. Let’s hope tonight is not the night he decides to act.” Albus winks with a slight chuckle. This was no time for jokes.

Draco’s comes to a screeching halt at their side and holds out a shaking hand with two vials of Calming Draught. Albus takes them with a warm smile, pops the top, and comes closer. Severus removes his arm from around her middle, pulls her head against his neck, and pinches her cheeks to open her mouth. Albus pours the liquid down her throat as Severus clasps her mouth closed with one hand until she swallows. Suddenly, she goes limp against his body. He bends slightly, places one arm behind her knees, the other behind her shoulders, and lifts her form the ground. Draco stands there trembling slightly, eyes darting between the three of them before him.

“Ah. Young Draco.” Albus announces calmly. Draco straightens himself in an attempt to seem under control. “Why don’t you run ahead, make sure no one is lurking about? Clear a path to the dungeon for us.”

Draco does not utter a word, instead he turns and runs back the way he came. Albus leads the way, gazing longingly up at the stars lighting their path as they walk slowly back to the castle. Severus glances down at his wife’s now calm face as they come into the light of the Entrance Hall. She is not asleep, but her eyes are closed, her red lashes resting on her rosy cheeks. Her breathing had regulated itself, she no longer struggled in his arms.

Once in his private quarters, Severus lies her on the chaise lounge and lights a fire. Albus takes a seat opposite her, as Draco stands awkwardly in the doorway, his eyes darting around the room. Despite being his godson, he had never stepped foot in his private quarters. Severus stands and grips Draco’s arm tightly, leading him away from the room and back towards the Slytherin common room. He takes one last look into the room as he closes the door; Albus was leaning forward smoothing his wife’s hair from her sweaty face, mumbling something to her that only she could hear.

“I trust, Draco,” Severus begins as he stares down his nose at Draco outside of the Slytherin common room entrance, his voice icy and smooth. Draco is a tall boy for his age, but Severus towers over him. “That what you witnessed tonight stays between the two of us.”

“Wha—what happened?” Draco asks, his voice cracking slightly.

“It is no matter. Can I trust that you will not speak of this to anyone?”

“Was it…was it him?” Draco whispers in the dark.

“If you mean The Dark Lord, no. It was not him.”

“Then what? Di—did you do something to her?” Draco’s voice, no matter how small, was accusatory. Severus clenches his fists at his side.

“Are you insinuating that I harmed my wife?” Severus sneers.

“Well, did you? I mean, I show up, and she’s going mad. It was just you and her out there!”

“No. I did not harm her. I was trying to prevent her from harming herself.”

“Why would she harm herself?”

“Draco, go to sleep. Do not repeat tonight’s events to anyone.” Severus sighs as he pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Swear it.” Draco states defiantly, straightening his back. “Swear that it was nothing that you did.”

“Why?” Severus asks quietly, removing his hand from the bridge of his nose to raise a brow at Draco.

“Because….Because I do not wish to lose you, too.” Draco’s eyes soften, the look on his face reminding him of the time he exploded a cauldron when he was five years old. Severus softens his gaze slightly, reminding himself that Draco is the closest thing to a son he will ever have.

“Then let me help you, Draco.” Severus pleads once more.

“No! You know that I cannot!” Draco exclaims as he throws his hands in the air abruptly before running them over his slick backed hair.

“Draco—”

“Just swear it, Severus. Please.” Draco begs, his dazzling grey eyes threatening to spill tears he had not seen in many years.

“Very well.” Severus starts, not wanting to prolong yet another argument over Draco’s reluctance to accept his assistance. “I swear, Draco. I appreciate your concern for my wife’s wellbeing, as well as your assistance this evening.”

Severus turns without another word and makes his way down the darkened corridor to his own private quarters. His footsteps reverberating off of the cold stone floor the only sound in the dungeon. He is reminded suddenly of his first day as professor; how nervous he was, how apprehensive the fellow professors were to have him alongside them. Severus had wanted someone to be proud of him, not for what he had done to land himself the position, but for being the youngest Hogwarts professor in centuries. Minerva eventually came around, and while she probably would not call the two of them friends, they had grown to have a mutual respect and admiration for one another. Severus on the other hand, regarded Minerva McGonagall as one the closest things he had to a friend, outside of Albus. If he lived, if she lived, would he be able to make her understand some day?

“Minerva, I am married.” He would like to say.
Or perhaps, “Minerva, can you believe I have been married an entire year?”
He would even settle for, “Minnie, I would like to introduce you to my wife, Missus Danu Iris Snape.”

Severus slowly opens his door, his wife and Albus were still in the same spots he had left them in before escorting Draco back to the common room. His wife was lying curled into herself on the lounge, Albus sitting in his chair next to her, leaned forward slightly with his elbows resting on his knees. He had opened the door so gently that neither of them had noticed his presence. He pauses a moment, leaning against the doorway soaking the scene in.

Soon, there will be no more Albus Dumbledore.
His wife would soon despise him.

“I will be going away soon, and I must ask that you look after Severus for me.” Albus whispers.

“Are you going on a trip, sir?” His wife asks, her voice low and groggy due to the Calming Draught.

“Something like that.” Albus chuckles softly, his icy blue eyes gleaming in the candlelight. “Soon, Severus will need you, just as you need him. He suffers in silence, let yourself be his peace.”

Severus clears his throat before his wife has a chance to answer. Albus stands, smiles down at her, then pats her hand before making his way over to Severus.

“You can take it from here.” Albus winks to him before disappearing down the darkened corridor.

Severus lies in his warm, comfortable bed, the weight of his wife’s head on his chest anchoring him to the world. Her hair tickles his nose, he runs his finger through it to smooth it from his face, his fingers catching on small knots towards the ends. Gently, he removes them by spreading his fingers and tugging slightly. She sighs slightly, she loves it when he runs his fingers through her hair, and he did as well. The feel of the soft strands sliding between is fingers was relaxing, it calmed him after a stressful day.

“I’m sorry.” She whimpers against his chest.

“For what?” Severus breathes as he works out a rather large knot at the nape of her neck.

“Last night. I don’t know what came over me. I couldn’t control it.”

“I believe it was anxiety.” Severus admits. He had read up on her symptoms in a book he had found in some of his mother’s possessions buried deep in his trunk after she had fallen asleep. It was a self-help book of sorts, titled Overcoming Your Trauma. He had no idea his mother had actually acknowledged the things she had been through, much less taken steps to overcome them.

“That man, the one outside of the door. I knew him, I don’t know how, but I did. He frightened me so much I couldn’t breathe.”

Severus doesn’t respond, instead he smooths her hair back from her face and presses her head tighter against his chest. It is Sunday, they can do whatever they wished, and what he wished was to stay in bed with her on his chest for as long as possible.

“Bella…whatever, she said that she was my cousin.” She asks drowsily as she stretches slightly. Severus feels her toes curl against his calf.

“Yes. She is, so is Narcissa. Though, technically they would be your second cousin.” Severus admits as he rubs the sleep from his eyes and contemplates how he would manage to make both of their coffees from the bed without her spilling hers all over him and the bed.

“Why is she so cruel?” She asks as she rolls over to face him.

“Runs in the family.” Severus looks down his nose into her big blue eyes.

“I’m not cruel.”

“No, you are not cruel.” Severus smiles slightly as she lifts herself slightly to kiss his lips gently.

“What did she mean when she asked you if I knew what she did to Sirius?” She settles herself back down on his chest and looks up at him with such trust.

“Bellatrix killed Sirius.” Severus stares into her eyes and readies himself for any outburst she may have.

“Why would she do that? He was her cousin!” She exclaims, her brows scrunched in confusion.

“As we discussed, Bellatrix is overly cruel.” Severus sighs as she watches her lifts herself from his chest, leaving him feeling light and empty.

She stretches her arms high above her head and groans slightly, her nipples peeking out of the thin fabric of her nightgown. There is no chance of them staying in bed all day now, once she was up, she was up. Severus slings his legs out of bed with a groan as he joints crack in protest. They had been aching more lately, especially his knees and hands. He makes his way across the room, the stone floor cold beneath his bare feet. He listens to his wife brush her teeth as he prepared their morning coffee. How she could stand brushing before her coffee, he would never understand.

Chapter Text

Shortly after dark Severus walks slowly through the grounds, Albus by his side, the swish of their robes around their ankles the only sound to be heard. The night is bitterly cold for late February; the rain they had experienced earlier in the week had since turned to snow and froze the puddles of mud that littered the ground. A cold wind cuts through the valley, chilling them to the bone. Severus feels Albus shudder next to him as he pulls his robes tighter around his body.

“What are you doing with Potter, all these evenings you are closeted together?” Severus asks abruptly as they come to a stop before the Forbidden Forest.

“Why? You aren’t trying to give him more detentions, Severus? The boy will soon have spent more time in detention than out.” Albus sighs slightly as he looks up at Severus above his spectacles, his blue eyes tired and weary.

“He is his father over again—”

“In looks, perhaps, but his deepest nature is much more like his mother’s. I spend time with Harry because I have things to discuss with him, information I must give him before it is too late.” Albus looks out into the depths of the forest.

“Information.” Severus repeats, a pit deep in his stomach. “You trust him, you do not trust me.”

“It is not a question of trust. I have, as we both know, limited time. It is essential that I give the boy enough information for him to do what he needs to do.”

“And why may I not have the information?” Severus implores, suddenly anxious as to the fact that Albus simply did not trust him as he once had. He had told his wife that he trusted him more than any living person, yet, here he is telling Potter all of his dirty little secrets, and leaving him in the dark, once more.

“I prefer not to have all of my secrets in one basket, particularly not a basket that spends so much time dangling on the arm of Lord Voldemort.” Albus replies bitterly, cutting him like a knife.

“Which I do on your orders!” Severus sneers. “And what of my wife? Does that snide remark not also include her?”

“And you do it extremely well. Do not think that I do not understand the constant danger in which you both place yourselves, Severus. To give Voldemort what appears to be valuable information while withholding the essentials is a job I would entrust to nobody but you.” Albus sighs, his head leans back as specks of snow glisten in the starry sky.

“Yet you confide in a boy who is incapable of Occlumency, whose magic is mediocre, and who has a distinct connection in to The Dark Lord’s mind, instead of coming to my wife, whose mind is blocked to the three of us?”

“Voldemort fears that connection,” Albus sighs before looking back at Severus. “Not so long ago he had one small taste of what truly sharing Harry’s mind meant to him. It was a pain such as he never experienced. He will not try to possess Harry again, not in that way. I assure it.”

“I do not understand.” Severus raises a brow at Albus, his hands clasped behind his back.

“Lord Voldemort’s soul, as maimed as it is, cannot bear close contact with a soul like Harry’s, Like a tongue on frozen steel, like flesh in flame—”

“Souls? We are talking of minds!” Severus snaps, his patience growing thin. It is freezing, he is hungry, and his lips were pried from his wife’s with Albus’ knock on his bedroom door.

“In the case of Harry and Lord Voldemort’s souls, to speak of one is to speak of the other.” Albus explains as he glances around to ensure no one was near. “After you’ve killed me, Sev—”

“You refuse to tell me everything, yet you expect that small service of me!” Severus snarls, his nostrils flare, his lips pursed in rage. “You take a great deal for granted! Perhaps I’ve changed my mind!"

“You gave me your word, Severus. While we are talking about services, you owe me, I thought you agreed to keep a close eye on our young Slytherin friend?”

Severus fists shake behind his back in anger, he could feel his face reddening and the vein in his temple begin to throb. A large crunch nearby brings another presence to their attention; undoubtedly Hagrid returning from doing god only knew what out in the forest. With any luck, he hadn’t heard much. Hagrid could not keep a secret to save his life.

“Come to my office, tonight, Severus, at eleven, and you shall not complain that I have no confidence in you.”

Severus watches as Albus makes his way back to the castle, his stride slower and more careful than he had ever seen it. He would be gone soon, whether it be by Severus’ hand, Draco’s, or the curse. One way or another, he was destined to die before the end of term.

He had nearly two hours to kill before he would need to go to Albus’ office. If he went to his room, his wife would want to resume what she had attempted to start before Albus had knocked. Ordinarily, he would love the idea of touching her, being inside of her, but he simply was not up for it after the conversation he had just had with Albus. Instead, he finds himself sitting beneath the large tree near the lake. Hours were spent here in his youth, creating spells, correcting potions instructions in his copy of Advanced Potions, spending time with Lily, and being tormented by Potter. He wished to be younger, to do everything over again. If he had chosen the right path, would he still have met and married his wife? Or would he have found someone else? Perhaps he and Lily would still be friends, and she would still be alive. He didn’t even care if she were married to Potter in this scenario, as long as she were alive. Her smile, her laugh, the way she touched his hand when she was excited, he would give anything to feel it just once more. There was a brief time, when they were fifteen or sixteen, where Severus fancied her more than a friend, but it was short lived when he realized that if they were to ever date and then breakup for whatever reason, then he wouldn’t have her as a friend anymore.

Potter had his copy of Advanced Potions; he knew this without a doubt, it was the only explanation for his sudden knowledge of potions. This ate at Severus more than he was willing to admit, it wasn’t as if he could just question the boy about it. He had left that book in the class on purpose, ever since the very beginning of his teaching career. He had hoped that it would go to a student that needed it, one that truly deserved it. The well-off kids, like Potter and Malfoy would have the funds to purchase their own books, the students like him, they would need his. Those are the students that deserved it, the ones who only had their brains to get them somewhere in life. He had hoped one of the elder Weasley’s would find it; Bill, or Charlie, as much as he disliked Percy, he would have settled for him as well. It would have been a danger to the twins or Ron. Arthur and Molly, however much they struggled, always managed to provide the bare minimum for their offspring, which meant none of them ever needed an old ratty school copy. There were several students over the years who ventured into the closet to borrow a book, Severus would sit on the edge of his seat as they returned to their own, hopeful that this poor child would be worthy enough of his work, but none chose his book. Out of all of the books in that cupboard, why did Potter have to stick his privileged hand in there and choose his book? Fate was a cruel mistress.

—

Severus sits in Albus’ office, his brain too numb to piece together any coherent sentences without screaming. He is so fucking tired.

“Harry must not know,” Albus states as he paces around Severus. “Not until the last minute, not until it is necessary, otherwise how could he have the strength to do what must be done?”
“But what must be done?” Severus asks, his voice a husky whisper.

“That is between Harry and I. Now, listen closely, Severus. There will come a time, after my death,” Severus opens his mouth to interrupt, but Albus holds a hand up to stop him. “Do not argue, do not interrupt! There will come a time when Lord Voldemort will fear for the life of his snake.”

“For Nagini?” Severus asks, suddenly wondering what the damn snake had to do with these ramblings.

“Precisely. If there comes a time when Lord Voldemort stops sending that snake forth to do his bidding, but keeps it safe beside him under magical protection, then, I think, it will be safe to tell Harry. Until then, I advise that you discreetly collect some venom if you have not already done so.”

“Tell him what?”

“Tell him that on the night Lord Voldemort tried to kill him, when Lily cast her own life between them as a shield, the Killing Curse rebounded upon Lord Voldemort, and a fragment of Voldemort’s soul was blasted apart from the whole and latched itself on to the only living thing left in that collapsing building. Part of Lord Voldemort lives inside Harry, and it is that which gives him the power of speech with snakes, and a connection with Lord Voldemort’s mind that he has never understood. And while that fragment of soul, unmissed by Voldemort, remains attached to and protected by Harry, Lord Voldemort cannot die.”

Severus opens his mouth slightly, unable to speak, unable to breathe, unable to do anything but stare into Albus’ blue eyes. How could he do this to him? How could he do this to Lily?

“So, the boy…..the boy must die.” Severus finally breathes as his heart plummets to the pit of his stomach.

“And Voldemort must be the one who does it, Severus. That is essential.” Albus says sternly from behind him somewhere.

“I thought…” Severus begins, swallowing a lump in the back of his throat. “All these years…I thought we were protecting him for her. For Lily.”

Albus makes his way behind his desk and sits. He pops a sherbet lemon in his mouth and squeezes his eyes shut before speaking again.

“We have protected him because it has been essential to teach him, to raise him, to let him try his strength. Meanwhile, the connection between them grows even stronger, a parasitic growth. Sometimes I have thought he suspects it himself. If I know him, he will have arranged matters so that when he does set out to meet his death, it will truly mean the end of Voldemort.”

Severus can’t mask the horrified expression on his face, his heart was shattering within his own chest all over again. He could feel the long-mended pieces breaking off one by one. He could feel the ache bubble up from his core and chill his spine, he couldn’t catch his breath, he couldn’t stop the tears that prickled at the corner of his eyes. Albus opens his own and stares in to his, a calm expression on his face. He feels as though he may vomit.

“You have kept him alive so that he can die at the proper moment?”

“Don’t be shocked, Severus. How many men and women have you watched die?” Albus responds coldly, chilling him to his core. If the man hated him, he could at the very least do him the dignity of telling him to his face.

“Lately, only those whom I could not save.” Severus stands and looks down his nose at Albus. “You have used me.”

“Meaning?” Albus asks as he looks up at him over his spectacles.

“I have spied for you and lied for you, I have married for you, put myself and my wife in mortal danger for you. Everything was supposed to keep Lily Potter’s son safe. Now you tell me you have been raising him like a pig for slaughter—”

“But this is touching, Severus.” Albus interjects. “Have you grown to care for the boy after all?”

“For him?” Severus shouts as he pulls his wand from his sleeve. “Expecto Patronum!”

Albus watches as a silver doe bursts from the tip of his wand. She lands on the floor, struts around them, then dives from the window. Albus watches as Severus wipes a single tear from his cheek and attempts to compose himself.

“After all this time?” Albus whispers.

“Always.” Severus admits, choking on a sob.

“What of your wife, Severus? Do not tell me that you do not have love within you for her. I see it when you look at her, feel it radiate from your body when she is near.”

“You know nothing of my wife. She would be disgusted with you. She trusts you. She can never know; it would destroy her. She only trusts me because you do. If she loses her trust for you, she loses her trust for me.”
“There is one more thing I need to show you, Severus.” Albus mutters as Severus watches him pull a silver strand from his temple with his wand.

Albus walks to the pensive, the strand wrapping itself around the end of his wand for a moment before he drops it down in the wispy, cloud-like substance within. Severus steps towards the pensive as Albus steps away; he grips the cold edges and plunges his head within.

As the wisps of grey fog clears, Severus finds himself standing in the Potter’s sitting room. Lily paces the room wearing a maroon turtleneck and a pair of slacks, her red hair pulled into a low ponytail, she’s biting the skin around her thumb nail as she paces. He wants to reach out and pull her in to his arms, feel her heartbeat against his chest as he squeezes her tightly in his arms, not caring that Potter sits mere feet away.

Suddenly, Sirius and Lupin burst through the door, they stomp snow from their boots as they make their way into the room. Sirius seems concerned, his hands shake slightly as he puts them in the pocket of his coat. Lupin looks anxious, he runs his hand through his hair before he makes his way to Potter to clasp him on the shoulder before collapsing down on the sofa next to him.

“Is she here?” Sirius asks as he steps into the room, his eyes darting around before he angles himself slightly to peak into the doorway at the far end of the room.

“No. Not yet.” Lily breathes. Potter grabs her wrist and pulls her down on the sofa between him and Lupin, she buries her head in her hands and begins to breathe heavily as Potter rubs her back. Sirius takes up her pacing.

Moments pass in silence before a knock sounds at the door. Everyone in the room freezes a moment, then all stand in unison, staring at the door, no one daring to go forward to open it. Severus watches the knob turn, then the door slowly creaks open before Albus steps in. He smiles warmly at them all, causing everyone to let out a breath that he realized he too was holding.

“She is coming. I saw her turn the corner as I was opening the door.” Albus says, a small tinge of sadness in his eye before turning to Sirius. “Are you certain you want to go through with this, Sirius?”

“Yes. I am certain.” Sirius responds as he stands a bit straighter.

A knock causes them all to freeze once more. This time, Albus is the one to step forward to open the door.

“Ah, my dear. Come in, come in. Sirius is just in the next room, as is Lily.” Albus responds cheerfully as he steps out of the way to allow whoever had knocked to pass through.

Rose. She is the spitting image of his wife, and only a few years older than she currently is. As she steps in the room, a small red head peaks out from behind her legs, Severus watches the small child’s blue eyes widen before they disappear back behind Rose’s legs. Small chubby hands wrap around her leg, Rose giggles slightly before bending down on one knee as she pries the small arms from around her leg. She cups the child’s face gently, brushing strands of red from her face in the process.

“Danu,” She coos. “This is Sirius. Your dad.”

“It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Danu.” Sirius chokes as he bends his knee to be level with the girl.

The girl, however, is having none of it. She lunges into her mother’s arms and buries her face in her chest. Rose hugs her lovingly, as she smiles brightly at Sirius.

“She’s a bit shy.” Rose apologizes as she rubs her daughters back.

“Danu,” Lily objects. Severus was so engrossed with the scene before him that he had forgotten anyone else was in the room. “Why don’t you come to the kitchen with me. I think I’ve got some biscuits and hot cocoa; would you like some?”

This got the girls attention; she allows Lily to take her hand and lead her from the room. Severus is torn between which room he needed to be in, when suddenly the scene changes. Sirius, Lupin, James, and Albus were gone. Lily and Danu were the only ones remaining in the sitting room. A roaring fire lights the room as Lily paces once more. Danu is sound asleep on the sofa, the tip of her thumb dangling from her mouth as a puddle of saliva darkens the pillow beneath her. He studies Lily’s face as she paces the room, desperately trying to remember every single detail, the exact shade of green of her eyes. It had been so long since he had seen her. His heart aches and his eyes well with tears as the scene begins to fade once more.

Severus is standing on the street in total darkness as snow falls around him; Albus is to his left, Lupin to his right. The three of them watch as Sirius carries a small tightly wrapped bundle down the steps and stops before them. The four men look down into the small sleeping face of Danu Black. Sirius shakes violently as a sob wracks his body, a tear drips from the tip of his nose on to his daughters forehead.

The scene changes once more. Whatever Albus was trying to tell him, he wished he would just get to the point already. It is still dark, but the location was different. They no longer stood before the Potter home, instead, they were near the river in Cokeworth. He could only tell based on the stench and roar of the water near them. Sirius openly sobs, he can hear him gasp for breath as he tries desperately to compose himself.

“I can’t!” Sirius sobs. “I can’t do this. I have to go back for her, I can’t leave her there. Please, Dumbledore. Please, let me get my girl!” Severus suddenly realizes that Lupin and Albus were holding him upright, he no longer held his daughter in his arms.

“This was your idea, Sirius. It is done. We cannot take it back; it is too dangerous. You know that.” Albus reminds him sternly.

“I can’t. I can’t. I can’t.” Sirius repeats over again as he sobs.

“Sirius.” Lupin pleads. “He’s right. Let’s get back. It is not forever, only until it’s safe. You’ll see her again. We’ll have her back.”

The memory fades for the final time, Severus is left in darkness as he tries to make sense of everything he had just witnessed. He pulls himself from the pensive, the room suddenly too bright. Albus stands behind his desk, looking out of the window into the darkness.

“What was the meaning of this?” Severus asks coldly, gesturing towards the pensive with shaking hand.

“What you have just witnessed, Severus, is the night we obliterated Rose Evans and left her daughter at an orphanage.”

“How—What? Why? You knew, the entire time, you knew. Lupin knew, Sirius knew, and they lied to her face!”

“Yes.” Albus sighs as he turns to face him. “Sirius asked me, us, to assist him. It was all his idea. No one forced him.”

“Why?” Severus demands, his hands shaking at his sides.

“You know why, Severus. You know better than anyone what it was like back then. He wanted to protect his child.”

“Where is she? Where is Rose?”

“Surrey, for a while. Kent now, I believe.” Albus replies, his voice smaller than he probably intended it to be. “I kept tabs on her for a while but have not checked in a few years. Not since Voldemort returned.”

—

Severus sits on the corner of his desk, staring at the floor. He had sent his wife to Spinner’s End earlier that day, he didn’t want her anywhere near the castle this night. His arm begins to burn, just as he knew it would. With shaking knees and a lump in his throat, he pulls himself to his feet and pushes forward. Outside of his door stands Granger and Lovegood, no doubt something Potter had set them up to do. He makes up an excuse to get them away, he tells them to go alert any Order member they come across that something is wrong, they needed to get to the seventh floor. They believe him and do as they are told. He can’t be sure what all takes place between his office and the Astronomy Tower, it is all a blur.

It is happening.
There is no way out.

His feet drag up the steps with each beat of his heart. Hs hands and knees tremble, his throat constricts. He can hear voices at the top of the tower, can hear Amycus’ nasally voice. He clears his mind, closes his eyes, and blindly fumbles his way up the remainder of the stairs.

“Severus. Please.” Albus pleads, shattering his heart and breaking his soul.

This will be the final time he hears his voice.
The final time he looks into his eyes.

“Avada Kedavra.” A jet of bright green shoots from his wand as his voice cracks, but only slightly. Not enough for anyone but Draco to notice. He grabs him by the collar and drags him from the tower.

Draco’s soul was still intact. He could feel the Vow he had made with Narcissa lift from his conscious., and wonders briefly is she had felt it, too. Severus drags Draco through the castle, only releasing hold on his collar once they reach the grounds, where the boy abruptly doubles over and heaves on to the lawn. Severus quickens his stride, desperate to catch up to the others, should they do something far more reckless than what he himself had just done. By the time he makes down the lawn near Hagrid’s small hut, Potter was hot on his heels throwing spells at him. Severus blocks each one before they can come to fruition; the boy simply is not talented enough for a proper duel.

“FIGHT BACK!” Potter shouts above the commotion. “FIGHT BACK YOU COWARDLY—”

“Coward did you call me, Potter?” Severus shouts through grit teeth. “Your father would never attack me unless it was four on one, what would you call him, I wonder?”

Potter attempts his signature spell; Severus blocks it without a word.

“Blocked again and again and again until you learn to keep your mouth shut and your mind closed!” He hadn’t actually accessed his mind, it was much too dark, and he was too far away, he simply knew what he was going to use, because it was all he ever used. Predictable. Someone hits Potter with a Cruciatus Curse from behind, Severus almost loses his composure, almost lunges forward to protect the boy.

“NO!” He shouts, surprising even himself. “Have you forgotten your orders? Potter belongs to The Dark Lord!”

More Death Eaters file out of the castle and run down the hill towards them, he tries desperately to wrangle them all, to get them all to just fucking listen and leave already. It is like herding cats.

“Sectum—” Potter begins, Severus blocks it once more as he paces towards the boy. They were mere feet from one another. He could feel the anger and pain radiating from his young body.

“No, Potter!” Severus shouts as he blasts him back down on his ass with the flick of his wrist. Rage bubbles from within him, desperate to find a way out. “You dare use my own spells against me, Potter? It was I who invented them—I, the Half-Blood Prince! And you’d turn my invention on me, like your filthy father, would you! I don’t think so—NO!” Severus shouts as Potter dives for his wand, Severus blasts his wand several feet away into the darkness.

“Kill me then!” Potter begs. “Kill me like you killed him, you coward!”

“DON’T CALL ME A COWARD!” Severus bellows, his face contorted in rage and pain. Behind him, a dog barks and whines. His figure is illuminated on the hill by the burning building behind him; he couldn’t be certain how, or by whom, the building had been set ablaze.

—

Severus finds himself sitting in Sirius Black’s room at Grimmauld Place. He didn’t know where else to go. He could not face his wife, could not stomach being anywhere near any of The Dark Lord’s men, and could not stay at Hogwarts. Deep inside of himself, he had hoped another Order member would be there, someone he could try to explain things to. He wanted, no, needed to let it out.

Sobs wrack his body as he trembles on the cold wooden floor with his knees clasped to his chest. He wanted someone, anyone, to tell him that it would be all right. With his face on the wooden boards, he opens his eyes slightly. Something beneath the chest of drawers catches his eye, he reaches out and slides it across the floor with his index finger and wipes the dust on his robes. As he unfolds the piece of paper he had drug across the floor, a photograph falls out. He pulls himself in to a sitting position and tuns the photo over.

Lily.

There she was, smiling. He needed her so badly. “It’ll be okay, Sev.” He imagined her whispering to him as she wrapped her arms around his neck and held him tightly. He closes his eyes and tries desperately to remember her scent, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t remember what she smelled like. Another sob shakes through his body as the realization that he will never get the opportunity to remember that mundane detail about her dawns on him.

After Albus had showed him the final memory in the pensive so many months ago now, he returned to Spinner’s End and ripped every photo of he and Lily from the walls of his bedroom. All of the handwritten letters, the little drawings she had given him, her essay on mandrakes that she had left in his herbology book, and a small stuffed bear she had given him for Valentine’s Day when they were twelve, all gone. He burned every last detail of her from his life. He was so angry with her. She knew what Sirius had done to Rose; she was complacent! She took her daughter in to the kitchen and kept her quiet with biscuits and hot cocoa while Sirius wiped her only child from her mind! He hated her in that moment, he wanted to wipe every inch of her from his mind!

Right now, though, looking down into her smiling face, his heart ached at what he had done. He had nothing of her, nothing but her cousin. The mementos of their friendship, the small things she had left behind that anyone else would overlook, had had kept them safe, kept those parts of her alive, but in a fit of rage, he destroyed it all. Yet, here in his hands, was a long forgotten letter and photograph from her. Severus reads it over and over again as tears prickle his eyes. He runs his thumb over the warn paper where she had pressed a bit too hard as she wrote, leaving a small indention. He lifts himself from the floor, dusts himself off, and does what he must do. He rips the photograph in half, taking only her smiling face. He rips the bottom portion of the letter off and shoves them both into his pocket. As he makes his way out of the room, another letter on the foot of the bed catches his eye. The paper worn and discolored.

My darling Rose,

I cannot put into words how much I have missed you. I have never forgotten the summer we spent together, as I am sure you have not either. I am sorry I did not write sooner. I apologize for any pain this may have caused you.

Lily tells me that we have a daughter, and you have named her Danu. The name we discussed on the rooftop late one night when you asked me what I would name my children if I ever had any. You would not believe the smile I had when Lily told me her name. Don’t think I have forgotten that conversation, or any conversation we had, for that matter. I remember everything. The time spent with you was the happiest of my life.

Danu Iris Black.
That name is a masterpiece. The perfect name for a perfect girl.

I wish I had been there for you; I wish that I could hold our daughter. James gave me the photo of you and her together, I carry it with me everywhere. Do not laugh, but I kiss it goodnight every night. I pretend that I am kissing you both goodnight. I am sure she is as beautiful in person as you are. Remus and James told me that they held her, and for that, I am jealous.

I have a small apartment, it is not much, but I dream of a day when you and her are here with me. It is currently the only thing holding me together at the moment.

I hope that you can forgive me for my foolishness and allow me to be a father to our girl. I cannot promise that I will be a good father, but I will try my best.

All of my love to you and our girl,
-Sirius Black

Severus slips the letter from Sirius into his pocket with the ripped photo and love from Lily. The photo of his wife and her mother Sirius had mentioned in the letter to Rose, Albus had been the one to find and pass on to Severus to give to her. Severus makes his way down the stairs, dries his eyes with his sleeve, and walks out of the front door for the final time. He will never step foot in Number 12 Grimmauld Place again.

—

Severus watches himself as a child dig in the wet sand on a beach somewhere. His feet are bare and grimy, his clothes are clean and well fitting. The scene is odd. He couldn’t remember ever going to the beach as a child. Nor could he remember having clothing that fit well. His back was to himself, his black hair long and tangled. Of course, he couldn’t be certain that this child was him, it felt like him though, looked like him from behind.

His smaller self plops down on their knees into the wet sand to continue digging. He tried to shout at himself, tell himself to get up quickly before he ruined those good clothes and made Tobias angry! It was too late, though. He could see the water soaking the knees of the jeans before the child stood abruptly, smeared their wet, grimy hands down the front, and shoved sea snails into the pockets. The child abruptly sprints up the beach, their long black hair dancing in the wind. Severus jogs to keep up.

“Mum!” The child shouts. The voice was not his. “Mum! Look what I found for daddy!”

Severus watches as the child rounds the corner of a small shack and sticks their grubby hand through a window as they balance themselves on a crate on the ground.

“Oh! Daddy will love it, darling!” The mum replies enthusiastically.

“Can daddy use it for potions?” The child asks as the pop something into their mouth that was passed to them through the window.

“You’ll just have to wait until he gets home and ask him yourself.”

Not him, definitely not his mother, certainly not Tobias. Just then, the child turns towards him. It certainly looks like him, too much like him. His features on this child’s face was not ugly. The worst pieces of his were reflected on to their face, but it fit. His large nose, his high cheek bones, his thin frame, and his sleek black hair. The child barrels towards him, arms spread in a hug, a grin plastered on to their face.

“Daddy! Look what I found for you!” The child shouts as they thrust the sea snails into his waiting hand.

Severus wakes with a jerk, his heart pounding. His wife plastered to his body with sweat. Just a nightmare. A sick fucking nightmare. He wraps his arms around her and kisses the top of her head. It has been three weeks since the death of Albus Dumbledore. The pain has not gotten any easier to live with. The look of despair on his wife’s face when he told her will forever be etched into his mind. He thought for sure she would see through him, would know that he had been the one to kill the old man, but she had yet to discover that detail. He will need to wake in a few short hours to take his photograph for The Daily Prophet announcing himself as the new headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Chapter Text

“Is it true,” Danu whispers against Severus’ chest as she watches tiny goosebumps raise where her breath had hit his skin. “That You-Know-Who—”

“The Dark Lord.” Severus corrects her with a raised brow.

“Is it true that Dumbledore was the only person he was afraid of?”

“Yes. That is true.” Severus mutters against her hair.

He had not been himself since the death of Dumbledore, neither of them had. Severus spent the last two weeks in a stupor, barely speaking, not eating unless she forced him to. She would wake in the middle of the night, his side of the bed cold, only to find the small house empty except for her. The immense guilt she herself had felt over his loss was unlike anything she had ever felt before. What if the words she had carried to You-Know-Who were the reason he was now gone? What if the fake artifacts her and Severus brought to Him only days before Dumbledore’s death was the literal nail in his coffin? If there was a funeral, she did not know, and Severus did not say. She would have liked to pay her respects to the man who she had grown to regard as a friend.

“What now?” Danu whispers, her voice catching slightly in the back of her throat.

“I have been elected headmaster.” Severus answers with a sigh as he leans over her to grab the ashtray off of the bedside table.

They had, for whatever reason, moved into the bedroom across the hall from their usual one. The room had always been locked, and she had not felt it her place to ask what was inside. Unless he had done some major cleaning before bringing her back, there was nothing odd or secretive about the room. It was an ordinary bedroom with a large walnut sleigh bed, two matching tables on either side, and a large chest of drawers next to the door. At the foot of the bed was a simple footlocker, which she had not looked inside, and a stand-up mirror stands proudly in the corner, the edges chipped and desilvering. The room is slightly larger than their usual one, and much cleaner in regard to yellowing wallpaper and dingy curtains. There is no window in this room, but Severus had made up for that by supplying several candles on every surface.

“How do you feel about that?” Danu asks as she props herself up on her elbows to look into his eyes. She takes the lit cigarette from his fingers and takes a small puff before passing it back to him. Since the news, she had begun taking small hits off of his cigarettes occasionally to stave the nausea that came with the pit of anxiety deep in her stomach.

“I have no feelings either way.” Severus sighs as he releases the smoke in his lungs and offers her another hit of the cigarette. She shakes her head, allowing him to finish it off.

“I thought it would be McGonagall.” Danu admits as she watches him bring the cigarette to his lips once more. His hands are large with deep blue protruding veins, rough callouses, and thin silvery scars. Stereotypical man hands that felt like electricity on her skin when he caressed her; safety and home when he held her tightly.

“It should have been.” Severus admits as he stubs the cigarette out in the ashtray balancing on his chest and leans slightly, taking her with him, to place it back on the bedside table.

“I hope it isn’t too hard for you.” Danu says as she relaxes back down on his chest, his heart thumps lazily against her ear as he traces her spine with his middle finger.

“Hmm.” Severus grunts, tickling her back with her own hair as he moves his finger up and down her spine.

“I know that you don’t want people knowing about us, bu—”

“It is not that.” Severus interjects before she can finish her sentence. “If any of the students, and professors for that matter, found out about our marriage, it will be all over the papers. When Albus was alive, he could have smoothed things over, but now…Now it will make headlines.”

“Why didn’t you let him break the news to people, then? You always take your ring off before class. I thought you were just embarrassed to have anyone find out about me.” Danu admits, her eyes growing heavy from him rubbing her back. She swore he did it on purpose to get her to stop talking.

“I simply prefer my private life to be just that.” Severus scoffs, his breath blowing her hair across her neck. “Albus and I discussed it at length. We decided it would be best not to have your name in the papers. Potter does not know that the two of you are related, neither does The Dark Lord, that we know of. We need to keep it that way. As far as The Dark Lord is concerned, your mother is just another nameless Muggle, no one of importance. Potter is sentimental and family oriented, he may use you to get to him. Furthermore, Potter is unaware that Sirius had any children. I must ask that you stay in the Headmaster’s Tower this year, unless I am with you.”

“Why would he care if Sirius had kids?”

“Because, as I told you last summer; though, you may have been too clouded with anger to recall, Sirius Black was Potter’s godfather.” Severus admits before turning once more to retrieve something from the bedside table as he cupped her head to his chest. “Speaking of, Albus found this. I forgot to give it to you.”

Severus passes her a folded piece of yellowing parchment and watches intently, one brow raised, as she sits up on her knees and unfolds the parchment.

Danu reads the letter as tears sting her eyes. At one point, Sirius had wanted her, had even loved her. What changed? What made him not write to her, not take her in his arms the one and only time they had met? Had Azkaban truly stolen every ounce of love and compassion within him, or was she simply not what he had expected her to be? Would he have been a good father, as he was fearful of not being in the letter? Would he have held her when she had a nightmare, told her bedtime stories? Would he have been there on the platform her first day of Hogwarts, and cheered when he received news of the house that she had been placed in? She would never know, because all of it was stolen from the both of them. Severus pulls her in to his chest and holds her as she sobs over what will never be.

Late one night in July, Severus left while she slept and stayed gone for three days. On the morning of the fourth day, he burst through the front door, filthy, panting, and his clothes ripped. He had been flying, that much was obvious from his windblown and dead moth filled hair. Wherever he had been, whatever he had been doing, she was unsure she wanted to know. He was traumatized, borderline catatonic as she led him to the kitchen for coffee. His hands shook as he chain-smoked and had her continuously reheat the coffee he hadn’t even touched.

Things were changing, their world becoming darker than she could have ever predicted. If this was a taste of what the first war had been like, she understood why Sirius hadn’t wanted her around.

Severus no longer took her with him when he met with You-know-Who, for that, she was thankful. She could tell when he called, which was often. Severus would grip his left forearm tightly, a pained expression on his face, and flee the room as if he had just witnessed something vile.

His demeanor was not the only to have changed. While he had once kept his face clean shaven and his hair neatly trimmed, he now allowed days, even weeks to pass without shaving, which left him with salt and pepper stubble on his face, and his hair now hung well below his collar bones. Unless he was called upon, he did not allow her out of his sight, to the point where he even showered with her, and sometimes stood outside of the restroom when she would excuse herself. Severus had been thin but had lost such a substantial amount of weight in just a few short weeks that the clothes he had purchased only months prior now hung loosely on his body. His black eyes were bloodshot with deep blue bags beneath them due to never sleeping more than an hour or two at a time before jerking awake.

“I can no longer protect you out there!” Severus snapped late one night, slamming his clenched fists upon the dining table causing her to jump and drop the teacup she had been clutching. She had only asked if he wanted to talk about what had been bothering him. She didn’t ask any follow up questions, not that she had even had the opportunity to before he was called upon once more.

Despite being together nearly every moment of their lives, Severus was not truly present, and as time passed, he became further drawn into himself. He would sit in the sitting room, a book opened in his hand, but his eyes staring off into the distance. Hours would pass without him turning the page before he would finally allow her to take the book from his hands and massage the flesh between his thumb and forefinger in order for him to even relax his hands.

“Severus.” Danu whispers as he stands at the kitchen sink staring out of the window, he had been holding his hands under the scalding hot tap for nearly five minutes. His hands were red and steaming, yet he did not move.

“Severus!” She shouts a bit louder as she pulls his hands from under the tap. He moves his head down to meet hers slowly, his mouth open slightly, his eyes unfocused. For a moment, he looked as though he hadn’t recognized her.

“I’m worried about you.” Danu whispers as she cradles his scalded hands in hers and gently pats them dry with the tea towel from the ovens door handle.

“Don’t.” Severus murmurs as he looks away sheepishly. He doesn’t take his hands from hers and allows her to bring them to her lips and kiss them gently before sitting him down at the dining table.

“I love you; I care about you. I promised Dumbledore I would look after you. You took care of me, please, Severus, let me take care of you. You aren’t alone. I’m here, I’m not going anywhere.”

Severus bends forward to rest his head between her breasts and wrap his arms around her waist as a child would with their mother. He trembles slightly, his breathing heavy as if he were trying not to cry. Danu cups the back of his neck with one hand, the other smoothed the hair from his face before running her thumb over his temple.

“I’m here, Darling. I’ll always be here for you.” Danu whispers against the top of his head, each of them unraveling yet trying desperately to be strong for the other.

Severus let her keep the copy of The Daily Prophet with his somber face on the front page instead of tossing it in the fire as he had threatened when the owl delivered it that morning. Danu thought he looked handsome; shocking, but handsome. He merely scoffed when she told him so, but she couldn’t help but notice how his cheeks turned a slight shade of pink as the words left her mouth. She folded the paper and placed it carefully in the bottom of a small wooden box he had given her, the photo of her and her mother, and the letter Sirius had written to them placed securely on top.

Life above ground, in the headmaster’s tower, was wildly different than below ground in the dungeons. For starters, she could actually breathe in fresh air as soon as she woke. It wasn’t constantly cold and damp, and she could throw the curtains open and see the sky instead of a murky pond. Severus hates the light shining in through the window in the mornings, and usually throws a pillow over his eyes as she throws the curtains open. Danu takes her coffee at a small iron table on a balcony overlooking the grounds each morning, the late summer sky on her face for the first time in what felt like years. Directly next to the small patio table is a steep, winding staircase leading down to the balcony attached to the headmaster’s office. Danu doesn’t go down there often. When she does sneak in, Severus is having intense conversations with the portraits of past headmaster’s. He seldom leaves the office unless completely necessary. If he had even given a welcome speech when the students arrived, she did not know about it.

The Headmaster’s Office looked just as it did when Dumbledore was headmaster, except for his portrait that now hung in the center of the room. The double staircase on either side of the claw footed, headmasters' desk, which she had never been up before, was actually a large library with over-sized chairs, lounges, several tables, a large granite fireplace, and a brewing station on the far back wall. Severus explained that Dumbledore had used the space for staff meetings, and a place for the prefects and heads of houses to meet. He had it changed in the weeks leading up to their arrival to better suit their style and needs.

The headmaster's quarters themselves are immaculate. A round bed with a tufted headboard and curved bench seat at the foot sits in the center of the room. A gorgeous cream-colored duvet with the Hogwarts crest embroidered in golden thread makes the bed, pillows of every shape and size are piled so high she didn’t think it possible for either of them to fit in the bed, much less both of them. Across from the bed is a white marble fireplace with carvings of each house's emblem along the mantle. Two gargoyles, identical to the ones lining the tower entrance sit proudly on either side of the hearth. In front of the fireplace is a large fainting couch, the fabric embroidered with hundreds of Hogwarts emblems in gold and burgundy thread. A polar bear skin run beneath its feet, it’s mouth and eyes wide open and staring at the entrance to the room. A floor to ceiling tapestry of each house's emblem line each wall, wrought iron candelabras taller than she is stand in front of each tapestry. Up a steep staircase hidden behind the Ravenclaw tapestry is a small kitchenette equipped with a gas stove, a small icebox, and a small round dining table.

Behind the Slytherin tapestry is the entrance to their own bathroom; however, bathhouse would be a more fitting word. The entirety of the back wall was fitted with at least a dozen shower heads in varying heights and positions. The bathtub, which was constantly filled, looked more like a swimming pool, with marble mermaids perched around the exterior, their hands outstretched to hold soaps and washrags. Marble fish spit soaps, shampoos, conditioners, oils, lotions, and fragrance out of their mouths when you turned a knob on their backs. She could never remember what was inside of which fish, and relied heavily on Severus to fill his hand with whatever she needed before plastering it into her own waiting hand. Danu loves watching him wade nude through the pool, the muscles in his back pulling as he reaches his arms over the edge to reach soaps and towels.

Danu makes her way down the staircase overlooking the headmaster’s office after retrieving a book to bring back up to the balcony to read while Severus was busy with paperwork of some sort. Halfway out of the room, a familiar voice stops her.

“My dear,” Dumbledore begins, addressing her directly for the first time in nearly two weeks. “Have you met Phineas?”

Dumbledore leans forward in the chair he was sitting in and gestures to his left, to a portrait of a noble looking man with narrow blue eyes, black hair, a pointed beard, and thin eyebrows wearing elegant green and silver robes. Something about him looked familiar to her, but she couldn’t quite place it.

“No, I have not.” Danu answers, gripping a copy of Lady Chatterley’s Lover tight to her chest. Turning her head slightly, she catches sight of Severus looking up from his papers, one eyebrow raised in question.

“Phineas,” Dumbledore begins as Phineas makes his way closer to the frame. “Meet your great-great-….perhaps one more, great-granddaughter. Missus Danu Snape.”

Phineas eyes her up and down, a puzzled look on his face as Severus stands suddenly and makes his way over to where she stood, he places one hand on her shoulder and grips it firmly as Phineas opens then closes his mouth twice before scrunching his brow and bringing his fist to his chin.

“Pure blood?” Phineas asks, his narrow eyes glued to hers as if he was willing her to change up her bloodline.

“Half-blood.” Severus announces proudly before she can speak. “Problem, Phineas?” He raises one brow at Phineas, daring him to say a word against her.

“Worthless. Pathetic. That so called great-great-grandson of mine couldn’t do one simple thing correctly.” Phineas mutters to himself as he rolls his eyes. “At least tell me you were a Slytherin!”

“Ravenclaw.” Danu announces just as proudly as Severus had moments before, pushing out her chest and straightening her back in defiance.

“Could be worse. Impeccable taste, I’ll give you that, even if he is a half-blood, he’s got Slytherin in him.” Phineas replies, gesturing towards Severus with his chin. “Perhaps your children will take after Snape and I and continue on with the family legacy that your disobedient father so proudly disregarded.”

Severus had taken to training her harder than he had the previous year, often becoming irritable if she is unable to cast the spells quickly enough for his liking. She had been able to produce most of them during her time as a student, in a controlled environment with a training dummy, but it was far different with Severus as her teacher, yelling at her to do it faster, do it better, do it stronger. She had mastered Arresto Momentum, Alarte Ascendare, Depulso, Descendo, Flipendo Maxima, Fumos, and Immobulus enough for his liking, but still could not get Finite or Stupefy out as fast, or as strong as he would like. When they weren’t dueling, they were brewing. Box upon box of various healing potions lined the back wall of their library and had begun to spill over into the office itself. He was preparing for something.

“There is one more.” Severus begins as he lifts the training dummy with his wand. “Only use this when it is absolutely necessary.”

Danu watches as Severus makes his way to her side, his wand gripped tightly in his hand, his jaw clenched.

“Sectumsempra.” Danu watches as Severus creates a zig-zagging pattern with his wand, slashes in the training dummies fabric appear in the same pattern Severus had drawn with his wand as it topples to the ground.

“What was that?” Danu breathes, her eyes wide with a mixture of shock and horror. If the spell could do that to a dummy, what would it do to a human? What would be considered necessary enough to use that?

“A spell of my own invention.” Severus admits, eying her intently with scrunched brow.

“You invented that?” Danu asks, stunned that Severus could ever be responsible of such destruction, intrigued by the fact that he had invented it himself. She knew, of course, that all spells had been invented by someone, she simply had not met anyone who had invented their own, that she knew of.

“That is what I just said.” Severus replies as he turns to lift the dummy from the ground once more.

“How?”

“Intent.” Severus remarks dryly before gesturing for her to lift her wand. “Your turn.”

“Sectumsempra.” Danu mutters, feeling slightly guilty of the damage she was to inflict upon a lifeless dummy. She moves her wand hand in a large Z motion, and watches as the dummies head pops off and falls to the floor with a loud thump.

“Co—could that happen to a person?” Danu asks as she turns her attention to Severus, her mouth hangs slightly open as she realizes that he would be expecting her to use this spell on another living person.

“Decapitation?” Severus asks as he lifts the dummies head from the ground and places it on the nearest table before turning back to her. “No. Though, it would be deadly if you sliced their throats, their head would presumably remain attached. As I said, use it only when absolutely necessary.”

“What would be considered absolutely necessary?” Danu asks as she watches Severus pace to the window and stare out, his hands clasped behind his back.

“Life or death.” Severus sighs, his voice barely a whisper.

Danu wakes with a jolt as a crash of thunder shakes her to her core. She reaches out blindly, Severus’ side of the bed ice cold. A gust of wind rips through the room as she looks towards the balcony doors, she notices Severus standing there, wind whipping his robes around his body, his hands clasped behind his back.

“Severus?” Danu whispers, a puff of white coming from her nose and mouth as she wraps the blanket around her body, the late October air chilling her to the bone.

Severus doesn’t reply, nor does he move a muscle as she makes her way to him. She reaches out and touches his hand gently, he opens one and takes her fingers in his, his hands cold as ice. He sighs slightly as she rests her head on his back and does her best to wrap them both in blanket wrapped around her body.

“Come to bed, Severus. It’s late, you’re freezing.” Danu begs, her voice vibrating against his spine.

“There is a fire.” Severus murmurs as the thunder booms. A flash of lightening illuminates them in the darkness as the rain finally breaks, deafening them both as she attempts to pull him back away from the open doorway.

“The fire is out, Severus. Please, come to bed.”

Severus pries his hand from hers, and without even turning, flicks his wrist above his shoulder. The fire springs to life, engulfing the half-burnt wood within before settling down slightly. Danu grips his hand and tries to pull him from the doorway once more as the howling wind changes directions to spray them both with ice cold rain from the opened doors. Severus doesn’t budge.

“There is one thing I would like for you to do for me.” Severus’ deep voice booms above the crash of thunder.

“Anything, Severus. I would do anything for you.” Danu pleads as she tugs on his hand once more.

“When I am gone, take the Black name as your own.”

“What are you talking about? Please, come to bed Severus. You’re shivering.”

“It has always been my intention,” Severus begins, ignoring her completely. “To have the name end with me. I would appreciate it if you would change your name back to your own in the event of my death. Let the Snape name die with me.”

“I would hope that you aren’t expecting to die any time soon.” Danu says, her stomach lodged in her throat at the mere thought of him being gone.

“Humor me.” Severus sneers as he turns towards her, his eyes dark and emotionless, the crease in his forehead smoothed. Dark circles beneath his eyes indicating that he had not slept at all that night, despite lying down with her hours earlier.

“If- and I hope it doesn’t happen any time soon, that were to happen, I will do that for you.” Danu says forcefully, desperate to get him away from the door and out of his now soaked clothing.

Severus allows her to pull him away and shut the doors behind him. He stands timidly in the center of the room, water puddling at his feet. His hair is slicked back with rain and dripping on to his shoulders as she runs to the bathroom to fetch a towel.

Danu dries him and changes his soaked clothing as he stands before her motionless. Afterwards, he allows her to sit him before the fire as she brings him a cup of his favorite tea, orange and cinnamon spice with a teaspoon of honey. Severus sits on the fainting couch before the fire, his long arms resting on his knees as he leans forwards slightly, the mug of tea cupped tightly in his hands. He watches the steam roll from the mouth of the cup as she combs his tangled hair.

“Severus.” Danu begins as she kisses the top of his head. “Let me help you.”

“You can’t.” Severus spits between clenched teeth.

“You don’t know that unless you let me.” Danu makes her away around the couch to sit on her knees on the floor before him. She takes the still full mug from his hands and grips his now warmed hands firmly in her own.

“I am fine.” Severus protests as he attempts to rip his hands from her own, she holds tighter, not allowing him to get away.

“You are not fine.” She whispers as she looks into his coal black eyes. “I love you, Severus Snape. Let me help you.”

Severus has his chest pressed tightly to her back, his teeth scraping against her neck as his hand cups her breast.

Danu moans and arches her bottom against his growing erection. He hadn’t touched her, hadn’t been inside of her in so long. She hadn’t tried to make love to him, not in the state that he had been in for so many months, she let him come to her as he was known to do on occasion. He had been gone all day, called upon by You-Know-Who. Whatever he had done while there left him ravenous. He burst through the door as she lay on her side reading in bed, the late autumn storm that had rolled through sending rain pattering against the glass door. Severus didn’t wait for her to greet him before he slid in bed behind her and snaked his ice-cold hands up the silk nightgown she was wearing, before he ripped it from her and tossed the book she had propped up on his pillow onto the floor with it. She could feel him undoing his own robes and shimmying them off of his body without having to remove his mouth from her body.

“Roll over.” Severus growls into her ear as he grips her shoulder firmly to turn her on to her back.

She looks up into his black eyes as they soften slightly at the sight of her beneath him. He kisses her hard on the mouth, their teeth scraping together slightly on impact. Severus reaches between their body and thrusts a single finger inside of her, her back arches at the sudden invasion as he begins to wiggle it inside of her. He bites her bottom lip as she pants and squirms beneath him, desperate for more. Just as a storm begins to brew within her to match the raging storm outside, he removes his finger from her and stares down at her.

Danu props herself up on her elbows and stares at him, mouth open in confusion. He had worked her up, got her good and bothered, then stopped without a single word or explanation. Severus smirks down at her, an expression on his face she had never seen before.

“Tell me that you want this.” He demands.

“What?” He had never acted this way before; never had he been demanding while they lie together.

“You heard me.” Severus says as the firelight dances in his dark eyes.

“I want this.” Danu whispers as she leans forward and takes his bottom lip between her own. “I need you.”

Severus presses her back against the mattress and lines himself up against her, the warmth and hardness of him making her squirm against him to hurry him along.

“Why?” Severus asks as he stares down at her menacingly.

“Because…because I love the way you feel inside of me.” Danu answers breathlessly as he finally pushes his way inside of her, filling her to the brim.

Severus growls against her lips as he pumps in and out of her harshly. Danu wraps her legs around his waist and clutches on to his shoulders as his heart pounds against her own. Suddenly, he leans back on to his knees and stills himself inside of her. Her legs fall to his side, opened wide around him. He pries her hand from his shoulder, kisses her index finger as he stares into her eyes, then leads it down between the two of them. Severus watches, slowly rocking into her, as he guides her fingers in tight circles on her swollen clit. The act making her cheeks redden, but the storm within her grow to something she had yet to experience.

“Just like that.” Severus mumbles as he picks up speed once more. He grips her hand tightly, not daring to let it go.

“Severus. Severus don’t stop.” Danu pants as her legs begin to tremble and her stomach begins to clench.

Danu comes undone around him, one of her hands between her legs in an act she had never allowed him to see her preform, she had always waited until he was away to touch herself. It never felt anything like this, never had it been so all consuming, so mind numbing. Her legs tremble as he takes her hand from between her legs and pins it above her head. He moans against her neck as he continues to pump in and out of her, his movement becoming choppy and irregular.

“You feel incredible.” Severus growls against her neck before moaning deeply and collapsing on top of her.

Their naked bodies stick together as they both pant against one another’s neck. Danu scratches his back lightly with her fingernails as he shudders once more on top of her, then rolls over on to his back and throws his arm across his eyes. She rolls on to her side and runs a finger up the thin trail of black hairs that run from his navel down to his groin, stopping just before she gets to his public bone. His rubs jut with each labored breath he takes, his Adams apple dances in his throat as he swallows repeatedly.

“What was that about?” Danu giggles slightly as she scoots down to lay her head on his chest.

“Was that not adequate enough for you?” Severus mumbles between breaths.

“More than adequate.” She admits as she runs her fingertip along his ribs.

“Then why must you ask questions?” Severus asks with a breathy laugh as he removes his arm from his over his eyes and pulls her tighter against him.

“God, I love you.” Danu admits as she buries her face in his chest and smiles brightly.

“Hmm.” Severus grunts before kissing the top of her head and taking her left hand in his, their rings clinking together slightly.

Severus hadn’t taken his wedding band off once that year on the rare occasion that he had left the headmaster’s tower to deal with something below. If anyone had noticed him wearing it, he did not say, and she had not read it in the papers.

He makes to sit up suddenly, pushing her gently from his chest before placing his index finger beneath her chin and kissing her gently on the lips. It was the first time he had ever willingly kissed her when they weren’t actively making love. Her heart skips a beat as she leans in for another, Severus runs his fingers through her hair before turning from her to search for his pants. Once he had located them, he digs deeply into the pocket for something before turning towards her new jewelry box that he had gotten her months before. She watches as he lifts the lid and retrieves the silver chain for holding vials of potions he had gotten her for Christmas the year before. Severus attaches whatever he had retrieved from his pants to the end, then comes to her to secure it around her neck. Danu takes the vial in her hands and holds it up to the firelight in an attempt to identify the yellow watery liquid within. She was unable to and looks up at Severus expectantly.

“Anti-venom. Don’t take that off for any reason.” Severus demands before reaching into his sock drawer to produce a vial of Contraceptive Potion for her.

Chapter Text

“Tell me, Severus,” Amycus Carrow wheezes in Severus face outside of Hogwarts main entrance. “Do you make her scream just as I did?”

“My wife is none of your concern, Amycus.” Severus spits as shoves past Carrow.

“Oh, come on, Snape. You can’t tell me you haven’t had a piece of that sweet ass. Or are you not a man?” Amycus chuckles at him as he comes up behind him, narrowly avoiding stepping on his heel.

“I am twice the man you could even imagine being.” Severus spits as he whirls around to pin Amycus to the wall with one hand, his wand clenched in his other fist, pressing it into the bottom of Amycus’ chin.

“Touchy are we, Snape?” Amycus spits, his eyes darting towards Severus’ wand.

“You’d better pray I never hear you say another word against my wife.” Severus rages as he pushes himself away from Amycus and turns abruptly to stalk back towards the Headmaster's Tower.

“You’re only jealous that I had her first.” Amycus spits as he attempts to push past Severus.

“For one to be jealous, the other party must first have something that one wishes for. You, Amycus, have nothing that I wish for.” Severus makes his way around Amycus and through the main entrance.

Once inside, students flee in every direction to get as far away from his as possible. Potter’s word that he had killed Albus had spread like wildfire. Severus was honestly surprised so many families opted to send their children to school this year, especially the Weasley family, who still had their youngest child to get through school. In the distance, Minerva spots him, makes a sour face, and spins on her heel to avoid coming anywhere near him.

He went to his room and made love to his wife after his altercation with Carrow; not to prove anything, but because he could. Because she is his, and he is hers.

Because the screams that come from her mouth while he was inside of her is music to his ears. Because those screams were due to ecstasy, and not terror.
—

Severus does what he can to protect the students from both Carrow’s, but he can’t stop them entirely. When word got out that they were having students practice the Cruciatus Curse on one another as part of their power trip, he had tried to put an end to it. He went directly to the Dark Lord, tried to make him understand that torturing students was no way to get them to join His side. Despite now being His “right hand man,” He simply asked the Carrow’s not to use Slytherin students as their prey.

Sectumsempra was created as a means to an end. Severus hadn’t wanted to truly harm anyone, but the anger and rage bubbled within him. After Black had nearly had him killed by Lupin in his werewolf form by leading him to The Shrieking Shack and Albus blatantly ignored his cries for help, he needed to produce an effective form of protection. They had used Levicorpus, another of his own spells against him more times than he had been able to count. He hadn’t wanted any of them to get out; Lily, Mulciber, and Lucius were the only ones he had shown it to, but one of them let it leak and before he knew it, you could barely walk down a hall without being lifted it to the air by your ankles.

Severus kept Sectumsempra to himself, not even telling Lily of its creation. He had only used it twice on another person, and deeply regret it each time. The first was on James Potter after he and Sirius cornered him after his O.W.L’s, the second was in an attempt to protect two of the Seven Harry’s when they moved the true Harry from the Dursley’s to a safe house. It was months later that he learned it was Remus Lupin he had been trying to protect when his hand slipped, and he had accidentally cut off George Weasley’s ear. He couldn’t sleep or eat for days afterwards. He could have easily killed the poor boy, who had risked his own life protecting his brother’s best friend, protecting his own best friend’s son.

He saw firsthand the damage his own spell could cause in the hands of the wrong person as he looked down upon his godsons slashed body on the cold bathroom floor after Harry Potter had cast it. Severus muttered the counter-spell over the boy’s body as his heart pounded in his chest. He was terrified of losing Draco, filled with guilt over the fact that it had been his spell that would now leave his face and chest scarred for life.

Watching the horror and realization on his wife’s face as he taught her the spell nearly brought him to his knees. She needed to know it, though. When the day came that he could not protect her, she would need it to get away from Amycus Carrow, for he would take Severus’ death as a means to take back what he thought to be his.

He knew that Longbottom and the Weasley girl had restarted Dumbledore’s Army not long after the start of the school year and did all he could to ensure the Carrow twins were busy in the dungeons or off on an errand. Because he himself could not access the Room of Requirements without fear of them finding out that he knew about it, he had begun leaving boxes of healing potions at the Hog’s Head in the dead of night to aid them, as he had also discovered that they had somehow managed to get it to create a tunnel directly to the pubs storeroom. When possible, he would send students to detention with Hagrid in the Forbidden Forrest. Outside of McGonagall and Slughorn, he was the only person that Severus trusted not to harm any of the students, and they would at the very least be out of the castle with someone who would make them feel safe.

As a way to further protect the students from harm, he had re-enacted the Educational Decree Number Twenty-Four, as there are safety in numbers. The Carrows could not hunt down and harm every single student, much to their displeasure. If the students were in packs, they were more likely to get away, and more likely to run for help or outnumber the twins. Not to mention, plot. Sooner or later, word would spread, which would result in more students becoming aware of Dumbledore’s Army, thus protecting more of them. Think what he may of Longbottom’s potions skills, he was certainly good at undermining two sadistic professors.

However, Longbottom, Weasley, and Lovegood together were terrible at breaking into offices to try and steal fake swords. Severus had just come down from having dinner with his wife and had intended to speak with Phineas on the current whereabouts of Potter and his slew of idiots, when he saw movement and a flash of red from the window.

After quietly opening the door and slinking in without notice, he catches the Weasley girl standing from behind the glass case holding the fake Sword of Gryffindor before passing the sword to a waiting Longbottom. After taking the sword from them and sentencing them to detention with Hagrid, he finds Lovegood guarding the door for them, and sends her with them. Albus advises him to give the fake sword to The Dark Lord, who has Bellatrix put it in her vault at Gringotts. Two days later, they then send Phineas to spread the word to Potter through his second portrait tucked in to Granger’s purse. Obviously, they couldn’t tell Potter that the real sword was still at Hogwarts, but they could tell him that the real sword could destroy Horcrux’s and had hoped that Granger would have been smart enough to read between the lines.

She was not.

—

The connection The Dark Lord had with the snake was something Severus had never seen before, and it frightened him to no end. It had become clear to him, even without Albus having to tell him, that Nagini the snake was the final Horcrux. The two were able to silently communicate with one another, feel the other’s emotions. Watching it was unsettling, thinking of it sent a chill down his spine.

Severus didn’t even need to ask for any of the snake’s venom, the Dark Lord gave it to him willingly in the middle of October for safe keeping and ordered him to create a complex potion with it.

The very potion he had used to keep himself alive after his first downfall.

He was making plans to come back should he fail a second time.

Severus did as he was told, for the most part. He purposely omitted most of the snake's venom from the potion, instead opting to create the very anti-venom that had saved Arthur Weasley’s life years prior. This anti-venom now hung securely around his wife’s neck should The Dark Lord set the snake upon her to get back at him. Severus handed the weak potion to The Dark Lord who seemed to be none the wiser. He didn’t even check the potion to ensure its potency.

The Dark Lord had the snake stationed safely in Godric’s Hollow for the better part of three months. He had killed Bathilda Bagshot and used the snake to reanimate her rotting corpse. The Dark Lord knew, thanks to the prior connection of he and Potter’s minds, just how sentimental the boy truly was. Potter would return to Godric’s Hollow at some point, and Nagini would be waiting to draw him in and alert her master.

—

His wife spends Christmas Day 1997 tucked securely beneath a blanket on the fainting couch before a fire, a book in her lap, a never-ending supply of tea in her hand as the snow falls outside. Severus watches her from a distance for most of the day, trying his best to sear her exact image into his brain should anything happen to her as a result of Potter’s escape from Godric’s Hollow. The Dark Lord was furious, and the only thing that ever came from His fury was retaliation. It didn’t even matter if His victim had anything to do with what angered Him, whatever name came to His mind first was going to die.

It could be her that he must watch die next, and there was nothing that he would be able to do to prevent it.

Severus watches as she turns the final page of the book she had been reading, places her now empty mug of tea on the ground and stretches her arms high above her head as she yawns deeply. He comes from behind and places a small box wrapped in bright green paper on her lap and watches as she carefully unwraps the box and smiles up at him when the silver charm bracelet within is revealed.

He had spotted the small pendants in a shop while he was purchasing new quills weeks prior and decided to buy them for her for Christmas. The bracelet itself is a simple woven silver thing, the pendants attached to it are what make it special.

A small silver bat and a matching doe.

“You do so much for me, and I can’t even buy you a Christmas gift.” His wife whispers as he clasps the bracelet on to her wrist.

“There is nothing that I need.” Severus murmurs as she wraps her arms around his neck and kisses his cheek.

“You don’t need to keep buying me things, Severus. I told you before, I only want you.” The weight of her head on his chest making him feel whole for the first time in months.

“Do you not like it?” Severus asks as he wraps his arms around her waist and breathes in her scent, doing his best to etch that into his memory as well.

“I love it. I just feel bad because I want to give you gifts, too.”

Severus does not sleep that night. Instead, he spends hours pacing the Headmaster’s Office waiting for Phineas to bring back news of Potter’s safety and possible whereabouts, and watching his wife sleep peacefully in bed.

—

Boxing Day 1997

Severus stands before the railing overlooking the Headmaster’s Office, behind him is the small library he had created for his wife. Draco sits before the fire sipping tea; his wife is safely tucked into the bath. He had asked her not to come down, he needed to speak to Draco privately.

Phineas had brought news earlier in the day that Potter and Granger had made camp in the Forest of Dean. Weasley had still not rejoined them, and no news of him had surfaced. After consulting with Albus, it was decided that he would bring the duo the Sword of Gryffindor shortly after dark. If he should somehow fail, if he were spotted by Potter or Granger, it was over for him.

Severus turns and makes his way towards the back of the room to retrieve a cardboard box. Inside is the small pewter cauldron his mother had bought for him when he was a boy; the very cauldron Severus had taught young Draco with. He wanted the boy to have it, to look upon it and think of him, to use it to teach his own children. Severus places the box on Draco’s lap and sits next to him on the sofa as he peers down into it.

“A cauldron?” Draco asks as he lifts his head to meet Severus’ eyes.

“Yes. I would like for you to have it.” Severus sighs as he lifts one brow at the boy.

“I already have a cauldron. A gold one. You gave it to me for my birthday after I passed my O.W.L.”

“You may recall, Draco, that this is the cauldron I used to tutor you when you were a boy.” Severus watches as Draco pulls the cauldron from the box, he had forgotten just how small it actually was.

“Why do you want me to have it?” Draco asks as he cups the cauldron in his hands, the firelight reflects off of the tarnished metal giving it an ominous look.

“Use it to teach your children.” Severus admits as Draco looks to him once more.

“I am seventeen. You are married. Shouldn’t you be using this for your kids? Besides, I do not plan to have children.” Draco sounds offended but continues cupping the cauldron in his hands.

“You and I both know that your parents will expect it. It is up to you to carry on the Malfoy name.”

“My parents should have thought of that before they decided to only have one kid.” Draco mumbles as he rolls his eyes.

“Draco.” Severus begins as he stands and makes his way back to the banister. “I must ask something of you.”

“What?”

“I must ask that you look after my wife should anything happen to me. Just ensure she is taking care of herself, that no harm comes to her. That is all.”

Severus clasps his hands behind his back and looks over the railing at the office below, trying his best not to imagine his wife mourning him. Just then, a movement upstairs catches his attention. No doubt his wife emerging from the bath to warm her feet before the fire as she was known to do. Severus looks over his shoulder to catch a glimpse of Draco looking up at the ceiling, following the sounds of his wife’s footsteps as she crosses the room above them.

“Why me? Why not ask—”

“Because, Draco, I am trusting you. I trust that you would not harm her or allow any harm to come to her. Because you are my godson, and I would not ask this of anyone else.” Severus turns his back on Draco once more, he can practically hear the gears turning in the young man’s head.

“You’re…you’re not asking me to marry her, are you? Because The Dark Lord, he’s already said I’m to marry one of the Carrow girls.”

“No, Draco. I am not asking you to marry my wife.” Severus sneers between grit teeth, the thought of her taking anyone else as her husband causing a bile to rise in the back of his throat. Draco makes his way to his side and grips the banister tightly, his knuckles turning white.

“I hope that nothing happens to you.” Draco whispers as Severus reaches out and grips the boy firmly on the shoulder.

—

Severus finds himself circling Potter and Granger’s camp, getting a feel of the land. Potter would only take the sword if he felt he had worked for it. He sees Potter in the distance leaning against their tent, his head falling forward then jerking upright as he tried desperately to keep himself awake. The boy looked so strikingly like his father, more so in the dead of night with stubble on his face.

Severus makes his way through the trees, further and further away from the camp, and towards the edge of a pond where he quickly drops the sword in the middle and cast his Patronus in the direction of the camp. He has himself hidden behind a large oak tree as he listens to Potter’s heavy stride come closer and closer.

“No, come back!” Potter shouts as his doe dissipates before each of their eyes.

Potter casts Lumos before kneeling at the ponds edge. He murmurs something in the darkness, but the call of an owl drowns out whatever he had said. Before he knows it, Potter has stripped and dove into the frozen water. Severus’ breath catches in his throat, terrified of what may happen to the boy. Potter sloshing and sputters in the water, Severus swallows his fear and steps out from behind the trees, ready to pry the boy from the water and wrap his cloak around his freezing body. Just as he steps out from behind the tree, Weasley comes running down the hill towards them. Severus ducks back behind the tree and watches as Weasley pulls Potter from the pond, the sword gripped tightly in his fist.

“Are. You. Mental?” He hears Weasley ask as he turns and quickly Apparates back to the Hogwarts gates.

—
First May 1998

Severus finds himself standing before the open doors in the Headmaster’s Office, the sun hangs low in the sky as the late spring air fills the room. He sneezes once, wipes his nose on the back of his hand as a child would, and continues to filter through memories in his head. Once he is satisfied, he watches out of the corner of his eye as a blue wisp flows from his temple and towards his wand. He safely bottles the memories, corks the glass vial, and places it on his desk next to his will, a signed dead, the key to his wife’s home on Spinner’s End, his thin gold wedding band, and a letter to his wife which included her Gringott’s vault number and the account number to a Muggle bank account he had opened and deposited a substantial amount of money shortly after Christmas written on the bottom. Next, he reaches into the top drawer of the headmaster’s desk, produces her old copy of The Hobbit, writes a quick message on the inner cover, and places it next to the growing pile. He runs his fingers over the dried ink on the letter he had written to her, his tears had slightly streaked some of the words, but it was still readable.

The Dark Lord had become increasingly unpredictable since Potter’s escape from Malfoy Manor in March. Something was going to happen this day, he could not put his finger on what, but he could feel it in his soul. He would not have time, nor an excuse to get his wife out of the castle. This is why he trained her, but he would still lock her in the office before he left.

Severus Tobias Snape will die before the end of summer.
Whether it be by The Dark Lord’s hand, Harry Potter’s, or the Ministry for what he has done, he was unsure.
He knows, though, that he is on borrowed time.

The clock is ticking.

Severus turns, takes a long look at the office he had grown to know so well over the course of twenty-seven years, puffs out his chest, and climbs the steep stone stairs to the balcony where he had left his wife reading at the wrought iron table outside of their chamber door.

She looks up at him, the sun gleaming off of her red hair. She squints her blue eyes and smiles up at him as he rounds the corner. Severus holds his hand out, she takes it and stands as she turns her book down on the table, the pages splayed out to the side to save her place. He bends and kisses her deeply on the lips. She tastes of the pineapple and lemonade she had been snacking on throughout the day. Severus swipes his tongue across her bottom lip as she giggles and buries his hand in her hair with one hand, the other slides up her supple thigh.

“What’s gotten into you?” She giggles as he bends once more to take the skin of her neck between his teeth.

He shushes into her ear as she gasps slightly and leans further into his embrace. He needed to be inside of her, needed to feel her body one final time. Then he could die.

Her hands grip his shoulders firmly as he backs her into the room, his mouth not once leaving her neck as she moans. Severus pulls away to pull the cotton dress over her head as they cross the threshold, he takes a step back, his eyes roaming her body. The setting sun coming through the open doorway reflects off of her pale body, she stands nervously before him, unsure of what to do with her hands. He pulls her against him once more, his hands moving slowly down her sides, gripping her bottom tightly, then up her back to unclasp her bra. Her skin so soft, so warm. He buries his face in her neck once more, breathes in her scent, and backs her up against the bed as her bra falls to the floor.

Severus lies her back on the bed and slowly undresses himself as she gazes up at him, her blue eyes so full of burning passion. Once he is down to his shorts he goes down to his knees at the bedside and hooks his thumb beneath the waistband of her panties and pulls them down her legs slowly, his hands smoothing down her long legs. He brings his mouth to her calf, rubs his nose up to her knee as he grips her ankle before pinning her leg to the bed, the other rests on his shoulder. Severus kisses his way up her thigh as she pants and squirms beneath him.

The things he had read about in the book he had purchased to learn how to pleasure her, the things he had always been too embarrassed to try, he would do tonight. He wanted to taste her, needed to experience that sensual act that would set this time apart from every other time they had lie together.

“What are you doing?” She breathes as he places one hand on her lower stomach and sucks the soft skin of her inner thigh between his lips.

He doesn’t answer, instead he flattens his tongue and swipes it between her labia, she squeals and jerks violently. She grips the bed sheets tightly as he does it over again before gripping the hand that rest on her lower stomach firmly. She tastes sweet, her arousal dominating each of his senses.

He sucks, licks, laps, and groans as she writhes and moans above him. His own arousal aching deep in his groin as she finishes with a force he had never seen before. She grips his neck tightly with her thighs, her back arched completely off of the mattress as she screams his name.
Severus rests his head on her lower stomach and breathes heavily, each breath from his lungs hitting her causes her to jerk and tremble as she pants and clenches the sheets. Finally, he lifts his head to meet her eyes, the blue of them dazzling with her recent release. He kisses his way up her stomach, stopping briefly to take her left nipple between his lips. She cups the back of his head, holding him close to her as he sucks greedily at her breast.

“I need you.” She begs beneath him as she wraps her legs around his waist and pulls him tighter against her.

He needs her, too.

Severus leans back, grips himself, and watches as he slowly presses into her. Each of them letting out a slow, deep breath as buries himself deep inside of her.

—

Harry Potter has broken in to Gringott’s, stolen something from Bellatrix’ vault, rode off on a dragon, and had somehow made his way into the castle. The Dark Lord’s voice had been raging in their heads since He had gotten word.

Lucky for Severus, he had been able to finish making love to his wife and got to hold her in his arms for several moments before he had to pry himself from her loving embrace and leave her side for what will likely be the final time. He kisses her deeply, dresses as she smiles back at him.

“Stay here. No matter what you hear, don’t leave the office.” Severus demands as he pulls his cloak over his shoulders and slides an empty vial into her pocket.

“What’s wrong?” She asks, her brows furrowed slightly as she pulls her dress over her head, not bothering with her bra or panties.

Severus walks to her, cups her face in his large hands, and bends to kiss her one final time. He pulls her against his chest and breathes in the scent of her hair.

“I care for you more than you will ever know.” Severus whispers against her head as his eyes sting with unshed tears. He releases her and stalks from the room, not daring to turn his head as she follows him down the steep stone stairs and into the Headmaster’s Office below. If he were to turn his head, see the worry he knew to be etched on to her beautiful face, he would not be able to leave.

Alecto Carrow alerts that Potter is in the Ravenclaw common room. Severus drags his feet, hoping to give him time to make a move so he can catch him alone. He is likely traveling beneath the cloak, so Severus moves slowly, careful not to make much noise. Behind him in the darkened hall, Severus hears Minerva’s hushed voice and steps behind a suit of armor.

“Who is there?” Minerva breathes, undoubtedly, she had heard his steps as he moved hurriedly behind the armor.

“It is I.” Severus announces, his heart pounding in his throat as he steps from behind the armor. “Where are the Carrows?”

He had wanted the as far away as possible, he would kill them himself if need be.

“Wherever you told them to be, I expect, Severus.” Minerva spits.

Severus’ eyes flick around her in the darkness, trying to gauge where Potter was. He knew that he was with her, he could feel the rage bubbling from him beneath the cloak.

“I was under the impression that Alecto had apprehended an intruder.” Severus answers, his voice much colder than he had intended. He flexes his left arm, his Mark burning worse than it ever had before.

“Oh, but naturally. You Death Eaters have your own private means of communication. I forgot.” Her words a slap in the face, just as he meant for them to be. He wanted to take her in his arms, cry on her shoulder, and explain everything.

After he was gone, perhaps she could forgive him.

He hadn’t meant to cause her to fight, hadn’t wanted to anger her. He had foolishly hoped that Potter would show himself, that he would be able to pull him in to a class and force him to listen. It did not work out that way. Severus found himself jumping from a classroom window, plummeting towards the ground as he propelled himself upwards with combination of a feather-light charm and levitation charm as The Dark Lord had accidentally taught him years before. If Minerva killed him, or overpowered him and locked him up somewhere, he would not have the opportunity to tell Potter everything that he needed to know. He would have to find another way to get him alone.

—

The Dark Lord had been waiting in the Shrieking Shack, away from the fighting and death on the grounds. He calls to Severus as he is hiding behind a bush, doing his best to pick off any Death Eaters as they swarmed the castle, and adding his own protection charms to the castle.

Severus holds his head high, straightens his back, and makes his way to Him. He would not be able to get Potter alone after all, but perhaps he would find another moment to get his memories to him. He could not risk doing it now, not when he was going to meet The Dark Lord, He would know.

“Severus.” The Dark Lord hisses as Severus makes his way through the tunnel and into the darkened room.

The Dark Lord barricades the entryway as Severus steps in and survey’s his surroundings. The room is far more destroyed than he remembered it being the last time he was here; the day he found his wife hiding in the parlor below the summer before her seventh year. Above him, Nagini swirls and coils in a massive glowing orb The Dark Lord had constructed to keep her safe.

“My Lord,” Severus begins as bile rises in his throat. “Their resistance is crumbling—”

“—And it does so without your help. Skilled wizard though you are, Severus, I do not think you will make much difference now. We are almost there. Almost.” The Dark Lord hisses as he turns his red snake eyes towards him. The hairs on the back of Severus’ neck stand, a chill runs down his spine.

“Let me find the boy. Let me bring you Potter. I know I can find him, my Lord. Please.” Severus begs, desperate for any way to get the boy the truth before it is too late.

Potter is near, Severus can feel it. Whether The Dark Lord could sense him was unknown, but Severus knew that he was there, just beyond the crate He had stacked in front of the entrance. Severus paces in front of it, hoping to be close enough to protect him in case The Dark Lord realizes his presence.

“I have a problem, Severus.” The Dark Lord hisses as Severus turns his back to the entrance.

“My Lord?” Severus whispers, his heart hammering in his chest.

“Why doesn’t it work for me, Severus?” He asks, twirling the wand he had stolen from Albus’ grave in his hands.

It did not work, because it did not belong to Him.

“My—my Lord? I do not understand. You—you have performed extraordinary magic with that wand.” Severus couldn’t help but stutter, he was terrified, but not for himself. He was scared for Potter, for his wife, for every child and professor in that castle being forced to fight for their lives.

His heart hammers in his chest, the bile rises once more causing his eyes to burn slightly due to the stomach acid in the back of his throat. The Dark Lord was speaking, but he did not comprehend any of the words He was saying. Severus’ mind was on his wife. Her beautiful blue eyes, her red hair glowing in the sunlight earlier that day. The feel of her lips against his, her heart beating against his own, the way he woke up each morning pouring sweat as her warm body was plastered to his own. Severus thought of Lily, her smile and sweet laugh. Of her son, standing mere feet from him, her green eyes alive and gleaming on his young face, the face that looked so much like his father’s that he couldn’t help but hate him.

“No difference.” The Dark Lord says, dragging Severus from his thoughts.

He swallows once, straightens his back, and stares death in the face. The two go back and forth for several moments, Severus begging to go locate Potter, The Dark Lord refusing. Severus paces from his spot before the entrance, and to the far end of the room. When The Dark Lord finally strikes at him, he cannot risk Potter being injured as he stands behind him.

“The Elder Wand cannot serve me properly, Severus, because I am not its true master. The Elder Wand belong to the one who killed its last owner. You killed Albus Dumbledore. While you live, Severus, the Elder Wand cannot be truly mine.” The Dark Lord hisses at him.

“My Lord!” Severus exclaims, his voice higher than he intended as instinct takes over and he pulls his wand from his sleeve, gripping it tightly in his clenched fist. He would not be able to fight him off, not in a million years.

“It cannot be any other way. I must master the wand, Severus. Master the wand, and I master Potter at last.”

Severus jumps as The Dark Lord slashed his wand through the air, above him, a creaking sound causes his heart to stop for a moment. The cage holding Nagini falls from the ceiling and straight down on to his head. He screams as the bars hit him in the back of the head and pins his arms to his side. The Dark Lord hisses something in Parseltongue to Nagini, and she strikes. Another scream comes from his throat as the snake takes a chunk from his neck. Blood leaks down his chest, warming him slightly before panic truly sets in.

He will not be able to protect anyone else. If his were the only death that day, he could almost stomach leaving, but he knew his would not be. Innocent people will die, people who deserved to live far longer than he. Mothers, fathers, sons, daughters, children. Pure blood, half-blood, and Muggle born. They will all perish this night, and The Dark Lord could not care less.

Suddenly, his body is freed from the cage and Severus falls to the ground, his legs jerking from the intense pain radiating throughout his body as the venom enters his bloodstream. He tries to breathe, tries to regulate his beating heart to buy some time, but he cannot. The pain is more intense than anything he had ever felt, worse even than the Cruciatus Curse. He watches as The Dark Lord leaves the room slowly, Nagini in her magical orb floating softly behind him. The crate blocking the entrance lifts slightly, and Potter appears before him. For a moment, he thinks he hears a sob, but whether it came from his own throat or not he could not be sure. He presses his fingers in the deep gash in his neck, desperate to just hang on for a few more moments. He concentrates as hard as possible, and watches as the silvery blue memories escaping his mouth illuminate Potter’s frightened face.

“Take….it…Take….it.” Severus uses every bit of strength he has left to command Potter to take the valuable information he was giving to him.

His hands were growing numb, his body ice cold. He wanted to sleep, to close his eyes and wake up again tomorrow when the worst of the pain had subsided.

“Look….at….me.” Severus whispers to Potter.

Potter lifts his head slightly, his mother’s green eyes looking into his own. Severus sighs, his body warming momentarily at the thought of Lily. He turns his head, ready to fall asleep, when he sees her.

Lily.

There she sits, right next to him at last. Her head bowed, her red hair gleaming in the moonlight that seeped through the boards covering the windows. He tries to reach out and touch her, his blood soaked fingers moving in slow motion before his arm drop suddenly, too weak to move any further. He takes one last deep breath, closes his eyes, and moans deeply before opening his eyes once more and catching sight of the most beautiful tear-filled blue eyes he had ever seen.

It was not Lily he had seen; it was his wife. He panics once more, wondering how she had gotten out of the office, how she would be safe out here in the midst of a war. He tried to find words, tried to get his hands to grasp Potter’s, to make him take her elsewhere, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t move.

“I…..I…love….you.” He manages at last before a weight drapes across his chest.

And he meant it. He loved her with such a force that it consumed his entire being, ached his heart, and filled him with such pride and joy each time she was near him. When she wasn’t near, his every thought was of her. His duty, he now realized, though much too late, was to his wife.

Now there is nothing.
The pain is gone at last as his body relaxes and the breath leaks from his lungs as blood pools in the center of his chest from the gaping wound in his neck.

Chapter Text

“I care for you more than you will ever know.” Severus whispers against the top of her head as he pulls her tighter into his arms.

His warm, strong arms release her, leaving her chilled as the late spring breeze drift into the room from the still opened door. The sun had recently set in the sky, the day drawing to an end. Her heart skips a beat, something is wrong. Severus grips his left arm tightly as he quickens his pace down the stone stairs leading to the Headmaster’s Office. Danu tries to keep up with him, she calls to him to wait for her, but he ignores her as he rounds the corner and disappears into the office. As she steps through the threshold, Severus closes the main door behind him. She was too late.

Danu freezes a moment, mouth slightly open in confusion. He had made love to her, held her in his arms afterwards, and then fled. Severus left frequently, was called upon at the drop of a hat, and yet, this time was different.

“He has left something for you.” Phineas Black’s voice cuts through the silence, she lifts her head and looks towards his portrait where he now stood close to the frame craning his neck slightly as if to try and see what it was Severus had left.

“What?” Danu asks, looking around the room for what Phineas was referring to.

“Don’t ask me. I only saw him retrieving some memories and stacking bits of things there on the desk.” Phineas gestures with his chin towards the claw-foot desk standing proudly mere feet from where she stood.

Danu makes her way towards the desk, her eyes fluttering from her great-great-great-grandfathers familiar face, and the pile of papers and random objects on the desk. Her hand reaches for the small vial on the desk, its contents silvery-blue and swirling around the bottom as if it were fog. It was not liquid, not quite gas, but was hypnotic as she watches the mysterious substance coil and ripple before prying her eyes from it and picking up a letter addressed to her.

Mrs. Snape,

I would like to start by apologizing for any pain I may have caused you during the course of our marriage. It was never my intent to marry; I was quite content remaining a bachelor, and if I am being honest, did not find myself worthy of a marriage.

You may have seen my memories at this point, if so, they may paint some light as to my reasons for this. If you have not already seen them, or if you are unsure of how to view them, you must simply pour the memories from the vial into the pensive next to the desk. I do hope that viewing those memories do not change your opinion of me.

You accused me of not being able to stand you, of not liking you, and even once of hating you. This could not be further from the truth. I must admit, I was apprehensive of you when I first saw you. If you have, in fact, seen my memories by this point, you may have an understanding as to why.

I was quite annoyed when Albus first assigned you to me for extra tutoring. However, I quickly took a liking to you. I would like to take a moment to assure you that I held no romantic interests in you during the time you were my student. It was not until well after we were married that I began to regard you in such a manner.

I struggled rather childishly with the idea of our union; I thought myself much too old for you. I thought it too scandalous, too inappropriate. I took these emotions out on you, and for that I hold deep regret. You had far less say in the events that led up to our marriage than I did.

I asked you to take your own name in the event of my death, not for my own sake, but for yours. While it is true that I would rather the name end with me, I believe you will have a much easier time after my passing with the Black name as opposed to Snape.

Do not think for a single moment that I was ever embarrassed to be your husband. You have been the greatest thing to have ever graced my life. I would have gone to the ends of the world for you. You confided in me shortly before the end of your seventh year that you were afraid you were not good enough, or that you may fail. Do not ever be fearful of this, for you are one of the most capable and competent women I have ever met. You will succeed in anything that you do. You are kind, intelligent, beautiful, loyal, and courageous.

You are not a coward.
You are one of the bravest people I have ever known.

I took your future from you. You would have made a phenomenal addition to St. Mungo’s. I can never give you that missed opportunity back. You have made me proud every moment I have known you.
(The summer I found you living in The Shrieking Shack aside. That was quite foolish of you.)

I understand that I have asked too much of you; I have one final request. When you are ready, find someone who adores you as I do, but are not afraid to tell the world. Do not allow them to keep you locked in a dungeon or take their frustrations out on you. They must worship you and never be afraid to tell you that they love you.

My hope is that you have a long and wonderful life. Do this for me. Do not mourn for me, the thought of causing you more pain with my absence is too much for me to bare. Do not for a moment think that this is in any way your fault. I have made my bed. I have done this to myself.

I have taken the liberty of signing our home over to you. You own it outright; you may do with it as you see fit. I have also opened a Muggle bank account for you, there you will have access to any funds you may need for its upkeep. The checkbook associated with it is located to the left of this letter. My Gringott’s vault is now yours as well, the key is on top of the Muggle checkbook. Your wand is on file, and they know to expect you. The vault is number 394.

There is enough inside of the vault for you to live a comfortable life. Do not take shame in this, you are my wife, and it is my duty to protect and care for you.

One of the biggest regrets of my life is never telling you that I love you. Thank you for making my final years’ worth living. I only wish we could have had more time. I have asked my godson, Draco Malfoy, to check in on you. You can trust Draco. Confide in him, allow him to be a friend. He did not have a choice in his associations.

It has been a joy to call you my wife.
I love you with every beat of my heart.
-Severus Snape

Tears stream down her face and mingle with Severus’ on the parchment she grips tightly in her hands, crumpling the edges slightly with the force which she shook. A commotion within the portraits lining the walls grabs her attention, she lifts her head, whipping it around the room as the many voices make it hard to decipher what is happening.

“What does it say? What does it say?” Phineas’ voice booms above the rest, but they do not stop their chatter.

“What’s happened?” Danu asks through the sobs wracking her body as her eyes continue to roam the portraits lining the walls.

“The letter!” Phineas demands. “What does the letter say?”

“He—he has gone to die.” Danu admits, not wanting it to be true.

Danu runs to the door, the vial and letter still clutched protectively in her hands, and attempts to pry it open, only to finds it to be sealed shut, just as his chamber door had been the first year she was married to Severus. She needed to find him, to convince him not to do whatever it was that he had planned to do. She needed to be with him, even if it meant they both die. She turns and runs back towards the opened doors to retrieve her wand, but a soft glow on the desk catches her eye. With a shaking hands, she places the letter and vile back on the desk before reaching out to pick up Severus’ thin gold wedding band between thumb and forefinger, the metal ice cold. She places it in her palm and squeezes it tightly, the edges digging into her skin.

“Where is he?” Danu demands as she looks up at her ancestor's stern blue eyes.

“I do not know.” Phineas replies with his chest puffed out.

“What is happening out there?” Danu asks, the commotion that had only moments before been confined to only the portraits lining the walls was now filtering through the opened balcony door behind her.

“Harry Potter is in the castle.”

Danu’s heart stops, her skin turns a sickly white. If Harry Potter is in the castle, then so is You-Know-Who. This means war. It means her husband will either die at the hands of a sadistic tyrant, or by a dementor in a cold prison cell in Azkaban. She slips his ring over her thumb, the only finger it fit on, and goes to turn once more to make her way up to their chambers to retrieve her wand.

“THE MEMORIES!” Phineas bellows once more, practically shaking his frame in an attempt to get out. “View the memories!”

Danu turns back around, grips the vial in her hand, tears still streaming from her face. She makes her way to the pensive which stood in front of Albus Dumbledore’s empty frame. She looks around, most of the portraits had left to their second or third frames within the castle to watch the goings on below. Only Phineas and a handful of others remain, each leaning forward and watching her intently as she chokes on her tears before them. She pops the cork and tilts the vial slightly, its contents snaking out and streaming through the liquid within the pensive.

“What now?” Danu asks as she pries her eyes from the swirling liquid and over towards Phineas, who was at this point pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head slightly. She had never used the pensive before.

“Why, you plunge your head in! What else would you do?” A portrait behind her exclaims.

Danu grips the edge firmly with one hand, pinches her nose with the other, and plunges her head in as she was told. She had been expecting it to be like plunging your head in the bath, but it was not. She did not become soaked as her body was seemingly sucked into the small tub.

As an eerie grey fog lifts, Danu sits hunched beneath something in a bitterly cold and dark room. It takes several moments for her eyes to adjust, once they do, she finds herself hiding beneath a table. A man is shouting, his words slurred slightly. Danu peaks her head from beneath for a closer look and as moonlight filters in from a window, realizes she is in the kitchen at Spinner’s End. The man was shouting at a woman, who sat crouched against the counter with her arms shielding her head. The man throws a glass at her, as it shatters around the woman, Danu hears a small gasp behind her and whirls around, still on her hands and knees in the filthy floor.

Cowering against the wall with their legs clutched to their chest is a small child. It is much too dark to see their features, or even their age, but Danu crawls to them, nonetheless. She tries to grip their arm, but her hand goes straight through it. She sits shocked for a moment, staring at her hand.

“Can you hear me?” Danu whispers as the man beyond the table becomes louder and louder.

“Mummy!” The child sobs before they are dragged from beneath the table and the scene changes.

Danu now stands in the corner of the bedroom her, and Severus had moved in during the previous summer. A boy no older than seven with ill fitting, mix-matched clothing, shaggy black hair that was so greasy and unkempt it seemed to be deliberate, and a dirt smeared face lifts himself from the bare mattress on the floor. As the boy moves closer to her to retrieve a pair of ratty shoes with holes in the toes, Danu realizes that the boy is Severus. Her heart sinks when she realizes that the child in the previous memory had been him as well.

A shout comes from the main floor. Danu watches as young Severus trembles, his bottom lip quivering slightly. She tries to reach out to him once more, to comfort him, when she notices bruises in the shape of a large hand littering both of his thin, frail arms. It seemed as if someone had taken his little arms in their hands and violently twisted them.

Movie reel like flashes occur now, each snippet lasting only a few seconds before changing to the next. Severus grows slightly older in each one, the woman with him increasingly more bruised and frailer.

First is him and a woman who looked identical to him, no doubt his mother. Severus sits in her lap, her wand gripped in his hand as she uses her own hand cupped protectively over his to guide his movements. Next they are sitting next to one another on the floor, a book opened at their feet as she points to the page. As Danu moves closer, she can see that the book they are reading from is Advanced Potions, and she remembers Severus telling her that his mother had been the one to teach him to brew. Each snippet is similar to the last, Severus looking to his mother expectantly as she teaches him a spell, a potion, or points out meager ingredients lined before them.

The snippets end as Danu blinks her eyes rapidly to rid herself of the motion sickness she experienced with the flashing images. She sits next to Severus on a bed in what appears to be the Slytherin common room. He is reading a letter, and as she cranes her neck slightly, finds that it is from his mother, instructing him to steal certain ingredients from Slughorn’s closet. She knew Slughorn was the current Potions professor, but he had apparently been Severus, and his mother’s professor as well.

Danu follows Severus to what will one day be his own private room and guards the door as he quickly riffles through the ingredients, unsure if she would even be able to do anything to warn him of coming danger.

The scene shifts once more and they now stand in their old bedroom at Spinner’s End, the interior exactly the same as it had been when the two of them shared the room. Eileen stirs a bubbling cauldron, Severus paces between his mother and the window.

“It’s still clear.” Severus mumbles as he makes his way back to his mother’s side.

“Good.” Eileen replies, her voice frantic yet gentler than Danu had expected it to be.

“Mum. What is this for?” Severus asks as he pulls on his mother’s sleeve. She gasps slightly and jerks her sleeve from his grasp, as she does, she lifts it slightly on her arm to reveal what looked to be a badly broken arm based on the color of the bruising and the intense swelling. Danu and Severus each suck air through their teeth at the sight of it.

“Listen to me, Severus.” Eileen begins as she sits on the edge of the bed and grips her sons shoulders. Severus straightens his back and looks his mother in the eye, the very shape and color of his own. “I will be quite ill after I take this. I need you to keep away from Tobias. I will not be able to protect you. I will be fine, love. Just look after yourself for me, please.”

Severus sniffles slightly but nods his head at his mother as she stands once more and drinks greedily from the ladle she had pulled from the cauldron. Snippets from the night flash, Eileen writhing in bed clutching her stomach, Severus pacing, Severus moping her forehead with a cloth, Severus holding her hand, and then finally, it is morning and Eileen sits propped against the pillows on the bed, her face grey and sickly looking. Eileen stands then, her legs weak and wobbly, only to reveal a large blood stain on the sheets. Danu gasps, wondering for a moment if this is how his mother had died. A chill runs down her spine as she recalls Severus telling her that his father’s name was Tobias, and it is why he hates his middle name.

Severus gets to work pulling the stained sheets from the bed and balling them up, Danu follows him to the river where he quickly fills the sheets with rocks, ties a knot in the top, and chucks it into the river. The two of them walk back home, Severus sniffling slightly as he keeps his head down against the cold wind cutting through the valley. Once they return to the bedroom, Eileen is scrubbing the mattress, a blood-stained basin of water on the vanity next to the bed. Danu shutters slightly as Severus takes the rag from her hand and sits her at the vanity before turning and cleaning the mattress for her.

“Mum.” Severus whispers as he rings the cloth in the bloody basin. “Are you going to be alright?”

“Severus,” Eileen begins as she clutches her stomach. “You will be a man one day. I need you to promise me that you will not be like him. I need you to be a good man.”

“I promise, Mum.” Severus whimpers as he falls to his knees at his mother’s side and takes her blood-stained hands in his own. “What happened? What did Tobias do to you?”

“There was a child growing inside of me. But not anymore.” Eileen sighs deeply as she lifts her head, a tear falling from her long black lashes. “You were the only one strong enough to endure him. I am so sorry, Severus.”

The scene changes once more, Severus stands in the tiny kitchen, his fists clenched at his sides, his shoulders shaking slightly. He is older, perhaps late teens.

“You deserve it!” Severus sneers at his mother, her back is to him, her shoulders hunched over the kitchen sink.

“Sever—”

“No! You stayed with a filthy Muggle, let him torture us for years! You deserve what’s coming to you!” Severus turns and storms from the house, the scene swirls, and changes once more. Danu wished to go back, to pull Eileen into her arms and beg her to leave the house with them.

Severus is older now, but only slightly. He is cleaner than she had seen him in any of the previous memories, his clothes fitting well, his shoes without holes. He opens the front door, slamming it against the wall. The home is filthy, even by its previous standards. Take-away containers and empty liquor bottles litter the floor. Roaches scurry as Severus’ boots make their way into the kitchen.

“Mum?” Severus asks. “It’s me; Severus. May I speak with you?”

No answer. Danu’s heart skips a beat as Severus looks around the room. Dirty dishes erupt from the sink, the icebox door had been left open. The garbage can is toppled over, trash spilling on to the floor. Broken glass and food is everywhere.

“Mum. I’m sorry. Please, where are you?”

“Out back.” A man’s deep voice replies from somewhere in the house, no doubt Tobias. Severus stiffens but pushes the door open and makes his way out of the door, Danu right on his heels. They each look around; the garden is deserted except for a large flat stone peeking out from between the neatly trimmed rose bushes. As they get closer, they find a crudely carved E atop the stones face. Severus stares emotionlessly at the stone, his clenched fists shaking at his sides as he breathes heavily. She wished she could touch him, comfort him in some way.

Eileen was dead.

The memory swirls once more as Danu tries to catch her breath, her heart aches for Severus, for Eileen, and the pain they endured under Tobias Snape’s thumb. Once more, snippets of scenes flash before her as she stands in the background soaking them in.

Severus crouches behind a tree, he couldn’t have been any older than ten. Danu crouches down next to him to get a view of what he was seeing. Two girls play at a park, one blonde, the other red haired. The image changes and Severus is now walking up to the red-haired girl. As they approach her, Danu is hit with a pang of realization; this girl looks far too much like herself, except with green eyes. They stand in the very park she played in as a child, Danu looks around, realizing that it had not changed at all in all the years between Severus’ childhood and her own.

Severus tells the girl that she is a witch, and she believes him to be lying to her. The other girl, the blonde one, sneers at Severus and drags the red-haired girl down the hill, away from Severus who stands saddened and confused. The image changes, and now Severus lies with the girl beneath the large tree in the park, a book opened in the grass before them as leaves rain down from the trees, despite the still air. Danu bends down to see what they were reading, The Hobbit. The very copy Severus had given her for Christmas during her sixth year.

The girl, whom she had learned was named Lily, and Severus stand outside of the Hogwarts Express. Severus is alone, neither Eileen nor Tobias are present. Lily stands next to the blonde-haired girl Danu had learned was her sister. Both girls look upset, Lily’s bottom lip trembles slightly.

Danu’s breath is knocked from her lungs as she recognizes Sirius Black. He is young, a truly beautiful child. His grey eyes shimmer with happiness as he clasps another boy on the shoulder, two more trail behind them. To her left, Severus shudders.

The images bounce back and forth between he and Lily laughing, walking through the halls, and Sirius tormenting him. She is forced to watch him lift Severus in the air by his ankles, laugh at him, mock him. The one that cuts her the deepest, is when Sirius instructs him to go beneath the Womping Willow, at the end of the hall, a werewolf. She isn’t sure how he got away, but she knows that he did. It would be obvious if her husband were a werewolf.

Severus becomes darker, more closed off and desperate as he becomes older. Lucious Malfoy, and another boy whom Lily calls Mulciber whisper in his ear, convince him he will have everything he wants if he just joins them. Danu watches Severus struggle between them and Lily as she puts them down, tells Severus that they’re bad, all while he tries to convince her that James Potter and Sirius Black are the true bad guys.

It all comes to a head one warm spring day. Danu kneels behind Severus as he sits beneath a tree looking over his O.W.L paper. In the distance, Potter, Black, Lupin, and another she did not know sit on the grass. Severus stands suddenly, pushes his paper into his bag, and walks towards the group of boys, simply minding his own business and going about his day.

“All right, Snivellus?” James Potter asks, calling him that awful name Sirius had called him the day she had met him, the name that caused Severus to tense up and clench his teeth. Danu wanted to strike him.

Severus drops his bag instinctively and plunged his hand into his robes to produce his wand.

“EXPELLIARMUS!” James shouts, Danu watches as Severus’ wand goes flying as he stands there face turning red in anger and embarrassment.

“IMPEDIMENTA!” Sirius shouts between laughs, Severus falls to the ground as he was bent down reaching for his wand.

Other students begin to stand and gather, some snicker behind their hands. Danu feels the rage bubbling beneath the surface as her hands shake at her sides.

Severus lies on the ground panting, Sirius and James look around smiling at the crowed that had gathered. She wanted to kneel down beside him, pick him up, tell him that he was a better man than both James and Sirius combined.

“How’d the exam go, Snivelly?” James mocks.

“I was watching him, his nose was touching the parchment, They’ll be great grease marks all over it, they won’t be able to read a word.” Sirius barks viciously, no doubt proud of himself for what he was saying.

“You—wait..You just wait.” Severus sneers up at the boys, unable to move from the ground.

“Wait for what? What’re you going to do Snivelly, wipe your nose on us?” Sirius laughs.

Severus curses, words she had never heard him say before turning to hexes, his wand sits motionless just out of his reach.

“Wash out your mouth.” Says James. “Scourgify!”

Bubbles flow from Severus’ mouth, his eyes wide with fear and defeat as he begins to choke and gurgle. Danu squeezes her eyes shut and breathes heavily as her husband lies defeated on the ground and she unable to do anything to help him. Everyone around laugh and egg James and Sirius on. Her heart breaks all over again. Severus had already been through so much, had known so much pain and fear. He should have been safe at Hogwarts, just like she was.

“Leave him ALONE!” Someone shouts. Danu opens her eyes to see Lily pushing her way through the crowd of people gathered around Severus.

“All right, Evans?” James asks coldly.

“Leave him alone. What’s he done to you?” Lily demands. Danu breathes a sigh of relief; thankful someone was there to help Severus when she couldn’t.

Lily and James go back and forth for several moments over whether or not Lily should date him. Danu giggles slightly as Lily insults him. Glancing down, she realizes that Severus has been released and now has his wand grasped tightly in his hand as he stands to his feet. Just then, he points his wand at James and after a bright flash zips from the tip of Severus’ wand, a deep gasp appears on James’ face. Before anyone can move a muscle, James lifts his own wand, blood dripping from his face, and Severus is lifted into the air by his ankles. His robes fall down around his chest, his skinny pale legs shine in the afternoon sun, his underpants old and tattered, and beginning to grey from constant wear. Danu gasps and covers her mouth with her hand, her brow furrowed in pain as the crowd around them howl and cheer.

“LEAVE HIM ALONE!” Lily bellows, her face red with anger, her wand pointed at James.

“Ah, Evans. Don’t make me hex you.” James sneers.

“Take the curse off him then!”

“There you go.” James sighs as Severus falls to the ground and tries desperately to right himself. “You’re lucky Evans was here Snivell—”

“I don’t need help from filthy little Mudbloods like her!” Severus snaps. Danu gasps once more, momentarily disgusted he had called Lily that word when he was so angry when he learned Draco had called her the same thing.

The scenes flash once more, Severus begging for Lily’s forgiveness, Lily denying him. Severus leaning more on Mulciber, spending his free time at Malfoy Manor, and finally, standing before You-Know-Who himself, his arm out to receive his mark.

Severus is a young adult now, a terrified look on his face as he stands on the very cliff he had brought her to the night he had told her that she was a coward. With his wand gripped tightly in his hand, a second figure appears in the darkness as the wind whips around them and the oceans waves crash against the rocky cliffs, spraying them with water.

His wand suddenly flies from his hand as he falls to his knees, Dumbledore comes strolling towards him out of the darkness.

“Don’t kill me!” Severus pleads, his hands clasped in front of him.

“That was not my intention.” Dumbledore says coldly. “Well, Severus, what message does The Dark Lord have for me?”

“No—no message!” Severus exclaims as he wrings his hands before him. He is unhinged and frantic, she had never seen him like this before. “I am here on my own account!”

The wind whips frantically around them as Severus stands to his feet slowly, his eyes wide and desperate.

“I—I come with a warning— no! A request—Please!” Severus pleads, Dumbledore flicks his wand, and the wind stills, the ocean quiets. It is silent at last.

“What request could a Death Eater make of me?” Dumbledore asks, one brow raised at Severus. She had never heard him speak to Severus this way.

“The—the prophecy….the prediction..Trelawney…”

“Ah, yes. How much did you relay to Lord Voldemort?” Dumbledore asks, his tone ice cold as Severus slinks back slightly.

“Everything—everything I heard! That is why—it is for that reason—he thinks it means Lily Evans!”

“The prophecy did not refer to a woman, it spoke of a boy born at the end of July—”

“You know what I mean! He thinks it means her son; he is going to hunt her down—kill them all—”

“If she means so much to you, surely Lord Voldemort will spare her? Could you not ask for mercy for the mother, in exchange for the son?” Albus asks, Danu’s mouth falls open, her heart skips a beat. Severus had been the one to give the Potter’s to You-Know-Who.

“I have—I have asked him—” Severus is on his knees once more, pleasing with Dumbledore. She felt pity, shame, and most of all, heartbreak. Over everything Severus had endured, everything that he had seen and been through, and now, what he had done.

“You disgust me.” Dumbledore spits at Severus.

Once more the scene shifts; Severus in Dumbledore’s office, Severus bringing information to You-Know-Who, Severus teaching at Hogwarts. Finally, Severus sitting at the professors table during a sorting ceremony, when her name is called. His face is scrunched, his jaw tight.

Severus paces Dumbledore’s office, his fists clenched at his side as he rages, demanding to know who her father is, who her mother is. Severus watching her sitting in the back of his class, walking down the halls with her books clutched tightly at her chest, and her holding vials of potions up to the light. She could not deny the resemblance between her and Lily Evans.

“SIRIUS BLACK!” Severus bellows before slamming his fists down on Dumbledore’s desk.

“Don’t tell me that you still hold a grudge, Severus.” Dumbledore replies coldly.

“Do not think that I do not see the resemblance, Severus. Do not let it be the reason you help this girl.” Dumbledore says softly as the two men gaze down at her sleeping with her head resting on Severus’ desk the night he found her in The Shrieking Shack. Severus pinches the bridge of his nose as the scene changes again.

Severus is a young boy again, perhaps thirteen. He and Lily sit on the swings in the park, talking excitedly about what they will do first when they return to Hogwarts.

“Lily, love,” A gentle voice comes from behind, Danu turns and nearly faints at the image before her. There stands her mother, the spitting image of herself. Tear stings her eyes as she realizes that she can’t reach out and touch her, can’t hug her, can’t even speak to her. “Your mum said to tell you it’s time to come home.”

“Okay, Rose!” Lily exclaims. “Come on, Sev, walk me to the edge of the bridge!”

Now, Danu is being drug into the parlor of Malfoy Manor, her dress ripped exposing her breast. The man she had been so afraid of two years prior grips her hair tightly before throwing her down on the floor and hitting her with a Cruciatus Curse. Her heart pounds as she watches herself scream and writhe on the floor. No one makes a move to stop him.

Suddenly, Severus is gripping her wrist tightly as You-Know-Who binds them together with a golden wisp coming from the tip of his wand.

Severus tries desperately to hang on as he bounces between class, brewing, lessons with Potter, and caring for her as she fights him every day. He grows more and more exhausted, more on edge, until one day, he screams in her face, and she sees him for the first time. He holds her tight, his arms safety and protection.

Flashes of herself play before her, her smile, her laugh, her asleep on his chest. Severus watching her as she brews, combing her hair after a bath, kissing her on top of the head, and her kissing his neck as she made love to him.

“There’s one more thing I need to show you, Severus.” Dumbledore says as he pulls a blue strand from his temple and drops it in to the pensive. Danu watches as Severus grips the edges of the basin and plunges his head in just as she had.

She stands next to Severus, the edges of the memory slightly fuzzy, the two of them stand before a large house, snow falls around them. James Potter, Albus Dumbledore, and Remus Lupin stand next to them on the sidewalk. Sirius Black walks down steps holding a bundle tight against his chest. He stops before them, and they all look down at the bundle. Danu stands on her toes and cranes her neck above the men’s shoulders and looks down into her own sleeping face.

Sirius had held her, carried her from a strange home. She stands there for a moment, contemplating just how this could be possible, when Severus’ voice booms next to her.

“What is the meaning of this?” Danu looks to her right to find Severus standing before Dumbledore in his office, his face red and beaming with anger.

“What you have just witnessed, Severus, is the night we obliterated Rose Evans and left her daughter at an orphanage.”

Danu heaves, bile choking the back of her throat. The whole time, Dumbledore knew. Sirius knew, Lupin knew, and Severus knew. They all lied directly to her face. She didn’t know who to trust anymore, who had truly cared about her. Her hands shake, she wants out of the pensive, she doesn’t want to see any more of the memories Severus wanted her to see but knew that she must. She looks around, and finds herself standing before a smoldering building, Severus choking on a sob at her side.

Craning her neck once more, she realizes she stood before the remains of her old apartment in Hogsmeade. Bram comes running from the shadows, rubs his head against Severus’ leg, then bites him hard on the hand when he tried to pick him up before running off into the darkness.

“Watch out for the cat, will you?” Severus asks Madam Rosmerta as she pours him a mug of coffee. “Just until I can get her back. I’ll pay you. Its name is Bram.”

Severus sits at his desk in his old office, writing feverishly on a scroll of parchment, she looks over his shoulder to find him writing to St. Mungo’s, asking for an internship for her. He had told her that it was Dumbledore who had written on her behalf.

Next, he writes to Madam Rosmerta, about her once more. He asks her to find her a place to live, tells her that he will pay the rent in advance. She had been under the impression that the Ministry had funded her home, due to her being an orphan. She feels stupid, naive, foolish, and lost. Everything that she thought she knew, all of it was a lie.

Finally, she stands before Sirius Black and Remus Lupin in the Black kitchen, the day she thought she had met her father for the first time.

“Snivellus. How goo—”

“Don’t call him that!” She snaps at Sirius, behind her, Severus seems shocked. For a moment, his jaw relaxes, and he releases his clenched fists.

Danu stands between Severus and Dumbledore, each of their eyes clouded with despair.

“Severus. Please.” Dumbledore pleads as Severus lifts his wand.

“Avada Kedavra.” Severus’ voice cracks.

“NO!” Danu shouts as her hands find their way to her hair.

A grey fog rolls through, leaving her standing in silence. It takes several moments to notice that she is pulling her own hair, her mouth still hangs open. No further memories flash before her. Danu stands there, her mind whirling, her heart aching with emotion. Finally, she stands and is sucked back into the real world, panting, and clutching her chest before she sprints from the office, vomits over the balcony, and runs up the steep stairs to retrieve her wand. As confused as she is about Severus, she refuses to let him die alone.

—

Danu throws every spell she knows at the office door, yet it still does not budge. She becomes angry and impatient as the castle grumbles and shouts come from the still opened door.

“HOW DO I GET OUT OF HERE!” Danu shouts as she turns to face the portraits.

“You should stay here.” Phineas says, his voice dull and bored.

“I need to find him!”

“What you need to do, my dear, is stay alive. You are the last remaining Black. It is up to you to carry on the bloodline.”

“I am not! There’s Narcissa, Bellatrix, and don’t they have another sister that your great-whatever disowned!” Danu spits at him.

“I thought you Ravenclaws were meant to be intelligent? Go out there, you will likely die. They say it is madness and mayhem. You know Severus would tell you the same.”

“I will not let him die alone!”

“So, you will die with him?”

“I NEED TO GO TO HIM!” Danu bellows, growing increasingly frustrated with the conversation and his lack of help.

“Come here.” A voice says from behind her. Danu turns and follows, a small round man with a red face in rose-colored robes sits before her, a soft gleam in his kind grey eyes. “Behind my portrait is a tunnel that leads to The Shrieking Shack, Albus created it when a student was staying there during full moons, so he could safely check on the child. However, He is in there, waiting there for Severus. It is much too dangerous. This tunnel leads straight into the room he is in. My other portrait is in the room, I have just come from there. What you need to do, is go four portraits down, behind it is another tunnel that leads to the kitchens. Albus had quite the sweet tooth.”

“Thank you!” Danu exclaims as she lunges from the strangers portrait and towards the one he had pointed her to.

Danu pries the portrait open to reveal a long, dark passage. She lights her wand and holds it in front of her, her heart pounding with each step. All around her is the sound of destruction and violence, the ground shakes beneath her feet. Finally, at the end of the hall, is a light. Danu extinguishes her wand, dries the sweat from her hands on the front of her dress, and peaks around the corner. House elves shout and trip over one another, all filing to get out of the kitchen. Danu files in behind them, hugging the wall as she goes.

The hall is empty, but just beyond she can hear the shouting and fighting. She takes another deep breath, flexes her hands at her sides, and runs full force from the hall, up a short flight of steps, and comes out near a busted out window with a short drop. Without hesitation, she climbs into the windowsill, closes her eyes, and drops. Her feet land on the ground with a soft thump as curses fly above her head, she ducks slightly, and makes a run for it. She only needs to get around the corner, and then it is a clear shot to the Womping Willow.

As Danu rounds the corner, she is hit full force by a disarming charm thrown from somewhere across from her and is knocked down to the ground, her wand just out of reach. She tries scrambling to her feet, desperate to reach Severus in time, before she is able to fully stand, a black shoe cuts through the darkness and kicks her wand towards her. As she looks up she meets the face of a terrified Draco Malfoy. Danu grips her wand, but before she can begin take up her chase once more, his hand captures her wrist and begins pulling.

“NO!” Danu shouts. “I have to find Severus!”

“He told me to keep you safe!” Draco objects, his usual slicked back hair spilling forward onto his forehead.

“No, I need to go to him! I need to save him!” Danu pleads just as a red stream of light comes barreling towards them.

“PROTEGO!” They both shout at the same time, shielding one another from the blast. They both duck and run towards the Womping Willow as the fighting from the side of the castle she had just been on spills over onto the side where they stood.

“Go!” Danu shouts at Draco as they near the tree. “Go. Severus is in there; I can’t let him die. Please, just go!”

Draco stands there in confusion for a moment before clenching his jaw before releasing her wrist and running back towards the castle. Danu crouches down, presses the knot on the tree, and sits down on her bottom to scoot her way down to keep from sliding and making too much noise. The Dark Lord was down there, with her husband. Either He kills them both, or they convince Him to let them walk. The later highly unlikely.

Her heart pounds in her chest as she makes it to the end of the darkened corridor, her foot hits something soft in the darkness. Through the cracks in something that had been placed at the end of the corridor, she can see soft blue glow of moonlight.

“My Lord!” Severus’ voice cuts the silence as her heart stops beating in her chest.

For a split second she contemplates pushing the barricade out of the way, but as soon as her hands make contact with the wood, a hand appears from nowhere and grips her ankle firmly. Danu covers her hand with her mouth to stifle a gasp as a head of a girl appears, their finger pressed to their mouth. The girl flicks something invisible back, her shoulder and arm appearing from nowhere, and pulls her down next to her tight against the wall. She crouches down next to the girls now visible body. Next to the girl sits Harry Potter and another boy she did not know. The three of them shake and breathe heavily as Danu turns her attention back to Severus.

“It cannot be any other way. I must master the wand, Severus. Master the wand, and I master Potter at last.” The Dark Lord says coldly.

A scream sticks in the back of Danu’s throat as she watches a cage fall from the sky and on to Severus’ head, trapping him inside. Hands hold her back, pin her against the wall. Another clamps down over her mouth as she struggles silently against the strangers holding her back, keeping her from the man she loves as he screams on the ground. Time stands still, Severus’ scream replaying over and over again in her head as the barricade slowly lifts from the door and Harry Potter slinks through a small gap. Danu frees herself from the grip and follows the boy through the small gap beneath the barricade.

Severus lies jerking and gurgling on the floor as she places her hand over his to staunch the flow of blood.

“Take…..it…….take……it.” Severus says to Harry Potter as a blue wisp escapes his lips.

Severus’ hands are ice cold, his face drained of all color as she looks down at him, not knowing what to do. She was frozen, staring down into his face as he struggled to breathe, struggled to hold on. Severus was wrong, she would not have made a phenomenal addition to St. Mungo’s.

He turns his head to her, his black eyes glazed over as tears fall from her face. Her hands are hot and sticky with his blood as she grips his hand tightly in her own. She looks down at them, the gleam of his wedding band on her thumb catching her attention. Danu removes it from her thumb, and wish shaking hands, slips it back over his ring finger before bringing his hand to her lips and kissing it, not caring that it was covered in his blood. Her hands go back to his neck where his pulse beats slow and irregularly against her fingers.

Foolishly, she remembers the vial around her neck. The anti-venom that he had told her not to remove. Danu looks up, all eyes were glue to her as she tries desperately to pop the cork with her slick, blood-soaked fingers. Potter reaches across Severus to help her, his hands shake just as much as hers as they finally manage to uncork the vial and working together, pour the vial down Severus’ throat. He groans deeply, his entire body trembling.

“I…I….love…you.” Severus manages to get out between groans.

The pulse beating beneath her fingers becomes slower as she throws herself across his chest.

“Don’t leave me, Severus. Please don’t leave me.” Danu begs as his blood soaks through her dress.

“Harry,” Danu hears the girl ask as she presses herself protectively across Severus’ chest. “Who is that?”

“I don’t know.” Harry replies.

“I’m his wife.” Danu replies, the vibration of her voice causing another groan to escape Severus’ throat.

“You have fought valiantly,” A voice hisses in the air, whether in her head or in the wind, she could not be sure. Danu buries her head in Severus’ chest, feeling his heart thump slowly against her cheek. “Lord Voldemort knows how to value bravery. Yet you have sustained heavy losses. If you continue to resist me, you will all die one by one. I do not wish this to happen. Every drop of magic blood is a loss and a waste. Lord Voldemort is merciful. I command my forces to retreat immediately. You have one hour to dispose of your dead with dignity, treat your injured. I speak now to Harry Potter, directly to you. You have allowed your friends to die for you rather than face me yourself. I shall wait for one hour in the Forbidden Forest.”

Danu drowns the rest of the speech of the best she can, forcing her entire focus on her husband’s slowing heart. Her hand remains pressed into his neck to staunch the flow of blood, to ensure he still has a pulse. A hand grabs her wrist, attempting to pull her away. Danu jerks her hand from theirs, pressing it further into Severus’ throat.

“We have to go.” The girls gentle voice says from behind her.

“No. I’m not leaving him. You go, I’ll be fine.”

Danu hears the others leave slowly, pausing only a moment to look down at her protecting her husband’s lifeless body, then leaving without a word. Danu stands slowly, careful to keep her hand covering Severus’ throat. She uses the other to rip a strip of cloth from the bottom of her dress, presses it against his throat, and pries the portrait on hanging on the wall above them open.

Carefully, she lifts Severus from the ground with her wand, and cradles his head in her arms as she climbs through the hole and walks backwards to support him.

The light on the other end blinds her momentarily as she climbs through the portrait hole and into the Headmaster’s Office. Glancing around, she finds Phineas to be the only portrait remaining in their frames in the office.

“Alive?” Phineas asks as he peers down at Severus’ blood-soaked body.

“Yes.” Danu breathes as she lies her husband on the floor and sprints up the small staircase to the small library above.

She finds a small pillow, a throw blanket, and a decorative basin on one of the side tables, she tosses each into a cardboard box of Blood-Replenishing Potion and runs back down the stairs to where she had left Severus. She folds the blanket and places it beneath his head, the pillow beneath his feet. Using her wand to fill the basin with water, she removes the ripped strip of cloth from his neck and begins to attempt to clean some of the blood from his skin. It was simply too much to clean at the moment, so she abandons the job and opts to slowly feed him potions instead. He gurgles and sputters, his breath coming out deep and harsh. He was breathing though, and that was all she cared about at the moment.

“Is he alive?” Someone asks over her shoulder.

Danu jerks and whips her head around. Behind her stands Harry Potter, his hands stained with dried blood. Her husband’s blood.

“Yes.” Danu breathes as her heart begins to calm in her chest.

“I’m sorry. I came to—” Harry cuts off and shakes the vial in his hand that he had used to capture the silvery-blue substance that spilled from Severus’ mouth in the Shrieking Shack. Danu nobs her head sharply as he makes his way to the pensive.

Danu covers Severus’ body with her own once more, her head resting on his chest. She closes her eyes, counting each of Severus’ heart beats in her head as she grips his hand tightly in hers.

She couldn’t be sure how much time had passed, but a sound behind her catches her attention. She opens one eye to find Harry Potter lying on the floor before the pensive. His chest heaving, his fists clenched at his sides. She closes her eye and leaves him be, she only cared about Severus at this moment.

“If he…” Harry begins, his voice catching slightly. “Just—tell him I said thank you.” Danu peaks her eye open once more to catch sight of Harry leaving the office. He closes the door gently behind him.

Severus moans, his fingers jerking slightly in her hand that grips his.

“Please, don’t go. We didn’t get enough time. I can’t do this without you, Severus.”

—

Danu lies across Severus’ chest, not daring to leave his side. Footsteps sound behind her, but she does not care. She buries her head further in to Severus’ neck, his breathing deep and labored, his heartbeat had become more stable, his pulse slightly stronger. A hand touches her shoulder gently, she jerks it off.

“We’ve come to take him.” A woman says firmly.

“No!” Danu objects, wrapping her arms tightly around him.

Someone crouches before her; she opens one eye to find the solemn face of Harry Potter before her. She softens her hold on Severus slightly but does not move.

“They will take him to St. Mungo’s.” Harry says, his eyes are kind, his voice low.

“I’m not leaving him.” Danu whimpers, a tear slowly rolling down her face.

“You can go with him.” Harry assures her as he takes her hand in his and pulls her from the floor.

Before her stands the boy and girl from inside of the Shrieking Shack, McGonagall, and several more faces she did not recognize. Danu looks down at Severus. His black eyes had opened just a bit, whether it be from the presence of others, or perhaps they had never fully closed she was not sure. His skin shockingly white and covered in blood of varying stages of dryness. His fingers jerk as they lay palm up on the floor as if searching for something. She watches as two men lift him from the floor on to a white stretcher and parade him from the room. Harry looks down at her, still clutching her hand in his, and the two follow.

“You’re my cousin.” Harry says as they cross through the portrait hall outside of the Headmaster’s Office.

“Yeah.” Danu whispers back to him, a lump in her throat.

Footsteps follow closely behind them as they walk hand in hand past the destruction and out of the castle.