Desperate MeasuresChapter 4By KalinaSnape paused outside of the closed door and listened for a moment to the muffled sound of Hermione Granger’s voice as she gave her lesson in foolish wand waving. He could not see in, so he didn’t know whether or not she had the baby with her. Usually she did. In fact, he hadn’t seen one without the other since the baby had been left at Hogwarts, except for the moments in staff meetings and at the High Table when the child was passed from one spinster colleague to the next. Recently, Granger had even taken to wearing the child, as if she were some native in a rice field. And he had been reduced to skulking in hallways, hoping for a private glimpse of his son. His son. It still didn’t seem possible, no matter how many obscure curses Albus dreamed up to account for it. He had been presented with a certain amount of physical evidence, most notably his child’s name on the Hogwarts list and the detailed test results from St. Mungo’s. He had been forced to accept that he and Diana had had a child and that the child eternally attached to Hermione Granger was somehow also his. But that the two were one and the same…well, that was the part that was giving him the most difficulty. The only evidence he could find to support such an outlandish claim was that only one child of Severus Snape had ever appeared on the Hogwarts list. He simply refused to believe that he could sire a Squib. He knocked softly at the door to Granger’s office. It was opened by that house-elf...Blinky or Stinky or something along those lines. He looked past her into the room and saw the baby wriggling slightly in his basket. "I wish to see the child," he commanded, in a tone that said he would brook no argument. "Yes, sir," Winky said, scurrying deferentially out of the way. "Baby is just waking up." He stalked over to the basket and looked down at the small creature within. It did have the Snapecolouring, as Granger had noted that first day, but other than that it bore little resemblance to any Snape he’d ever known. He searched the sleeping child’s features for signs of Diana. He thought he might have seen something - something in the shape of the face - but that might just have been because he was looking for it. He had to admit that the baby was a great deal more attractive than he remembered it. Of course, it wasn’t screaming relentlessly at the moment, but even aside from that, it looked better. Rounder, softer, healthier. He couldn’t put a finger on it exactly, but it did seem that Granger was taking good care of the child. The wriggling grew more pronounced, and the baby screwed up his face and let out a warning mewl. "Baby is needing picking up," Winky offered, but she didn’t move to do it herself, and Snape felt a jolt of panic. He’d never held a baby before and rarely even seen one so young, but he was damned if he'd admit that to a house-elf. Hesitantly, he reached into the basket and tried to figure out where to get the best purchase. He knew enough to know that the head needed support, so he slipped his left hand under the baby’s neck and his right hand under the middle parts before lifting straight up. He held the child out in front of him in midair, knowing on some intellectual level that he should pull it closer but resisting with every instinct anything that might be construed as "cuddling." The wriggling became slightly more pronounced and the initial fussy sounds grew into a full-fledged cry as the child flung his arms wide. This wasn’t going well at all, and he turned to hand the child to the house-elf just as Hermione appeared in the doorway. Her shock at the sight of him was obvious, and he found it both embarrassing and insulting, particularly when she hurried over and plucked the child from his hands. The baby calmed immediately in her arms, and that infuriated him even more. "Can I help you with something, Professor Snape?" "No," he said. "I just stopped in for a moment to…I have a class in five minutes. I need to be going." "Oh." She looked slightly confused. "I need to feed him now, but if you’d like to come back later…?" "No, thank you, Professor Granger." He turned to make his way toward the door. "All right…er, did Professor Dumbledore say anything to you about choosing a name?" she ventured, stopping him. "He did," Snape answered coldly. "Well, I was just wondering…that is, if you don’t want to choose one for some reason, I’d be happy to…" "I don’t know how the Muggles handle such things, Professor Granger, but in wizarding families it is not customary for the wet nurse to name the children." He was gratified by her swift gasp of outrage and by the sight of the Elf trembling in the corner with her hands over her head. He swept to the door, pausing just at the threshold. "His name is Marcus Curtius Snape."
§ §§§ Snape paced Dumbledore’s office, making such an energetic circuit of the room that several of the dozing Headmasters awakened in their portraits with a start and looked at him reproachfully. "Calm yourself, Severus," the living Headmaster said. "It's not yet time for him to arrive." He cast a glare at Dumbledore and then hurled himself into a chair, crossing his arms sulkily. "I don't think you appreciate..." "I do, actually," Dumbledore answered mildly. "You have every right to be disturbed by all of this. But remaining ignorant of the truth is not the answer." Snape huffed slightly but made no comment. "Hermione told me you had named the child," Albus said. "Your grandfather's name, wasn’t it?" "Yes." "A fine choice. A hero's name, and from all accounts, your grandfather was also a great man." "She's calling him 'Curt.'" Snape replied, in a voice that left no doubt as to his opinion of diminutives. "Marcus Curtius is rather a mouthful for such a small boy. Would you have preferred Marcus?" "Does it matter?" Dumbledore sighed. "Hermione is doing the child a great service, Severus. His future abilities may depend on her. Would you deny him that over a nickname?" "Have I?" "No, and it's to your credit." A soft scratching at the door heralded their visitor. Snape jumped up at the sound, and Dumbledore immediately crossed to open the door. "Good afternoon," he said kindly. "It's Moxy, isn't it?" The diminutive house-elf shuffled in cautiously, twisting his hands in the fabric of the pillowcase that draped his body and staring, goggle-eyed, at the office and its inhabitants. "Yes, Headmaster Dumbledore sir," he stammered. A glance at Snape made him squeak and stare quickly at the floor. "Please don't be frightened," Dumbledore said gently. "We merely wanted to ask you a question." The house-elf trembled even harder at this and kept his eyes trained on his feet. "Moxy, we need to know if you visited Hogwarts recently and left something in the dungeons for Professor Snape. Was that you?" More trembling. "Answer him, damn you!" Snape hissed, advancing on the elf menacingly. "Severus!" "Yes sir...Moxy is the one," the elf squeaked, backing away from Snape. "Moxy didn't know what else to do. Blitsy is gone, and Master...and my Mistress will be gone soon, too, and the house will be sold and Moxy would no longer be able to watch over Miss Diana's baby." Snape sucked in his breath at the sound of Diana's name. The rest of it meant little to him. All he heard was Miss Diana's baby. For a moment he wasn't sure he could continue to stand. "The child was Diana Fletcher's then?" Dumbledore asked gently. The house-elf nodded and reached up to give his ear a violent twist. "Am I right in supposing that Diana cast a spell on the baby - a spell which put him in a sleep?" Moxy nodded again. "Miss Diana told Moxy and Blitsy how to use our magic to wake him up if it ever became necessary." "Why did she do it, Moxy?" Dumbledore asked. "Why would she put such a spell on her own child?" The Elf's eyes filled with tears then and he backed as far from Snape as it was possible for him to go. "It was Mr. Severus, sir. Mr. Severus told Miss Diana that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named expected all of his servants' children to serve him one day. Miss Diana was protecting Baby, sir. Protecting Baby from You-Know-Who. But now that You-Know-Who is gone..." "Yes. Thank you Moxy. I think we understand now." "Headmaster Dumbledore, sir?" Moxy asked. "Yes?" "Is Baby all right here at Hogwarts?" He cast a nervous glance at Snape and flattened himself against the wall. "He is fine, Moxy. He is being well cared for." Dumbledore glanced at Snape, who nodded and spoke in a slightly strangled voice. "I will see to it." § §§§
He entered his rooms and settled in front of his fire, remembering back to
that Christmas holiday and the conversation that ultimately destroyed his
life. § §§§ "Severus? Come downstairs! Your father’s home." Severus tossed down his quill and rolled from his bed. SeptimusSnape’s work for Lord Voldemort had been keeping him away from home more and more, and he’d been away ever since Severus had gotten home from Hogwarts for the Christmas holiday. Severus was in the middle of writing Diana, but even that could wait. He wouldn't admit it, of course, but he actually missed his parents when he was away at school, and he had been looking forward to seeing his father. "Hi Dad," he called from the top of the stairs, seeing his father's dark cloak in the foyer below. "Hello, Severus." His father smiled at him as he descended, taking the stairs rather faster than his mother preferred. When he reached the first floor, his father reached an arm around Severus’s thin shoulders, giving them a quick squeeze. "You’re looking well. I do believe you’ve grown another inch this term. Keep it up and you’ll be looking down on your old father." Severus smirked. "I already do." "I wasn’t speaking metaphorically," his father said dryly, making them all laugh. He took off his cloak and handed it to a waiting Elf before turning to his wife. "Olivia, do Severus and I have time for a visit before dinner?" "Of course. A half-hour at least, and if you need more than that, I’ll have Alfy hold it for you. Should I have her bring you a drink?" "No, thank you. Severus?" Severus looked at his father in surprise that bordered on alarm. He couldn’t remember the last time his father had sought a private audience with him, and the offer of the drink gave the event an uncomfortably formal, adult feeling. He couldn’t imagine what he was being summoned to discuss, but every instinct was telling him that if the conversation couldn’t take place at the dinner table, he probably wasn’t going to like it. "No, thank you," Severus said slowly. "Er…have I done something wrong?" "No. Not that I know of, anyway," his father said with mock sternness. "Is there anything you need to confess?" He had a sudden mental image of Diana, naked and moving beneath him, and his heart hammered unpleasantly as he forced himself to meet his father’s dark gaze. "Of…course not," he said, as naturally as his constricted throat would allow. He didn’t actually know if his father would care. It was entirely possible that Septimus would merely chuckle and caution him not to get caught. Although he insisted that his son receive high marks, he cared little about rule breaking and tended to wink and take a "boys will be boys" attitude toward the few of his son’s infractions he had found out about. From his earliest days, Severus had known that in his father’s eyes, getting caught was always the greater sin. He followed his father into the small library, a rather exalted name for the room that served as his father’s home office and private escape. There were books there, certainly, but the offerings were paltry compared to what could be found in the libraries of some of his friends. Mostly, his father used the room as a place to read the Daily Prophet in peace and quiet or, lately, to meet privately with other members of Lord Voldemort’s inner circle. Lord Voldemort, when he visited, was received in the more formal areas of the house. His father settled into his favourite armchair and stoked the fire with a wave of his wand. Severus perched in the chair opposite, surreptitiously drying his palms on his trousers as he waited for his father to say something…to give him some hint of what they were there to discuss. "Your mother tells me you have a new girlfriend." It was the sex. Bugger! It was the sex… "Yes, sir," he answered somewhat indistinctly, before clearing his throat. His father gave him an indulgent smile. "So tell me about her. Donna, is it?" "Diana," he corrected. "Diana Fletcher." "Ah, that’s right. Fletcher…What’s her father’s name?" "Augustus." "Right. I know the family now," Septimus said. "Her grandfather was one of the first Unspeakables." "I…didn’t know that." He and Diana hadn’t spent much time discussing their respective family trees. He knew that she was an only child, just as he was, and that her father was with the Ministry, but mostly they talked of school and common interests. He knew that the day would come when he would have to meet her family and she his, but that day seemed safely distant. Things like family names - and bloodlines - mattered a great deal to Septimus Snape, however, and his son began to relax a bit. Diana’s blood was every bit as pure as the Snapes’. He had nothing to fear in that quarter. "Mmm hmm," his father said, nodding. "He died fighting Grindelwald." Septimus paused for a moment, but Severus couldn’t think of a thing to say. He had learned over the years that when one was feeling cornered, saying nothing was the best way to avoid self-incrimination. He simply watched his father as the elder Snape stared into space for a moment, apparently lost in some thought. "So," Septimus said, his attention returning to his son, "is it serious between you and this girl?" "What do you mean, exactly?" Severus asked carefully. His father pinned him with black eyes, so like his own, and arched one aristocratic brow. "Serious," he repeated, as if he were talking to a simpleton. "You’re nearly 18 now, and you’ll be finishing Hogwarts in a few months. What are your plans, Severus? Is this girl a part of them?" "I’m…I’m not sure, exactly. I mean, we haven’t actually talked about anything…official, but I hadn’t planned on just chucking her when I finished school either." "So what had you planned on doing?" Severus relaxed a bit more. This was just the ‘future plans’ conversation. Fortunately, he’d actually made some, during the course of one of his long conversations with Diana. "I think I’d like to apprentice to a Potions Master," he said confidently. "Potions has always been one of my favourite subjects, you know, and I think I’d do rather well at it." He didn’t add that Diana wanted to be a mediwitch and that they had thoughts of working together one day. It was true that they hadn’t talked about anything "official," but since the first time they had made love, he had been unable to imagine a future without her in it. Without even realizing it consciously, he had begun tailoring his plans to hers. His father nodded. "I’m sure you would. However…" He paused briefly, and Severus saw what could only be a look of regret passing over his father’s angular face. It was there and gone in an instant, and that was unsurprising since Septimus had always said that regret was one of the most useless of all human emotions. The only thing surprising, in fact, was that Severus had seen such a look on his father’s face at all. "I’m afraid that you won’t be able to do that," his father said finally. "Lord Voldemort is beginning to encounter increased resistance. There have always been those who thought to deny him his due place in our world, but up until recently these misguided fools have been scattered - disorganized and easily defeated. Lately we’ve learned that they’re organizing themselves - I think that lunatic Headmaster of yours may be the one behind it. Why I let your mother talk me out of sending you to Durmstrang…" he grumbled. "Well, it’s too late to worry about that now, but what I do know is that this resistance can and will be overcome, but to do so, his Lordship needs intelligent young men like yourself in his ranks." "But…I hadn’t planned on…" "I know you hadn’t," his father said firmly. "It doesn’t change the facts. Lord Voldemort will be calling you to him as soon as you’ve finished Hogwarts." Severus nodded slowly and worked up his nerve. "And what if I said ‘no’?" His father’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Said ‘no’?" he repeated incredulously. "To Lord Voldemort? Are you telling me you don’t support his plans for our world?" Severus shrugged. The truth was that he hadn’t spent a lot of time thinking about it. If anyone had asked him - his Housemates, for instance - he would have automatically replied that he was a supporter of Voldemort. He knew that his parents believed in the cause fervently, and he had been taught from the cradle that Muggles and Mudbloods were inferior - no, worse than that - that they were completely worthless. Voldemort sought to purify their world, and what could be wrong with that? It was disgusting, really, that he was forced to attend school with the likes of that Mudblood Lily Evans, whom everyone made such a ridiculous fuss over. Worse still, he had been forced to remain silent about the fact that Albus Dumbledore had welcomed a werewolf into their midst, a werewolf who continued to be sheltered and protected despite the fact that he had nearly killed Severus the previous year. That whole revolting group of Gryffindors was living, breathing proof that the Dark Lord had the right idea. And yet… Agreeing with Voldemort’s ideas and actually being one of the ones to implement them were two different things. He had been aware for some time, in a distant, intellectual kind of way, that he would be expected to serve Voldemort one day, but he had rather hoped that by the time that day came, Voldemort’s dominion over the wizarding world would be complete and he could just slide into a comfortable place by virtue of his family name and his father’s loyal service. Instead, his father was talking of enrolling him in something that sounded like it could become rather nasty before it was all resolved. He was young, but he was not quite so naïve that he thought the likes of Albus Dumbledore would bow down to Lord Voldemort without a fight. He didn’t like Dumbledore - how could he, the Mudblood-loving old fool? - but he had a healthy respect for the man’s power. If Dumbledore was organizing the Resistance, it could be some time before Voldemort took his rightful place in the world. "I asked you a question," his father said sharply. "Of course I support Lord Voldemort," Severus said. "I just didn’t realize that supporting him meant that I wouldn’t get to make my own decisions about my life." "In your case, that’s exactly what it means, though I should hope that you would make the right choice in this regardless. I’m a member of Lord Voldemort’s inner circle, and because of that, he has higher expectations of you. He has spoken to me personally on the subject and made his expectations very clear. You will take the Mark when he calls you, and you will do so without reservation or put us all at great risk." Septimus’s eyes lingered meaningfully on the door, and Severus understood that even his mother would be in danger if he failed to answer Voldemort’s summons. He felt queasy at the thought and more than a little angry at his father. Surely, at nearly 18, he had the right to make these sorts of decisions for himself? "Lord Voldemort can sense wavering loyalties, Severus, and he deals with such things most seriously," Septimus said softly. "But he is unfailingly generous to those who serve him faithfully. I would not have committed us all to his cause if I had not believed in him with all that I am. Whatever resistance Dumbledore has put together will fail in the end, and Lord Voldemort will triumph, with Septimus and Severus Snape at his right hand." "Yes, sir," Severus said obediently, though his stomach was still churning. "I understand." "I knew you would." His father smiled. "Now tell me some more about this girlfriend of yours." Somehow he had gotten through the rest of that conversation, which lasted until his mother called them in for dinner. He ate his dinner in silence as his parents talked, and afterwards he excused himself and returned to his room and his letter. Had to leave you there for a bit. My father got home, and since he’s been working for Lord Voldemort, he’s been away a lot. This was the first I’d seen him since the hols began. He asked about you first thing and wanted to know all about you. I told him you were Augustus Fletcher’s daughter, that you wanted to be a mediwitch one day, and that you were truly magnificent in bed. He and Mum both want to meet you, which I’m sure will be tedious for you and pleasurable for them. We also had the "plans-for-the-future conversation." Probably every other seventh-year is having that one lately too. Apparently I don’t have as much say in what I’m doing after Hogwarts as I thought. I’m not entirely sure how I feel about that just yet, but it looks like I won’t be doing potions - at least not for a while. Maybe someday though. Anyway, I’ll tell you more about it when we get back to Hogwarts. I don’t feel like thinking about it anymore right now. I got your owl with my Christmas present this afternoon. It was certainly heavy enough. Your owl was completely knackered and has been sleeping it off ever since he got here; I’m afraid he’ll not take it well when I have to wake him up. I’m sending your gift with this letter, but it’s light, so hopefully he’ll be able to make the trip without keeling over. Incidentally, it’s charmed to explode if you try to open it before Christmas, so I’d be patient if I were you. Mediwitches really do need the use of all their fingers to be successful in their field. Anyway, I hope you like it - wish we could open our presents together. Your owl is stirring, so I’ll go ahead and end this now. I’m sure it’s obvious that I miss you. Never dreamed I could be this anxious to get back to school. Happy Christmas… Love, Severus It was only a day later that he received a brief reply. He hadn’t really expected to hear from her again before Christmas, and his mother laughed and winked at him when the large brown owl tapped at the kitchen window whilst the family was at breakfast on Christmas Eve. "Just can’t go a day without being in touch," his mother teased. "How sweet." Severus scowled at her and opened the door to let the owl in without answering. "You know," his mother went on, "it’s perfectly all right if you want to use the Floo to talk to your young lady sometimes. That poor owl would certainly appreciate it." Severus didn’t bother pointing out that the only Floo in the house was in the central living area and hardly conducive to privacy. Far better that the owl exhaust himself, in Severus’s opinion. He removed the roll of parchment from the owl’s leg and tucked it in the pocket of his trousers before reaching into a canister for an owl treat. "Aren’t you going to read it?" his father asked. He appeared to be having a difficult time keeping a straight face. "I think I’ll…go upstairs," Severus answered, edging toward the door. His father didn’t bother to hide his snort of laughter. "How sweet," he heard his mother murmur as he made his escape. He loved his mother, but if he’d been allowed to use magic on the breaks and thus had had his wand at hand, he’d have hexed her then without the slightest reservation. "Sweet," he repeated, sneering the word in utter revulsion. He took the stairs two at a time and locked the door of his room before pulling out Diana’s note. He was puzzled when he saw how short it was; it hardly seemed worth putting the owl to the trouble of the trip. He didn’t feel the first stirrings of concern until he reached the second paragraph. Dear Severus, I wanted you to know that my gift arrived safely. Eli didn’t even seem terribly worn out by the return trip. You must have taken good care of him while he was there. And no, I won’t open it before Christmas, but you’d better have been teasing about that charm! You’d really better have been teasing about what you told your Dad. Your sense of humour is really quite twisted at times, and I’m not entirely sure what you’re capable of. You’ll probably take that as a compliment, but don’t let it inspire you to greater heights of mischief. Or depths, as the case may be. I didn’t realize that your father worked for Lord Voldemort. You’ve never mentioned it. I certainly hope that whatever plans he has for your future don’t involve that horrible man. My Uncle Almerick is here for Christmas, and he and my Dad were saying just the other day that Voldemort is becoming a tremendous concern for the Ministry. They believe he might have even been behind that explosion at St. Mungo’s recently. Can you imagine someone doing such a thing? It’s probably better that we talk about this in person, but I was concerned when you didn’t give any more details. If you could set my mind at ease by telling me that your Dad has in mind a career in the Department of Magical Transportation or something equally dull, I would really appreciate it. Happy Christmas! I love you! Diana With the reading of Diana’s letter, the uneasy feeling that had come over him during the conversation with his father matured into something much more certain. Severus realized that while he and Diana had been busy finding every secluded nook afforded by Hogwarts Castle, something of significance had been happening just beyond the school’s gates. And as it had happened, the students who populated that ancient institution of magical learning had gone about their usual business safe within her thick stone walls. They had battled for Quidditch victories and House points and had learned more and more advanced magic whilst something had begun stirring just beneath the placid surface of the wizarding world. It wasn’t turmoil - yet. There was nothing so calamitous that it generated giant headlines or caused riots in the streets, and without any such convenient signposts, it was easy for the students to miss the fact that their parents’ generation was quietly choosing sides for a battle that would tear their world apart. Most of Severus’s Housemates had heard of Lord Voldemort; enough of theSlytherin fathers were working for him that his name came up with fair frequency in the Common Room. But Severus was willing to wager that there were plenty of students in other Houses who had never even heard Voldemort’s name. It had certainly never occurred to him to discuss Voldemort with Diana. She was a pure-blooded witch of enormous intelligence, and if he’d thought about it at all, he would have assumed that she would agree with Voldemort’s plans for purification and reorganization of Magical Britain. The fundamental beliefs behind those plans had been instilled in him from his earliest days, and it had never occurred to him to question them. Muggles Don’t Matter and There’s No Such Thing as Dark Magic had coexisted peacefully with Snapes Don’t Get Caught and Never Give a House Elf Your Laundry and a thousand other tenets that joined together to make up his life’s structure. Of course, he’d learned once he got to Hogwarts that there were others who didn’t agree with those tenets. He’d seen quickly that Dumbledore shined his benevolence on Mudbloods, Halfbloods, and Purebloods alike, often seeming to actually favour the Mudbloods. The very fact that Severus was being taught "Defence Against the Dark Arts" was proof that the Hogwarts Board of Governors were of the opinion that power and its various uses could be neatly classified as "good" or "bad." But his House was peopled with like-minded souls who had been taught as he had: There is no such thing as Dark Magic. There is only magic, and power, and people who aren’t afraid to use it. Amongst the Slytherins he felt at home, safe within the moral and social structure his parents had created for him, but he hadn’t found a girl in Slytherin House. When he had finally found a girl, one who loved him in spite of his sharp tongue and the nose he had little chance now of growing into, he had become so caught up in the novelty of first love and the fierce pull of young passion that it hadn’t occurred to him to find out if they shared the same fundamental beliefs. With her letter in his hand, he realized for the first time that they probably didn’t. It brought about a distinctly odd feeling. A few days before, he’d believed wholeheartedly that he and Diana were perfect for one another; now, thanks to one uncomfortable conversation and one short letter, he sensed a gap forming between them. Was it possible for something perfect to fall apart so fast, or had it - perhaps - never been perfect at all? § §§§ He wrote her back, a brief letter that declined to discuss Voldemort or his future plans until they were back at Hogwarts. He didn’t hear from her again, and he wasn’t terribly surprised. Diana was certainly bright enough to read between the lines. He saw her in the Great Hall their first evening back, when everyone was shouting greetings from table to table, enquiring about gifts and trips and holiday treats. She looked the same in every particular - the quantity of brown hair that fell nearly to her waist, the hazel eyes framed by heavy glasses and the single dimple that creased her right cheek at the slightest hint of a smile. He could see it from across the room when she caught sight of him, and he smiled back, anxious for some sign that her recent silence was to do with Christmas and visiting relatives and anything, really, except Lord Voldemort’s plans for him. She raised her hand in a quick, fluttery greeting, and then the smile faded as her hand went to her mouth and she pinched her bottom lip between her thumb and forefinger. It was a gesture he knew - a gesture of nervousness, of awkwardness. It was a gesture she used when she was unsure of herself and what to say. He hadn’t seen it directed at him since that Spring day when they had first worked together in the greenhouse, transplanting seedlings. It was no use trying to have a private conversation from two separate tables amid the cacophony of the Great Hall, so he turned away from Diana and listened to his Housemates as they discussed their holidays. He was disinterested at first, but as he caught snatches of the various conversations around him, he tuned in more attentively. He realized quickly that he wasn’t the only one whose eyes had been suddenly opened to the situation outside Hogwarts’ walls. Suddenly, the name “Voldemort” seemed to be on everyone’s lips, and his logical mind supplied the obvious explanation. It was easy for parents to conceal concerns from their children when their only contact was via owl-post. It was a great deal more difficult when the “children” were nearly adults and back home for the first time in months. Additionally, he received the impression that he was not the only son whose father had sat him down for a talk. It appeared that he would be working closely with quite a few of his Housemates in future. When the meal was over, he caught Diana up just outside the Great Hall. “Have time for a walk?” he asked, nervous with her for the first time in months. “I’d like that,” she said, giving him a small smile. Diana rarely smiled broadly. She just wasn’t a girl for toothy grins or belly laughs. Instead, she smiled with that dimple and a slight crinkling around her eyes, but that was enough to reassure him – that and the fleeting contact as she reached down and briefly tangled their fingers together. He wasn’t one for face-splitting grins either, but his relief at the affectionate contact was so great that he very nearly laughed aloud. It was too cold for the Greenhouses, so he led her quickly to the Charms corridor and then down to a back passageway they’d discovered several weeks before. The passage was short and led to a dead-end - or appeared to, at any rate. Someone must have known of it, but they’d never yet found it occupied, and he locked the door behind them to ensure that any trespassers would at least announce themselves on their way in. He reached for her the minute he’d pocketed his wand, reached for her and pulled her into his arms and into a fierce kiss fuelled by separation and the tensions of the past week. She responded instantly, as she always had, and he felt his knees go weak with relief and something else as he pressed her up against the rough stone wall. He pulled away when she giggled against his mouth. “Something funny?” he asked with mock annoyance. “No…painful,” she answered, wriggling out from between him and the wall. “Is that your wand or are you just happy to see me?” “Ugh!" he groaned, rolling his eyes. "That was beneath you.” "There's another obvious line there," she pointed out, "but I'll refrain." "Please do," he said, pulling her close again, gently this time. “I hate being reminded that my girlfriend suffers from such an appalling lack of wit. But in spite of that, I am happy to see you. Thank you for the book, by the way.” "Did you like it?" He nodded. "I'm halfway through it already. Maybe we can try some of the potions together this term." "We'll have to be careful not to get caught." He looked affronted. "Snapes don't get caught." She giggled at that, and he caressed the dimple in her cheek gently with his thumb. "Thank you for this," she said, pulling a silver chain from around her neck. He was ridiculously pleased to see that she had it on. "Was it...?" he had been terribly nervous at the prospect of giving a girl jewelry, but didn't know how to ask if it was somehow out of line. She seemed to understand. "I love it," she assured him. "But Mum took one look at it and gave me the talk." "What talk is that?" "Oh, you know, the one where she told me that all blokes are after one thing..." "True enough, that," he agreed with a grin, pulling her close again and caressing her bottom suggestively. "Oh, shut up," she said, laughing. "I had to act terribly naive and virginal. It all felt quite silly." He snorted. "Well, I hope you gave a good performance. I don't want your parents after me, and you Ravenclaws aren't known for your acting ability." "Should've deflowered a Slytherin, then." "How do you know I haven't?" It was her turn to snort. "I know. And for future reference, you'd be wise not to test that 'Snapes don't get caught' business on me." "I wouldn't dream of it," he assured her. "With you, I am honesty itself." "Well, now you're just being silly - or else you think I'm an idiot. But as long as we're being honest, suppose you tell me why you never answered my last owl." He sighed, regretting the inevitable change in the tone of the conversation, but he knew that Slytherin evasion tactics were wasted Diana Fletcher. “You want to know what my father has planned for me.” “Yes.” She drew back and looked at him seriously. “It’s to do with that Voldemort, isn’t it?” Severus was instantly annoyed, and he released her and took a step backwards. “My father works for ‘that Voldemort’, Diana. Don’t you think he’s in a better position to know about him than you are?” “I don’t know your father, Severus. I have no idea about his judgment, but if he’s working for Voldemort, that’s all the more reason he might not be objective about the man. Biting the hand that feeds him and all that, you know?” “He’d have never gone to work for Lord Voldemort in the first place if he hadn’t thought that his ideas were sound. I do know my father, and I trust his judgment.” “Uncle Mun said Voldemort hates Muggle-borns. Did you know that?” “When did you become a champion of Mudbloods?” Severus asked nastily. “Look at that girl in your House…what’s her name? Daphne something. I’ve never heard you say a decent word about her. Are you telling me you don’t think Hogwarts and the rest of magical Britain would be better off without her in it?” “Daphne is a complete bitch, Severus, but I don’t think it’s because she’s Muggle-born. It’s because she’s a bitch, and there are plenty of Purebloods who suffer from the same affliction. I’d take ten Daphne’s over one Agnes Vipeman, and she’s as Pureblooded as they come.” “She’s also my cousin.” “Really?” “Well, second cousin, or third or something, but anyway, we’re related somehow on my mother’s side.” “I wouldn’t go ‘round bragging about it. That girl’s absolutely poisonous.” “Well, she is, rather,” he agreed, “but at least she knows our ways. I know how to deal with people like Agnes. These Mudbloods come in and immediately try to tell us everything we’re doing wrong; they don’t understand our ways at all, and with every one we let in our midst, we’re undermining our own collective power.” Diana stared at him. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard you say. It sounds like you read it in a pamphlet somewhere. What 'collective power'?” “Stupid?” he said coldly. “That’s awfully close to name-calling, Diana. I should have thought you were capable having a civilized discussion without resorting to that.” “I apologize,” she said, sounding genuinely contrite. “You’re right, of course. It’s just…I can’t believe you really feel that way. I mean, look at Lily Evans…she has as much natural magical talent as anyone I’ve ever seen.” “Her grades aren’t what yours are,” Severus argued. “Because she doesn’t work as hard at them. But it doesn’t mean she’s not a powerful witch. My point is, how is she undermining us by being here? Who is ‘us’ anyway? It all seems rather ridiculous to me - all this attention on bloodlines. Anyone with a bit of medical training could tell you that if it hadn’t been for a fairly regular influx of Muggle-borns down the years, we’d all be walking around with crossed eyes and so forth. Inbreeding will undermine our ‘collective power’ a whole lot faster than the Muggles ever could.” “There’s far more to Lord Voldemort than his views on Mudbloods…” “Would you please quit saying that word?” Diana snapped. “You sound so crass, and that’s not how I’m used to thinking of you at all.” “Fine,” he said through his teeth. “There’s more to Lord Voldemort than his views on your precious Muggle-borns. You have to admit that the Ministry is mucking everything up these days - all those restrictions on every little thing. Lord Voldemort wants to change all of that. I, for one, think it’s time for a change.” “You think, or your parents think?” Diana challenged. “What about you?” Severus countered. “You heard all of this from your parents, didn’t you?” “Yes,” she admitted. “I hadn’t really thought about it a lot before the hols, but that seemed to be all Dad and Uncle Mun talked about. It just seems so obvious, though, that this Voldemort is up to no good. I can’t stand the thought of you working for him. I take it that is what your Dad has in mind?” “Yes.” “Well, you can get out of it, can’t you?” “It’s…complicated,” Severus hedged. “Please, Severus,” she begged. “Promise me you’ll think about it.” Well, that was a simple promise - particularly for a Slytherin. He doubted that he’d think of much else, actually. Diana didn’t need to know that all the thinking in the world wouldn’t change the fact that he had been promised to Voldemort, and promises to Voldemort were kept. “I’ll think about it.” “Thank you!” She rushed at him and hurled herself into his arms, obviously feeling that she had won the round. Severus, for his part, hoped that she would let the subject go for a while. He loved her and she loved him, and she would surely continue to love him if he presented himself to her with the Mark already on his arm. She would have to accept the situation then, and gradually she would even see that he had made the right choice. So, each secure in the knowledge that the other’s opinion could be changed before any firm commitment need be made, they tacitly ‘agreed to disagree’ after their row in the Charms corridor and attempted to pick up where they had left off before Christmas. Try as they might, however, they were unable to go back to the unspoiled pleasures of the previous Autumn; there was a tension between them - and, indeed, throughout the entire castle - that cast a pall over the winter of their seventh year. It was as if the oppressive gloom of an approaching storm settled over them all, making everyone edgy and increasingly fractious as winter reluctantly conceded ground to spring. Normally, that was the time of year when the students tried the patience of their elders by indulging in fits of high spirits - particularly seventh-year students, who had considerably less to lose than those who would be returning to Hogwarts the following year. That year, however, the students seemed to be collectively aware that there was something significant waiting for them just beyond the N.E.W.T.’s, and they plodded doggedly toward that goal, anxious to get on with it - whatever ‘it’ might be. Severus and Diana were no different, but the anxiety remained mostly unspoken between them until Severus returned from the spring holidays with an elaborate black mark on his left forearm. Given their degree of intimacy, there was no point in trying to hide it from her, and he didn’t bother. He hadn’t known he would take the Mark so soon; he had been expecting it sometime after the N.E.W.T.’s. However, his father said that the pressures of the Resistance were such that Voldemort couldn’t wait, couldn’t risk having his young recruits dissuaded during their last few weeks under Dumbledore’s influence. He and a number of his Housemates belonged to Voldemort now, even more than they had before. It had been a confusing and intense experience, his first few days in Voldemort’s service, but he returned to Hogwarts more certain than ever that he had done the right thing. As he rolled up his sleeve to show Diana the Mark, he was confident that he would be able to make her see that. He was encouraged by her initial response, which seemed more curiosity and mild exasperation than anything else. She reached out to trace the dark outline of the skull with a hissing snake issuing from it’s mouth. “Well,” she said. “That’s simply hideous. What on earth possessed you?” He almost said, “Voldemort,” but decided that approach was probably too blunt. Instead he said, “My father has one like it.” “Oh.” She looked at it some more, wrinkling her nose. “It’s just…well, it’s rather horrid, I’m afraid. I suppose the snake is something to do with Slytherin?” “I believe so, yes.” He took a deep breath, summoning his nerve. “It’s the mark of Voldemort. A magical mark he gives all his followers.” She drew back her hand as if the snake might strike it and took a quick step back, away from him. “You didn’t…” she whispered. “Obviously, I did,” he said, tense. “I had to, Diana. You don’t understand…my father, Voldemort…it was just expected of me. If I hadn’t…” He swallowed hard, and his next words were perilously close to begging. “Just trust me, Di. Please.” “No…” She backed still farther away and wrapped her arms around herself defensively. “You said it wouldn’t be until after you finished here…after N.E.W.T.’s. You said…how could you do this without even talking to me about it? How could you?” “I didn’t know.” He stepped toward her, feeling his stomach twist in knots as she kept moving backwards until she was pressed up against the greenhouse wall. He stopped short of touching her, unwilling to force himself on her when she so clearly didn’t want to be near him. “I didn’t know until I got home, and then there was no time to even owl you - not that it would have changed anything if I had. It wasn’t just me, either. There are others here who took the Mark as well. All the ones whose fathers were working for Voldemort.” “And none of them had a choice? Don’t you see how wrong that is?” “What should I have done?” he demanded angrily. “My family…” “Your family what? What were you going to say?” “My father’s decision to serve Voldemort affected us all,” Severus said. “If I had refused Voldemort, it would have been…difficult for my parents.” “You mean dangerous, don’t you?” she whispered hoarsely. “You’re bound to a man who would harm your family if you refused to serve him.” “I also happen to believe in what he stands for.” “No you don’t. All you believe is what you’ve been told. And you’re too smart for that, Severus. You’re too smart to spend your whole life parroting Mum and Dad, particularly when Mum and Dad have bought into the ravings of a lunatic.” “Shut up!” he shouted, suddenly furious with her. She flinched at the sound of his voice and he ignored the pang of guilt he felt at the sight. He’d never shouted at her before. He rarely shouted at anyone, in fact, preferring to make his point in more subtle ways. But he was furious with her now and still off-balance from his initiation. It was bad enough that he had to deal with his own ambivalence, but surely she should see that when one had no choice about something, the sensible thing was to make the best of it. “It’s done, all right,” he said, in a slightly calmer voice. “It’s done and it can’t be undone. You’re just going to have to find a way to deal with it.” “Oh, no,” she said, shaking her head and once again wrapping her arms around herself in that odd posture of self-protection. “Oh, no I don’t.” “What are you saying?” “You know perfectly well what I’m saying,” she said, swallowing hard. “I never want to speak to you again, Severus. Never. Not so much as a hello in the corridors, do you understand? You’ve made your choice.” “Diana…” “Just let me go.” Her voice was thick and he could see the tears starting, magnified slightly and wavering beneath the lenses of her glasses. He stepped backward automatically to let her pass, emotionally reeling and unable to think of the right thing to say. The scene had a feeling of unreality about it, as if it had been professionally staged and he had simply learned all the wrong lines. Surely the right lines existed somewhere; he would just have to figure out what they were. He made no move to stop her as she fled the greenhouse (not the one where they had first made love, thank fortune…that would have been one melodramatic touch too many) thinking, dazedly, that all they needed was a little time to calm down before things could be set to rights. Except that he was wrong. Diana kept her distance for the rest of that term, refusing to even come near him, and he was possessed of far too much pride to plead for her forgiveness. ‘Snapes Never Beg’ was another of the helpful axioms upon which he had been raised, and even though he grew concerned for her as he saw her looking rather haggard and ill that term, he never spoke another word to her, nor she to him, until she whispered his name at the very moment of her death. § §§§ He had tried not to think of her too much over the years, but when he had, it had generally been when he was thoroughly pissed and in the mood to wallow in guilt and self-recrimination. For Diana, of course, had been Right. (Always, the "Right" was awarded a mental capital letter.) She had been Right about everything - about Voldemort being a lunatic, about the fact that he, Severus, was guilty of not thinking for himself, about the fact that he was wrong to have ever let her believe that he would have the courage to fight the destiny his father had chosen for him. Diana had been Right about all of that, and Severus had been wrong. She had taken on heroic proportions, as people often do in death, and it had been years since Severus had been able to ascribe a single fault to her memory. Which is why, when he thought back to how pale and wretched she had looked those last few weeks at Hogwarts, he threw back his head and laughed. The echo of his howls rang from the dungeon walls until he simply gave out of air and had to stop to catch his breath. Because however Right Diana might have been, she had also been mind-bogglingly stupid. Yes, she had done it on purpose. He was as certain as if she were sitting across from him, confessing everything. She had been carrying his baby that day in the greenhouse, and she had conceived the child on purpose, hoping that it would give her a greater claim on him than his father had. When she had found out that it was too late, she had given birth in secret and cast that infernal spell, freezing the baby in time so that she could go out and fight Voldemort - and Severus Snape - with everything she had. And she had lost. Stupid, stupid, stupid, he thought. And since Diana hadn’t been a stupid girl, it meant that she had been desperate - desperate to keep him from aligning himself with Voldemort. He sighed. Suddenly, it didn’t seem at all funny anymore. He wondered if it would have made a difference if he had found out about the baby before he took the Mark. Somehow, he didn’t think so. It would have added to his burdens considerably, but at seventeen, he doubted he’d have appreciated how significant the responsibility for a child really was. He would have known that he should marry the mother and provide for them both - all the stock things that boys who got girls in trouble were supposed to do - but he doubted that an unborn child would have brought about the rejection of everything he’d ever been taught - would have been able to make him place his parents’ lives at risk. It would have just muddied the waters even further, and he’d have still wound up making all the wrong choices.
After his initial laughter at Diana’s expense, he found it impossible to
take pleasure in her wrong choices either, particularly since he was
left to deal with the results: A living, breathing person who was now his
responsibility, in theory if not in actual practice. No, there was no
pleasure in any of this - just Fate’s increasingly creative punishments for
his mistakes. |